It must've started all those years ago, when our parents first began fighting. I got scared when it all started and ran to look for my brother. I found him in the upstairs bathroom. He was just sitting there on the floor, not moving. I asked him if he was okay even though I could tell he wasn't. He lifted his head a little and I knew he had been crying.
They hate me. I know they do. I heard them. And you know what? I hate them back.
His words still stick with me to this day. I had no real idea that he felt like that. I was even more surprised at our parents. I mean, how could they say something like that about their own child? As the years went by, things only got worse. Our family seemed to grow further and further apart. Dad yelled more and lost his temper easier. Mom became less talkative. And D… he just closed himself off to other people.
He would spend hours upon hours locked in his room. Whenever I would walk by I could hear the blaring, yelling music he played through the door. Sometimes I could even hear him screaming along with it. It scared me. It honestly did. But the night that he ran…
It scared me even more.
The day started out like normal; we had the usual silent breakfast and then it was off to school. The bus ride back home was pretty normal too. I sat near the front while D sat as far away from me as he possibly could. I turned once to look at him and he was slumped down in his seat with the hood of his black sweatshirt up and headphones on.
It was when we got home that things got bad.
As soon as we stepped into the house, our parents were there wanting to see both of our grades. That when I remembered our report cards came home that day. I showed them mine; two B's, everything else A's, all fours in citizenship. They told me simply to try a little harder to grading period. D threw his on the table and was about to go upstairs up but our father demanding that he stay put. My brother stood with his foot on the first step.
His grades weren't much worse than mine; Two B's, everything A's, mostly fours in citizenship. But our father yelled that he was lazy. Our mother just stood there staring at the piece of paper. D merely turned and went upstairs to lock himself in his world.
A few minutes later the music and the screaming started.
Later that night, our mother quietly asked me to check on my brother. I knocked on his door then opened it hesitantly. I was surprised it wasn't locked. The lights were off but I could see D's huddled form in the corner. I walked over to him slowly and asked him if he was okay. I heard a laugh.
Am I okay? Would you be okay knowing that no matter what you do, it wouldn't mean anything because your so-called parents refuse to acknowledge you? Would you be okay if your perfect brother pitied you so much that he would come into your room and try to talk about if you're okay even though it's obvious you're not? Answer that, my brother. Try and answer that.
I stood there as his words and the ones he said so long ago flooded over me. All of a sudden I wanted to scream. He didn't understand. I never wanted him to get in trouble. I wanted our parents to get at me. I purposely didn't try that much to get good grades. I wanted to be punished. For once in my life I didn't want to be perfect.
Then… I snapped.
"Look! I've never pitied you and I never will! I'm… I'm just worried about you damn it! Whether we like it or not, we're brothers and nothing we ever do will change that! So for once in your life come out of your little world and talk to me! The only person pitying you is yourself!" I had never yelled at anyone like that. I shouldn't have yelled at him like that. Maybe if I hadn't yelled at him, he wouldn't have run.
Get out. Just get. Out. I hate you… I hate you! Leave me alone!
Those would be the final words he ever said in our house for a long, long time. For that night, my brother ran away. Only I didn't know it then.
The next morning I went back to D's room to apologize. I felt horrible about yelling at him. He got it enough from our father. But when I tried to knock on the door I found that it was already partially open. I went inside but my brother was nowhere to be seen. After looking around his room I discovered that his backpack, drawing supplies, and headphones had disappeared also. Then I found the note. It was lying on his bed. It was hastily written and small blotches dotted the paper. (I wasn't really sure if I wanted to know what they were.) This is what it said:
I'm doing you a favor by leaving! I know you wanted me too! Don't try to find me; I'm not coming back! I'm no longer your son! I'm sick of all the hate being shot towards me! I hate your pity! I HATE YOU!
Without any thought I ran to our parents' room. I pounded on the door and called out, "He's missing! He's gone!" Our mother opened the door with a look of horror spread across her face. I tried to explain what I had found but our father silenced me. He said he didn't care that D had gone. He said that he was finally doing something right for once. I couldn't believe what he was saying.
But our mother was different.
She begged me to go and try to find him. She said she would call the police. She ignored all arguments from our father. I was thankful for her that day. Without her, nothing would have happened. I ran to my room and got dressed, grabbed my pack, and left. I would find him.
My brother.
Black Triforce: Okay, the next chapter will be from D again because I alternate between the two. Please review; it would be greatly appreciated.