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I always liked hanging out with Amane. I always liked spending time with him. I knew there was a distinct difference between him and Tsukasa, and I always believed that Tsukasa was simply the bad apple between the two, while Amane was more of the saint. That’s what I believed in, and so did everyone else. Everyone else had more differing opinions of the twins than mine of course, others may think that Amane was the easier victim to pick on while Tsukasa was off limits, or something akin to that. Though there was one thing that wouldn’t change. Tsukasa would always be worse in some way than Amane. Whether it’d be that he’s just violent, he’s sadistic, whatever positive adjective may be used on him, there would always be the same amount of negative adjectives, or more. As for Amane, the only negative adjectives would be the more emotional ones rather than physical. Emotional, sensitive, crybaby, easy to pick on, adjectives like that are much more used on Amane. He’s the more docile and merciful twin unlike the opposite twin. At least that’s what everyone knows. I believe that too. I wished I could’ve continued to believe that.
I befriended the two when I didn’t know any better. I thought that they would’ve been fun company to hang around with. Despite the bullying I had to save Amane from whenever I was present, or the goresome scenes of Tsukasa killing off an animal, his weird platonical obsession with his brother, or how I can’t hang out with the two before eventually becoming uncomfortable in the process, or left out. I didn’t mind. I didn’t mind how I often did feel left out, even with just one of them with me. I didn’t mind, because I liked their presence. I didn’t mind the teasing from Tsukasa, always pointing out something about me that would eventually bring me to tears if made fun of enough. Not in front of them, no of course not, it would always be in the safety in my room. I didn’t mind how Amane would never tell me anything about himself, but would always pester me, wondering what my favorite color is, my favorite food, what subject I have. He wouldn’t do this constantly, but it would irritate me that he wouldn’t tell me a single thing about himself. It’s unfair, but I stayed quiet. I didn’t want to cause an argument. And anyways, their parents were quite nice, although I don’t see them often. Their house was always eerily quiet. It was odd, especially when I recognized a long time ago that they were more of a healthier family than mine. Aren’t happy homes supposed to feel warm and not so cold? It always reminded me of my own house. Something I never liked.
I suppose all of those were red flags I shouldn’t have ignored, but I did.
I walked the hallways of my near empty home. I glanced at my sister lounging on the couch near my brother, conversing with him with a pleasant smile before I went upstairs. She looked at me, but did not say anything. Why would she? It was always like this anyways. We wouldn’t talk, while she would love her younger brother. It hurt before, knowing she would never listen to my side of the story but instead always go to his care, even when it was his fault. Even when he purposely provoked me by touching me when I specifically stated not to. My mother says to let him have an exception to this rule of mine that constantly gets broken regardless when it’s my family, but I always declined and that would lead to another argument. I find it funny when the only point they constantly use is that he’s a child, he's younger, but he knows. I know he knows when he purposely reaches his hand out to touch any exposing skin, and stares at me before a grin approaches his face when he sees I’m not doing anything and continues. He continues even when I move away, he inches closer, when I ask him to stop, he doesn’t. That’s when I snap and I hit him. That’s when he’s suddenly the victim with crocodile tears and I’m the bad sibling. That’s when another argument arises, and if it’s my sister, I get hit as well. Harder, but not strong enough to bruise. It never bruised. I hated how it never bruised.
Today I was walking home with Tsukasa. Amane couldn’t come, since we couldn’t find him. I hope he’ll end up alright. I looked at Tsukasa for a split second before looking back ahead. I didn’t think he saw me, his eyes glued on the road in front of him, but he did, and he looked at me when I looked at him again. It was a bit awkward, silently staring at each other without knowing what the other wanted, then he suddenly interjected, evoking some noise into the silence, “I don’t wanna go home right now.” I was confused about this. Why wouldn’t he want to go home? It’s not like he gets in trouble for things he does. I don’t even think his parents say anything when he gets home late, or when he breaks into my room by going through my window and insisting to stay over, getting fussy if he doesn’t. I wanted to ask, but I didn’t, it wasn’t in my place to ask such an invasive question. “Alright, where do you want to go then?” I asked, I don’t want to be home either, and his company is sometimes better than none. I hope this is one of those times. He grabbed my hand and walked away silently, taking me with him. Taking me further away from our homes, and into only the company of each other. I didn’t mind, in fact I silently thanked him.
We’ve been here for quite some time now. He took me to a small unoccupied area of land that was covered in moss, blooming flowers and weeds, as well as other things such as unsightly insects. At least there was a streaming river nearby. I sat by the river, staring at my own reflection, bleakly, before dipping my fingers into the calm, ruining it. Tsukasa has been gone for a while now. I stared at the direction where he left, standing up and following the path I remember he took, before he disappeared in the depths of wherever this is. As I continued I became increasingly more paranoid of the silence. Not even birds chirp here. I remember this was a small land, I remember I went here once, once when I was little, and I got out immediately, so why does this feel so much more longer than before? Why does it feel suffocating to stay here? My walking turned into running. Maybe it was because I was a child, maybe it felt like it was a short distance away but it was long like this. I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled for Tsukasa, only getting silence in return, which only made me dread further. He wouldn’t leave me right? Sure he may have gotten distracted with something but he would come back right? I try to reassure myself with these thoughts, but I knew, I knew better than anyone that he would do that, and it wouldn’t be the first time. Panic continued to arise in my chest, my yelling turned into screaming, it felt as though something was chasing me, and it was only getting closer to me no matter how much I had tried to run. I was no olympic runner, so I knew I was done for when I felt a grab of my shirt, and I tripped on my own footing.
I shut my eyes as I landed on the dirt facefirst, ruining my clothing. I was panting. No one seemed to be holding onto my shirt anymore, but I smelled a strong metallic scent. I looked up and realized my face was inches away from some mutilated animal. I screamed and immediately scrambled away, hearing my heartbeat in my ears. I looked around swiftly and my nerves calmed down slightly when I realized who was the one responsible for my jumpscare. I stared at those amber eyes as I put a hand over my heart, trying to steady myself. “What’s up with you?” he asked curiously, his brows furrowed. “Nothing..Nothing..” I murmured as I flopped to the dirt on my backside “You didn’t hear me scream for you?” I asked, upset, but that frustration immediately simmered and instead arose confusion at his answer, “What screams?” What screams? I was practically shrieking his name like a banshee. “My screams idiot.” I retorted as I stared at his figure that was covered in heavy gore in some places, and others not so much. He looked down and toyed with the animal’s intestines, seemingly in thought. I got up and slapped his hand away, “Don’t do that. C’mon let’s get out of here. It’s dark already.” I grabbed his hand and tried to pull him up, but he wouldn’t budge, instead, he was resisting. “No!!” he shouted, trying to pull his hand away from mine, “H-hey what’s wrong with you?..” I stammered. He never acted like this when it came to going home. Usually he would be all happy and joyful after an “adventure” like this, excited to go home and tell Amane. What is wrong with him? His yells kept getting louder, more persistent, more frantic in not wanting to leave, the same word, over and over again. I knew he was childish, but god this was too much. He was starting to remind me of my brother. I felt blood seep out of the raw scratches he was creating on my hand, and I immediately let go of his hand with an annoyed look. Patience was never my virtue. “Fine!!” I shouted, “If you don’t want to, fine. I’m leaving.” I tsked, turning my back on him. I heard his breath hitch but I didn’t care. He can stay, I’m leaving this creepy hell of a forest. When I turned my back to him, he immediately crashed into my body, toppling me to the ground and him on top of me. I groaned and turned my head to him, “Tsukasa what the hell–”
“Don’t leave, I don’t want you to leave. Please don’t leave.” He whispered.
I was still irritated at his erratic behavior tonight. The cold air rippled any exposed skin, making me shiver. I was cold, tired, and I just wanted to be in the warmth of my room, under my bed sheets, and huddled in my blankets. But a question started to eat away my mind. Why doesn’t he want to go home? I sighed, and attempted to twist my body to face him, “Hey Tsu, don’t you want to tell Amane everything about what you did today? You know, a fun adventure, conversations with your friends and what you did in school?” I asked in a forced sweetened voice. I remember I saw some parents on television do this, I wonder if this’ll work on him. He always was fond of Amane and he would’ve always told me what he would want to discuss with him, even when I knew Amane wouldn’t listen. Or he would be forced to. He stared at me before shaking his head and only holding onto me tighter, his nails digging into my arms. “I don’t want to be there.” he mumbled, looking down at the ground. I glanced around the trees, I don’t think I’ll be able to get out. I don’t know how to comfort someone either..I looked at Tsukasa’s state nervously, I can’t just let him be in this state, but I don’t know what I can do. I cupped his face, and tried to smile at him, “Alright, I won’t leave, but we need to find somewhere to be so we can be warm. It’s cold here, we might freeze to death.” Freezing is an exaggeration, but I’m pretty cold in this weather, and he’s probably cold as well, even if it’s just a little bit. He stared at me, before silently intertwining our hands together. I took that as an ‘okay’ and got up, my hand still intertwined with his, and tugged his hand for him to get up as well.
We walked around the forest quietly. He was never this quiet. I wonder what happened at home for him to react violently. I squeezed his hand, and we continued walking to somewhere that might be warm in this odd place. He eventually stopped and abruptly sat down on the ground, taking me along with him with a small surprised shriek. I rubbed my lower back when I went down with him, turning to him with a glare, but he wasn’t paying attention. He was looking up at the sky. I faced away from him and laid down on the ground, staring up at the sky as well. There was no moon and I couldn’t see a single star, it was an empty, soulless night tonight.
I remember we had this system of hand squeezing. We only had a couple meanings and we only used them when we didn’t feel like saying anything. I felt his hand squeeze my scratched hand two times.
‘I’m sorry.’
I squeezed back two times,
‘It’s okay.’
then another three,
‘I forgive you.’
He was normal the next morning. I sort of wished he wasn’t, any remnant of his past mess was erased by dawn, and I wished it wasn’t. Something about last night made it feel like a dream but it was vivid, too vivid, to make it an actual dream. That and the scratches on my arms and hand. The more I think of last night, the more it dawns on me that that was his moment of vulnerability. If that was true, then he shows his vulnerability quite differently than Amane’s, he’s more..panicky and aggressive. I stared at the still raw scratches, dry blood peeling around it in blobs and drops. Maybe I should meet him later on. I feel bad. I would have handled that differently if I myself wasn’t panicked at the sudden change of behavior. I told myself before moving these thoughts to the back of my mind, opening the door and entering my house.
I threw my backpack carelessly in the corner of my room, before flopping on my bed. I had maybe a couple hours before I start my homework, and I’m not sure what to spend it on. I can’t spend time with my friends, and I’m not going to go anywhere out of the comfort of my room. I don’t really feel like eating…
An hour passed before I heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, and soon into my room, my cat following a little after. I watched as my cat jumped from my bed to his post, up at the very top where he could sit down on, and let my sister brush him, my brother coming to watch. I wouldn’t have minded, and I didn’t, not that much at least. I don’t like how the two annoyances are in my room, but as long as the two stay quiet and he doesn’t climb onto my bed and jump on it, I’ll be alright. Once my sister finished, she soon left my room, and I continued trying to occupy myself with a book I needed to finish before the due date. My brother decided to try and sneak up on me while I was on my bed and slap my arm. It was a gentle slap, barely a poke, and since he was grinning, I thought to give it to him back, as maybe a game. That slap even when it was light, I still shuddered at the contact of it, but it’s not like I could do anything about it, and I was in a lighthearted mood, so I should entertain his little game just once. I got out of my bed and hurried to get to him. Once he realized, he screamed and ran, and I barely touched his back, at least I think I barely touched his back. My palm was in contact with his back, but I didn’t push hard, at least I don’t think I did, I didn’t mean to, I swear I pushed him as lightly as I consciously could, but he fell down and hit his knee by the stair-rail. I froze, and my smile dropped. Did I accidentally push too hard? I thought I put barely any force into it. I didn’t hear my brother crying while he hit his leg, and I didn’t hear my sister running up the stairs. I didn’t hear any of that, I just stared at him. I only got back to my senses when I saw my sister’s face full of anger and slapped me, the force of it causing me to topple down and hit the side of my face at the wall near me. I winced and covered that side of my face with my hands as she yelled at me, “Why would you do that?! He could’ve gotten hurt!! Are you stupid?!” her words were shrill and deafening, and I was afraid she might wake up our father. If that happens, then I’m going to get yelled at a second time, I don’t want that. Fear swallowed me and my words, pushing down on my anger. She made one last insult to me before she turned to my brother, her voice completely changed to a sweetened tone that I remember I used on Tsukasa, that sweetened tone I hear on television. I watched as she scooped him up and heard the sound of a kiss on a cheek, rewinding the words she said on a constant loop, hearing the utter hypocrisy in it as I poked the tender skin of my face. I forced myself up and walked to the bathroom, closing the door and examining where she hit, watching as a pretty bruise bloomed on my face. I stared at my reflection emptily, tears welled up in my eyes as I opened the shelves, trying to find anything to cover the bruise up. I settled for a semi large band aid since that’s the only thing we had that could cover it. As I was walking away I wondered one thing, why did he immediately stop crying when he saw my sister? I closed my door and laid on my bed, getting myself situated under the blankets so that my soft sobs may be hidden and muffled. I don’t know why I’m so shocked at my sister hitting me, this isn’t the first time, and this won’t be the last, even when I hoped it would’ve been the last. I wished paralyzing fear wouldn’t be the first thing to come to me when I see her face contorted in full vexation directed at me. I wished my body wouldn’t immediately tense up and be prepared for the hit.
I sniffled and dragged myself to my feet, trying to wipe the residue of tears on my cheeks. I can’t just cry in someplace where it doesn’t even feel like home. At the very least, I could cry somewhere that isn’t here. Someplace that doesn’t give me a feeling of anxiety in my chest. I searched my closet and quickly picked out a few clothes that might look good with each other and put them on. I cautiously opened the door and peeked outside, noticing that no one was upstairs, quickly rushing to the bathroom to wash my face up, and headed downstairs. The two were downstairs but they didn’t seem to be paying attention to me. I quietly put my shoes on and left, shutting the door gently so as to not alert them, and walked away. Something I liked to think is if something bad happens at the start of every week, then this week will not be a good week. I do this so I wouldn't be disappointed. It’s a shame it’s my birthday week, but just because it’s going to be my birthday doesn’t mean I will make an exception.
I didn’t know where to go. After all, even though I don’t like my home, it’s the only place I can reside in safely. Well, safe from any outside dangers, like kidnappers and such. I didn’t know where to go, so I just let my legs walk wherever. Maybe it’ll take me to somewhere that has pretty scenery, or perhaps a bridge where I could jump off. I looked around, and soon realized I was walking to somewhere familiar. I know these trees, I know this street, I know this specific pathway. Soon enough, I turned a corner and realized that I was at the twins’ house. I stared at the house, my feet shuffling about, I didn’t know I would’ve landed here, although I was thinking of Tsukasa, I didn’t know I was actively searching for him. I shrugged, before stepping closer to the house. I don’t think their parents are here today, and if it’s a usual day then Amane wouldn’t be home until later on in the evening. I stepped towards a window to peer into the house to see if there’s anyone inside, or if there’s any hints that anyone is inside, like the lights being on, or the stove being on with food on top of it. I do hope Tsukasa’s in there, I thought as I pressed my face against the window and squinted. I first saw nothing, except for a few things that showed the house wasn’t completely vacant, two figures were shown and if I squint hard enough, I could see the two twins, but it seems as though they’re in an argument. I knew I should come back later, but I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I watched as the argument escalated into more yelling, I saw their mouths moving, I could see their expressions change. Amane’s frustrated and pitiful expression with Tsukasa’s with his lips pursued in a thin line. It didn’t seem as though he was paying attention, which was worse in this situation. It happened in a split second, though somehow it felt like time slowed down. I saw in wide eyed horror as his hand formed in a fist, and he hit him. I saw the aftermath of it, Amane’s horrified and conflicted expression, every tremble, and Tsukasa’s shocked and hurt expression, though unlike Amane’s it wasn’t quite obvious. He turned his head, and his eyes caught mine, right before I ducked. He saw me. I shut my eyes and tried to resist the urge to throw up. I wanted to get away from what I had just experienced, but unfortunately, I bumped right into the same thing, and I had to witness it happen to another person. A friend, and what was even more distressing was that it wasn’t some random person who hit him, but rather his twin. I heard footsteps and immediately turned my head to see who it was, and it was Tsukasa. He had a bruise forming on his cheek, it wasn’t dark, but it was still visible, and it made my heart ache. We stared at each other, before he eventually slumped down next to me. I stared at him with empathy, and I disliked myself for not being able to do more than just staying silent.
I tried ignoring the two at school. I tried. But Tsukasa would sometimes find me and cling to me, even running away was hopeless because he would eventually follow and still be near me. I’m glad my other friends are understanding about my situation, but I don’t think they’re as fond of him as they are of me. I sometimes see Amane looking more dejected than before, sitting around alone. I shouldn’t care. After all it’s not supposed to be my business, I wasn’t supposed to see that, and Tsukasa makes that quite obvious when he immediately switches the conversation if there’s silence that might provoke that discussion, or if I say anything about Amane, he’d glare at me. I wasn’t planning to say anything about that. It’s their business, and it isn’t mine. I don’t even know why I’m so worried about this. I like to convince myself it’s because of our friendship failing that I’m so worried about the situation that already occurred. I try to convince myself that sibling fights are normal, bruises are normal, punches full of unconceived rage is normal, because we’re siblings. It happens, there’s no such thing as accidents, it’s all purposeful, we are aware of who we are hitting and we could care less in that specific moment, but we still love each other, at least we should still love each other. That’s what my mother tells me, something I never believed when my own sister hit me, but I’m trying to now. I’m trying so desperately to believe that lie and love her, but I cannot. Sometimes I make excuses, piles of excuses of what could’ve caused my hate for my sister, other examples, other unpleasant memories that don’t involve physical brutality, just so I could feel justified in my constant loathing. I’m trying so hard to believe in those lies so I wouldn’t care about their situation and intervene as an outsider. I’m trying not to care.
I stretched my arms out, suppressing a yawn. I stared back at my scattered notes. I have a history test tomorrow so I have to study, but studying is quite boring when you know you can do other things that are more enjoyable. I heard my door open and curiously, when I turned around, my cat waltzed right in, meowing at me. I sighed internally as I stood up, a tired smile on my face as I petted the now purring feline, taking in the noises with fondness, listening in to the background noise of the cheerful conversations of my brother and my sister that made my heart clench. I don’t care about my siblings, they don’t care about me. I am well aware of that, but I always feel a twinge of jealousy when I stare at how happy they are with each other. How sisterly she can be, how she could’ve been to me, but she didn’t. I can’t remember a single time where I felt safe around her. I blinked out of my thoughts and realized I was now petting nothing. My cat left. I stared at where he was just at for a few moments before going back to work, trying to drown out the innocent laughter of my brother from my sister’s room and erase the ‘what if’ thoughts roaming in my mind.
What if I had just tried harder as a younger sibling? Would she love me then?
Tsukasa hasn’t come near me lately, which was nice. My friends seem more lighthearted and cheerful now that he’s gone, cracking up jokes like they were before and wrapping their arm around my neck, pulling me close into a hug, and overall being physically affectionate. I walked past the school entrance and caught the two twins walking together. It seemed as though Tsukasa regained his normal self, being affectionate with Amane and such. I stared at the two as they continued walking further and further away. Normally, I would walk with the two, but today I might take a detour. I turned around and walked the opposite way. As I walked, I wondered why I felt so odd when I saw Tsukasa being physically affectionate with his brother even after he hit him. I thought maybe that would’ve been a turning point for him and he’d start distancing himself away from him, but I was wrong. Why doesn’t he not like him? I don’t see it. I don’t understand why he’s acting normal, as if the bruise on his face is gone and buried under healed skin. It isn’t. It’s still there. It’s just hidden under bandages away from suspecting eyes. I don’t know if Amane is only acting like he’s accepting the affection because he still feels guilty. Good. At least he feels something against hitting his brother, at least I know he feels bad enough to let him do things that in normal circumstances, he wouldn’t allow, because of shame. I wonder why he acts like that. My sister doesn’t act like that.
My bag slumped against my shoulder. It was the end of school, the hallways were noisy, eager to get out of school and into their homes, or to some other place, alone or with friends. I heard a couple of conversations as I tried to pass through the halls unscathed, plans of going to someone else’s house, a party an older classmate is wanting to go, but is uninvited, some rants about other people, some of whom I know on a general level. It was nice to listen to the clatter every hallway has after school, sometimes it’s better than the quiet nature of these hallways long past school hours. I caught a glimpse of a specific someone I’ve been wanting to talk to in an empty classroom, and paused, contemplating on whether or not I wanted to talk to him now. I pulled myself together and entered the empty classroom, closing the door behind me to give us some privacy. He heard the door close and perked up, upon noticing me, he lightened up, “Oh, (y/n)!” he said. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know I know. I don’t want to ruin his mood. What if I ruin this friendship? I took a deep breath and managed a smile, “Hey..” I said. I paused, I didn't want to seem like I’m intruding in a personal affair. I opened my mouth to speak but closed it, unsure of whether or not I wanted to do it. I wanted to see them interact like my brother and sister..well as much as they could.. I didn’t want them to act like me and my sister, I don’t want them to hit each other in aggression and make that a common habit, that’ll only bring in pain and confusion to both of them. I wanted the two to be happy, and even if they get upset at me, at least they can be upset at me together, maybe in the future I’ll be the common topic they bond over, and complain about.
“Do you like him?” I asked hesitantly,
“Like who?”
“..Tsukasa.”
He stayed quiet.
“Of course I do, he’s my younger brother.”
If he loves him because he’s his younger brother, wouldn’t that imply that if I take that factor off, then he wouldn’t like him? Would he hate him? Sibling hate goes far more deeper than what it is given credit for. I stared at him while I considered this.
“If he wasn’t your brother, would you hate him?”
He froze.
“I..I don’t know.” he mumbled, shame creeping in at that answer.
…
Oh.
I looked down at the desk in front of me, the atmosphere was already tense when I started stammering, but this was worse. Is it too late for the two to reconcile? I glanced at Amane and looked back at the desk. Maybe I can ask Tsukasa how he feels about Amane, although the answer is obvious. Painfully obvious. “Where did you get that mark from?” I looked at him in slight confusion, a hand touching where he was looking, and an odd texture came into contact with my palm. Right, the band aid. I forgot it was there. “Oh uhm..I tripped on my footing on the stairs. It’s not serious or anything, it’s just a bruise. I didn’t want anyone to worry and ask questions, hence the band aid.” I trailed off. I disliked how lying was the first thing I did when it came to family matters, even to my friends. I disliked how I still cared about my family’s reputation to lie about matters like this, even when I know I’m also saving my ass from getting stuck with child protective services, it feels like I’m also saving theirs. He nodded and we stayed silent again. I wonder if my excuses were obvious, I hope not. Just because my first instinct is lying doesn’t mean I’m particularly good at it, unfortunately. I eventually walked away from my original spot, leaving him alone in an empty classroom.
I wandered around the streets for a bit, the sun was starting to set, and I still couldn’t find Tsukasa. I thought to maybe confront Tsukasa and ask him the same question I asked Amane, only then can I actually try to make an effort to change their relationship. If one of them still loves each other then that’ll make my job a bit easier. If it was only one, then I wouldn’t have to try and juggle two people and get them to get along to a healthy extent. I decided to check out the small area where we last hung out, maybe he’d be in there. I didn’t want to check the house yet, and preferably never, not when the scene is fresh in my mind.
The grass was stiff against my shoes, it felt odd. Last time it was soft. Last time was only a few days ago so I don’t understand what might have caused this sudden change. The weather was normal, it wasn’t like there was a sudden increase in temperature during this time period. I don’t know what else might cause this. I carried on, trying to walk quietly. If Tsukasa is here, I don’t think he wants to talk to me. I don’t think he wants to talk to anyone, but I’m going to take my chances if I do find him. When I decided on this, I felt a pit building up in my stomach. I never liked this feeling, but I carried on. I saw Tsukasa, and he wasn’t alone, however he wasn't goring the animal up like usual, no, he was just..staring at it. I came closer and noticed it wasn’t a singular animal, it was two brown kittens, playing around in the wild, occasionally meowing and making other noises. They weren’t aggressive, they were playful, they were having fun, they weren’t trying to scratch each other as a way to show their hatred, they weren’t even scratching each other, they were tussling. They weren’t harming each other, they weren’t making marks on each other, they were just…playing around. Like the siblings I see on television. Like my sister and my brother. I looked back at Tsukasa and suddenly, it felt as though I had intruded on another vulnerable moment. I hesitated for seconds. My feet almost turned away, before I eventually whispered, “Do you still love him?”
“Of course I do, he’s my brother!”
Same answers, but everything about it was the complete opposite. He didn’t even hesitate while Amane did. That’s what hurt me the most.
“But..he hurt you..” I mumbled as I stared at him confused, who couldn’t hold at least a little hatred for someone if they had hurt you?
“Amane didn’t mean it. I’m sure he still loves me.”
The words stuck in my head, looping over and over again. I remember my mother would say that to me after my sister hit me hard enough for me to cry. I still remember even after years. I still remember those were the exact same words I would tell myself. I’m starting to see the boy in front of me in a new perspective, in a more nostalgic light, and I absolutely hate it. Nostalgia is just trauma reopening again. “You know that’s not true.” I said as I watched the kittens play with a surprising amount of jealousy. Jealousy over kittens playing like the siblings me and her couldn’t be is pathetic. What we both are doing and currently thinking of while staring at them is pathetic. Tsukasa stood up, and turned his back on me, “You should stop meddling in me and Amane’s stuff. Just because your sister hates you and wants you dead doesn’t mean mine does.” I stiffened at that. He only said it in anger, he didn’t mean it right? I shouldn’t speak when someone is angry, if I do, the only person who’s gonna get hurt is sensitive little me, but I don’t learn lessons the first time, or even over multiple times. “Wait, how–why did you get to that conclusion? She doesn’t hate me!!” I shouted, anger clinging to desperation, desperation into believing that’s not the truth, that maybe somewhere in her big heart, somewhere in the pinches of her heart, she holds love for me. He’s lying. He only used that against me because he knows me and my sister don’t have a good relationship. He’s lying. “You should hear what she says to her friends about you.” That's all he said before he left. He’s lying. Part of me is still clinging to the fact that he’s lying. But if I know he’s lying why do I feel tears welling in my eyes and that desperation simmering into emptiness? He’s lying.
One more day until my birthday. Amane and Tsukasa stopped hanging around me. I blew my cover with Amane, I’m pretty sure he knows, either from our conversation or Tsukasa blurting it out after the conversation I had with him. Does that count as a conversation? I don’t know. Besides this hassle, this week has been going bad. I know it’s been going bad because I’ve been crying this entire week. Not solely because of them. I tried talking to my mother and asked if I could spend time with my friend’s mom and them, she knows them. I remember we spent a picnic with them, and she wanted to tag along unfortunately. But she said no. She wants herself to come along too, but I didn’t. Who would want someone who couldn’t even remember to buy a singular birthday gift they really wanted with them? No one, not me at least. She’s going to ruin the atmosphere just being there, I knew that, so I tried to reason with her, I even used the birthday card on her. I was desperate. I was desperate to get away from her but she didn’t budge. She asked repeatedly if there was something wrong with her, if I was embarrassed to be around her. I wanted to say no, I wanted to say that I just wanted to be alone, away from her, I just wanted to spend one birthday without them. Just two hours away from my family, and with the person who once provided me with comfort. I just wanted to hang out with them, and not her. But she said no, and we got into an argument because I insisted. I tried to use everything to get her to say yes. To allow me the permission of getting away from this stupid bullshit for a couple hours on my birthday. She still said no, and I cried in my room. I was always sensitive and I hated it.
I got in the car and had a small talk with my father as he drove. My brother insisted he wanted food, that he was hungry, and my father complied, he always complies when it’s my brother. “I’ll get something for you too.” He said, and I watched as he drove to a new road, an unfamiliar one. I always wondered how people manage to know where they’re going, even on an unfamiliar route, they always manage to reach their destination without guidance. I tried to ignore the time ticking as my dad left us in the car to get the food my brother wanted. I tried to ignore my heart skipping a beat when my father mentioned that the store where my gift was in was nearby, and he could just drive there, even with my complaints of my sister being late, he didn’t care. He usually would, since he doesn’t want to be yelled at by my sister, even when I felt anxious, imagining the yells in the car and the questions as to why we were late, I couldn’t help but feel joy when I touched the gift I wanted so badly and asked my mom for it this entire week, I couldn’t help but smile, holding onto the gift gently, afraid to somehow break it. Even when the car was speeding and my father was getting angrier by the second due to him being late to pick my older sister up. My smile stayed, even if it became smaller and smaller as I told him to slow down, my face contorting into fear, even my younger brother fussed and told him in broken words to slow down. My smile still stayed until we heard a crash and an impact.
We hit a car.
We stopped nearby in the closest parking lot to make sure everyone was okay. I heard mouths moving, and I saw the impact of the car we hit, it wasn’t a scratch, it was a big dent right in the front, damaging the left headlight. I watched as fear twisted my stomach, making me feel sick. I watched through the closed window as the two exchanged phone numbers and other certified government papers. I heard the faint sirens of police coming, already imagining my father being in jail, and my life being filled with the emotional burden of wondering what else could’ve been different. I imagined everyone’s devastated faces, because even if he wasn’t a good husband, or a good father, he was still a husband, and a father for most of our lives.
I perked up when my dad entered the car silently. I was afraid to have a conversation with him. He’s silent when he’s mad as well as any other emotions so I never know when it’s safe for me to speak, or if he’d blow up at me. “What happened?” I asked meekly. What I really wanted to say was why he wasn’t going to jail, why he isn’t panicking and freaking out. “The insurance companies will take care of it.” He said, as he started the car and we continued to go the road to pick my sister up. Midway though, he started talking about how we ask for too much, how we should be grateful for everything, and how we aren’t, then this happens.. I’m sure he said more, I know he said it all in a calm tone, but that objectively made it worse. I know he didn’t mean it like that, but I couldn’t focus on it, all I could focus on was the main point of all of this, of what started this. He’s telling me it’s my fault.
When my sister came in the car she asked why we were 30 minutes late. I had to explain it to her, and she saw my gift, she saw the gift I was reluctant to buy, but my dad insisted, he insisted on buying it even when I refused because I knew my sister would be late if he did. She saw the food we had gotten. The food we got because of my brother’s fussing. She knew it was my birthday tomorrow. “You couldn’t have waited after he picked me up to get all of this?” She said bitterly. She didn’t care about how we got in a car crash. She didn’t care about anyone’s safety. She didn’t ask if everyone was okay. She didn’t ask any of that, all she asked was why she was late. And when she thinks she got the answer she needed, she had to make it evident that she was disappointed. It wasn’t my fault, but with all the invisible fingers pointing at me it felt like it. I wish I could curl in on myself and chant the words ‘it’s not my fault’ over and over again until I can be convinced that it wasn’t my fault. I tried. I really did try. I tried to convince my dad to not get the food because there was food at home and he was merely spoiling my brother. I tried convincing my dad to not get my gift because we’d be late. I tried to not make it my fault. But I couldn’t get the ‘what if’ and ‘if only’ thoughts out of my head. If only I tried harder, if only I tried to be more insistent, if only I declined more, if only I wasn’t afraid to make my dad upset when I should've said no one more time. Tears were threatening to fall down my waterline, but I managed to hold myself together in front of them. On the way home the two argued, and he sped up again. Only one thing was on my mind.
We hit a car, and it was my fault.
When I closed the door to my room, I staggered to my bed and cried. I didn’t want to celebrate my birthday. I didn’t want to even acknowledge the horrid day tomorrow because I know it’s going to be horrible. It’s going to be a horrible birthday, because something will always go wrong when I’m around. And because this week was already shitty.
I walked the halls aimlessly, only left with myself on a dreadful day, and in a likewise state. I can still feel the tears threatening to fall but it doesn’t, and I can’t tell if I’m frustrated or relieved. Today is my birthday, and all I wish is for it to pass already, for me to shove my head into the damp spot of my pillow and cry. However I know as soon as I enter through the door, I’ll be met with the two words I’ve been hoping to avoid. So that’s why I asked beforehand if they could pick me up later than usual, excusing it as after school curriculars. I’m glad I did, but it’s lonely, and I’m getting bored wandering around the same places. After perhaps my fifth circle around the school, I heard two muffled voices coming from a classroom, curiously, I went to instigate. I didn’t think there were any people here at this time, I don’t think I heard anyone until now, which was a bit odd, but I brushed it off as I cracked open the door and peeked in. My smile vanished. The two were yelling, arguing again. I watched as Amane’s fists to his sides trembled, I watched as Tsukasa’s face was contorted into anger and annoyance, rather than joy like he usually shows. I watched as I froze. I can only hope that it doesn’t lead to one of them hitting the other like before.
Unfortunately, my wishes are never answered.
I always thought that instead of a flight or fight response, I had a freeze response. I froze whenever there was anything that was going to torment me in some way, whether that’d be physicality, yelling, conflicts, or actual dangerous situations, like a stranger placing a knife at my throat or something of a similar dilemma. I freeze even when I should move, that’s how it was for everything. I don’t know why, when I saw Tsukasa grabbing the nearest object, which was a thick hardcover book, I didn’t freeze, and instead ran forward. I don’t know what I was thinking, I don’t think I was even thinking. My relationship with the two ever since the incident has lessened, and I knew my presence wouldn’t make Tsukasa think otherwise. Amane’s terrified expression reminded me of my own when I get hit, maybe that’s the reason why. I didn’t want there to be another sibling dynamic like me and my sister, especially not to these two, who I still consider as friends, even when they don’t. I know I placed myself in this position, still, I regret my decision on not freezing up and not just letting Amane take the hit.
I didn’t have time to at least shield the side of my head with my arms, my head getting all of the impact, tears immediately flooded my sight, and I held a hand to the side of it where I got hit. It hurt. It hurt a lot. It felt like those migraines I hear my sister constantly complain about. Does her migraines feel like this? I wondered as I faltered on my steps, I saw black spots in my vision, which only increased after what felt like minutes. Eventually my legs gave up on me and I collapsed, falling to my knees and my forehead touching the ground. Everything was quiet. I can’t tell if it actually was silent or if everything was silent because I was in the midst of losing consciousness. Something dripped on my bottom lip and it tasted metallic. I remember my mom told me I was like paper, the thin one, not the strong one, because I would always cry when my sister would hit me. If a singular hand touches me roughly, then I immediately crumple in on myself, and I never get back up, I never stay the same. I used to deny this, but now I guess it is true. I never stay the same. I never could love my sister after every bruise she graciously gave to me. I tried, but I never did, and maybe that’s why I wanted so desperately to fix their relationship. I wanted them to be good brothers to each other, because if they could, after everything, then that meant I could’ve still held hope to love my sister. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for butting in. You’re right, I should’ve never tried to help for my own gain, I should’ve just forgotten about what I had seen that day in your house. I wanted to help, but all I had done was make it worse. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I’m sorry, so stop looking at me in horror, stop looking at me. Stop looking at me like I’m the victim. I’m not. I’m not the victim here, you two are. Stop looking at me with the same eyes mother looks at me when I get hit by my sister. Stop it, please.
I’m really sorry for putting you two in this position.
I woke up, and the lights immediately bothered me, being too light for me. So I closed my eyes. I don’t think I awoke for a little while after I closed my eyes, but later I opened them again, and I found the lights were dimmed, thank you to whoever did that. I didn’t feel like moving my head nor body around, everything still felt weak, and I still have that headache, although it’s less because it’s been sedated enough, but I can still feel my head throb occasionally. The room was empty and quiet, except for the occasional beeping of the monitor close to me, and the faint buzz of my ears. It felt odd to be here, but it felt nice. I closed my eyes again. I opened my eyes to find a weight on my stomach, curiously I looked down to see who it could be, ignoring how the buzz in my ears increased, and I recognized his choppy brown hair instantly. Is he sleeping? My hand reached out hesitantly to his hair and brushed past it through my fingers, watching as he jolted awake and stared at me with red rimmed eyes. It was Amane. I retracted my hand away and watched as he tried opening his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I watched as he looked defeated and looked down on the bed. Would this be a good time to ask him why he hit him? Of course not. If I did ask him, I would feel bad. But he knew what I wanted to know, and I heard him whisper, “He scared me… I don’t know what came over me when I first hit him. I guess I was finally done with him, and it was some type of payback that my fist decided to give without my mind’s consent. But it didn’t feel like it, it felt like I was punishing myself instead of him. I felt bad, I felt horrible, because he’s my younger brother. He’s my younger brother and..and I love him. After everything’s done and over with, I’d still love him. But at that moment, I felt horrified because I..I don’t know. I think I liked it..and that scared me more than ever. I used my fists and I liked it.” He rambled at first, but at the last sentence he slowed on every word, every punctuation, and I could tell he meant every word, every expression was shown across his face that resembled guilt, shame, and mortification. After a long while of silence from both of us, he looked at me, “I’m sorry.” and that’s all he said before he stood up, and was about to leave. “No..Why are you apologizing? I should be sorry..” I said, but as soon as I started speaking I noticed he covered his ears and continued walking. I wished I could’ve yelled. I wished I could’ve screamed that I was sorry, and I would’ve if I didn’t already know I would’ve gotten a migraine from even trying.
I was discharged after a couple days and got the rest of the week off of school due to doctor’s orders. I’m not sure if my parents are displeased about me not going to school, or if they brushed that fact off because I came home semi safe and soundly. I spent two days laying around my bed and sleeping for most of it. On the third night of me being discharged, I couldn’t sleep, it seemed as though all that sleep I had gotten got to me. I imagined fun shapes on my ceiling as I stared up at it, unknowing of what else to do that might be somewhat funner than this.
The fourth day, I rotted in my bed. I barely got up to eat. I looped what Amane and Tsukasa had said to me, before the incident. I looped every memory we had together, every memory, regardless whether or not I felt unwanted in it, I still cherished it. Because it’s gone now. I don’t think we will ever be the same, if we do stay friends. Everything will change, either drastically or in the littlest ways. That’s what I hate about friendships and relationships in general. It’s fragile, it’s feeble, every single relationship I had was like that, strained to some extent, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I didn’t know how to fix it because I didn’t know how to keep my mouth closed. I didn’t know how to comply and not try, even when I shouldn’t have. And for that I apologize to everyone, everyone I have befriended, and anyone who will be my friend in the future.
At night, I decided to leave the house. Everyone was asleep and it was in the early hours after midnight. It was a bad idea, I was aware. A child with a recent head injury, maybe going as far as to say brain trauma, a child who hadn’t had a lot to eat on this particular day, going out at night. I was yelling out to the world that I was an easy victim, but I didn’t care. Mama always complained about how I don’t go outside that much, but I’m going outside right now, so if I get caught, if I die, then she can’t blame me. Since I’m fulfilling her wish of her wanting me to get out of the house more, she won’t yell at me, right? I found myself walking back into that small area of unoccupied land again. I like to convince myself that I’m not doing this for any purpose other than because this area was nice to walk in. I’m not that good at convincing myself. I know where my steps are taking me, I know what I’m looking for, who I’m looking for, though I don’t know why. I shouldn’t interact with him, but I want to. I don’t know why I want to.
I found him by the riverbank. He wasn’t near anything, it doesn’t look like he got his hands dirty. He didn’t turn around, but I heard him sigh. I long stopped moving when I deemed myself to be close enough. I don’t try to walk closer, nor did I want to. “Mother said that I was violent, a reckless child. Spoiled. She never said it aloud, but I know she thought of it when we make eye contact.” a silent pause. “Do you think I’m violent?” I stayed quiet. Of course I think you’re violent. You’re a violent person at nature, and there’s nothing you could possibly do to change that, considering how far gone you are. Don’t put me in this position of wanting to comfort you or to put it to you bluntly, because I don’t know which one I would choose if I dare open my mouth. I don’t know which one I would regret.
I turned around and left, leaving him alone to answer that question.
“I don't know why I’m violent.”
I sat on the edge of my bed and craned my neck up to stare at the ceiling once more, but this time there were no shapes or colors to entertain me. The only thing that stared back at me was the dull neutral tone of the ceiling, a physical form of my disappointment looming down at me. There was nothing to keep me company right now, and I’m not sure if there ever will be. No shapes for me to trace messily with my finger in the air, no colors to stare at for long periods of time, I couldn’t hear even a snore. I was alone tonight. And maybe for the rest of my nights. I glanced at the drawer, the drawer I know that holds my pills, some expired because I didn’t have the time to clean it up. I stretched my hand out and opened it, digging into it to pick out three random bottles, one filled halfway, another filled all the way, and the third one was expired yet it held so many. I stared at the three in my hands and wondered if I really was going to do this.
But I don’t think I can stomach this garbage again. I don’t think I can stomach being alone, over and over again, crushing the same false bit of hope constantly. The hope that I no longer would be alone.
I think I might give up.
Happy late birthday to myself.