Imperfection & Complexity

It’s a scary kind of happiness. One day I’m scared of this reality. The next day I want it so bad I can taste the pain. Every pair of eyes searches for my body through the groups. Though I’m a secret lost in this ocean of fakes and liars. In the state of confusion you’ll find my brother, Frank, driving his car to a park so he can smoke. It is raining lightly when the ambulance is driving away with my mom. Life was to mush for her. Life caught up with her. And all she could do was put a bullet through her head. Well she could never promise being perfection or making others happy. She would say, “Just because your alive doesn’t mean you’re my problem. You should be happy that I haven’t killed you or made you move out.” this was usually followed by a puff of smoke in my face.

A policeman, about 25, smiled weakly, “You’re the daughter, right?” he asked and I nodded, “What’s your name and were you here when she shot herself?”

“Aiden, and no no one was home” I had managed to choke out.

Once every one left I entered the small blue house. Silence creped around each corner. This was the quietest my home had ever been. Besides those nights when my dad had beaten me or my brother. Because those were times that needed silence. Any noise ,even the slightest would cause him to be tougher. I moved through the house picking up a few things and throwing them into an old wooden box. The stench of blood was moving through the house, which brought e to scrubbing the carpets in my mom’s room. My Fingers were red and dry, but I moved everything around so it looked normal. Then I got a card board box and stuffed it with all of my mom’s stuff, or anything to do with her. I even included all the pictures she was in.

This is how it was for Alex. Alex was only 4 when he died and we got rid of every memory possible. It’s as if he was never alive. Like a dream we woke up from. Now mommy was gone. And though this is a sad time I am almost happy. For she was no better than my dad. Both found pleasure in abusing us. They would grin with every punch. Sometimes we’d be locked outside. Frank would drive me around the neighborhood until I stopped crying or until I fell asleep. Then when he’d be hurt badly I’d be there. Even if it meant staying up all night until he was conscious and capable of standing.

The front door opened. I sat quietly and curled up in the corner. A few footsteps later and the door closed. Slow steady breaths. The light in the room flickered on. Frank stepped into the room. I sighed of relief. He had been smoking because the small lingered into the room.

“Don’t go to sleep tonight. Dad is more than likely to beat the hell out of us. He looked pissed when he left earlier..” He rambled on.
“Do you think mom would go to heaven.. I mean if there is one?”

He stared down at his shoes and shrugged. That meant there was something he wanted to say, but wouldn’t be good for the moment. Frank did his best to look casual and ready. Though when it was only us you could see the dear and a lost child. All he ever wanted was a dad who was proud of him. When our dad would beat us Frank would stand there and take. Thinking it would make him a man. But he never knew he would always be more of a man than our dad was.

“You know Aiden, maybe you’d be better off with out me around. I’ve been thinking. Dad and mom never went for you like they did to me. And maybe.. You’d be safer if I left. Your so quiet that dad would never know you were there.” he turned to leave the room.

I couldn’t believe what he was saying. He wanted to leave. If he did then I’d be so alone. Y whole family would dead. I cried and stood to follow him. He was the last thing I had. He was in his room pulling clothes from a drawer and stuffing them into a box. While he emptied the room I could only cry. I felt so weak as if I was nothing. He started his car and waved quickly before leaving. He could’ve been gone for 30 minutes and I was probably standing there waiting for him to come back. Just because I need my brother.