Chapter the Second

Once upon a time, father loved Danny and God watched over us, but once upon a time father also stopped taking his medication. He said it numbed his personality and ruined who he was. I knew that his personality was doomed either way. The love had faded from his eyes and without it he had no defense against the pain. The pain soon turned to hatred and the hatred turned to cigarette burns on Danny's face. Our father was supposed to love us and protect us from all that crap. Instead, he himself embodied agony and hatred. He embodied everything that was bad about the world and always would be. People didn't even see it; they didn't want to see it.

. That afternoon would be a terrible one when my father arrived home. I would have a few hours before that though so I would use them to clean up the house. I figured if I kissed his ass maybe he'd give me a break. I wasn't a big fan of ass kissing, but father was that's all that matters when you're a kid. Argue all you want. Criticize the system, but it won't change, and you'll only suffer more from being stubborn. That's one of the lessons I learned about fighting. Sometimes it's pointless.

One day I was going to fight my way through life and not even my father was going to stop me. That day wasn't then or the day after. It was a day so far away, that I sometimes became exhausted and restless waiting for it. Patience was one of my strongest qualities. All I could do was wait. I waited to be in the arms of my mother and for the day when my brother would fly free. I waited for our wings to grow, even when my father clipped them regularly. I based my patience off of one principle: Baby birds that don't wait to fly, fall out of their nests and lie in excruciation awaiting death.

I wanted terribly to plummet 100 feet from the top of a tree. Though, I guess it wasn't terribly enough. I stayed, but not for my life, for Danny. To this day I can't figure out how one bird can love another bird so much that they choose to stay trapped in their nest when freedom is a few waddles away. I bet if they jumped, they'd look up the whole time they were falling, wishing they were back at the top again. If you have anyone to love, they're worth living for, through anything and for any length of time. The existence of Danny reminded me that daily.

I passed through the halls between the last hours of the day. People passed by me on both sides, often accidentally hitting me with a body part or their backpack. They chattered fluently in every compass direction. My mind was carried up and down by a wave provoked by the entirety of their voices. I watched their faces pass and wondered if they knew how I felt. They must have seen the misery in my eyes. I saw nothing in theirs. I knew there was supposed to be something unique to each and every one of them, but I couldn't see much beyond the glazed surface of their iris. Colors empty of meaning. Souls empty of complexity. Their simplicity was ultimately their innate joy. They never had to think about anything beyond what happened to them every day. They couldn't see past the horizon and their minds didn't wander in search of more no matter how still they stood. They were prisoners of their own minds, much like Danny, but they didn't know it.

In 6th hour, the moving hands of the clock threatened my content. Most children waited impatiently for the day to end, but even though school was miserable, I wished it went all evening. I wished I went to boarding school. I wouldn't have been home sick at all. Being at home was what made me sick, not being away from it. Home is supposed to be a safe haven, a place you escape to, not a place you wish to escape from. Feeling unsafe no matter where you are drives a person insane, especially a child. That's what it did to me, along with several other factors. I didn't much enjoy clocks either because time by itself doesn't mean any thing; it's what happens during time. A lot can happen in a year that doesn't happen in 10. A person can be ready to die by the time they're 12 or willing to live by the time they're 91. The 12 year old knows they have several decades left and a 91 year old knows their time is soon. Humans waste so much of their lives with measurements of time that they don't understand it isn't important.

Time carried out its threat and the bell obnoxiously buzzed through the lonely hallways. The teacher continued to speak as students hurried out. No one listened to her but me. I watched her as she spoke, frustrated with their rudeness and masked with false pride. I felt my own pride disappear with hers. I always felt deeply for others, but no one felt for me. The weight of my mind was my burden to bear and mine alone. Not even God helped me. Maybe he believed that I was strong enough to carry it. Or maybe he wasn't watching at all. Maybe I was alone.

Realizing that the classroom was scarce of children, I awkwardly hustled out. I didn't want her to speak to me, because I didn't ever know what to say back. People thought I was shy because of that, but if I could have found any response at all, I would have been the loudest bugger around. Much like I was with Danny. Oh the memories of our times together. They held my humor in tact through all the seriousness and hopelessness. There was always something we could joke about. There was always a moment in my childhood that I didn't mind looking back on.

"(name of girl)?" Danny's eyes peered intently through the openings of the closet. "where's ou at?"

He walked backward, tripped over a shoe near the steps and stumbled into a bucket of our finger paint. He whined helplessly and stood up. His butt was dripping brown.

A giggle escaped from my throat. His head swung around violently. The intensity of the hunt drew him to the drama.

"I hear ou." He whispered secretively. His mouth produced a goofy little grin.

He was never going to find me up in the rafters. He never looked anywhere but the closet. I felt so very clever right then. I sort of wished he'd find me though, because the unsettled dust was giving me allergies. That's the kind of gift you get from my gene pool.

As I moved my leg out of an uncomfortable position, he paused in his tracks and I swore he was going to look up. I waited in suspense for him to discover me so I could jump down. Instead he spun around and ran spastically to the closet. I sighed deeply. The closet fetish had lost its entertaining quality quite a few years ago.