I See You

Chapter 7: It was supposed to be a normal day

Disclaimer: This chapter touches on sensitive subjects, in particular, self h**m. If you are in a sensitive place, please do not continue reading. 

Aaron

I stood there like the stupid shit I was while she did everything. I was put in the same situation all over again and still nothing changed. I didn't change. I couldn't save her then, I can't save him fucking now. I can't do anything. I can't do anything right. For goodness' sake I couldn't even dial three numbers on the damn phone.

Even while my brother was on the floor, collapsed, not breathing, maybe dead, I just stood there like an idiot, I couldn't move. I don't understand. I told myself that it wouldn't happen again. I was sure that it wouldn't happen again. I sacrificed myself everyday and worked myself to the bone to make sure that it wouldn't happen again. I sweat blood, I cut myself, I worked. I wanted to give up, I wanted to die, but I cut myself and continued working. Where the hell did it all go wrong?

The sirens ring in my ear. The ugly smell of the hospital hits as I step in. That stupid fucking mechanical smell. The sound of the wheels rushing. The nurses yelling medical terms at me that I don't understand. The machines beeping and the doors locking me out of the room as they start the surgery. I'm shaking again. Buzzing in my ears. The same rusty, funky, hospital. Full of detergent. The doctors in the operation room. The world is spinning. Again, again. This cannot be happening.

I thought I was doing everything right. I made sure that everything was in place, so that he wouldn't have to go through it. I made sure I was the one suffering in his place so that he didn't have to face the reality of the world. I was so sure that he wouldn't be suffering the pain I was. I was so sure that he'd keep on living. I tried everything to make sure he had everything he needed to keep on living. So why was this happening all over again? What did I do wrong? Why did I not take care of him enough?

. . .

Tuesday, October 20, 2018

It was a normal day. It was supposed to be a normal day. The moment I opened the door to the house I knew something was wrong.

"Stay outside," I pushed James behind me, ignoring his whiny protests. ("I don't want to stay outside, it's so hot out here") I didn't know how I knew, I just did. It could have been that something smelt different, that the house smelt too clean. Or that there were less empty cups and plates on the floor. I didn't know how I knew. I just knew that something was very wrong.

Mum had never been the same since Dad left. The moment he left, that's when the world started to crumble. Everything we knew changed. Mum never smiled anymore, and she never hugged us or showed us any affection. We didn't even know if she loved us anymore. She treated us like we were invisible, like we weren't even there. James cried every night, asking me why Mum didn't love us anymore. Asking me why Dad left all of us behind. All I could do was hug him and lie to him that she did, she just didn't say it out loud, and that Dad would come back one day, until he went to sleep.

Our house became messier by the day, when I reached home the stench made me wonder why I bothered trying to clean up after all of us in Mum's place. The alcohol, no matter how many cans I threw away, the next day, there seemed to be more than the day before. The same was said for cigarette buds, littered all over the floor. James thinks that I took over Mum's position only after she left. Truth is, I took over her position since Dad left.

I could no longer have the life I wanted to have. I couldn't invite friends over, I couldn't even study in that place. But even when I stopped calling it my home, I still had to go back to that pigsty, because my brother needed me there. Who else would feed him? Who else would wash his clothes and pack his bag and make sure he brushed his teeth or bathed? The moment my grades started dropping because of everything I had to do, I dropped out. Dashing all of my hopes and dreams, the ones of becoming an art therapist or a teacher.