𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍|𝟏𝟖+

33|| brother.

A C E

*flashback.*

"This is fucking ridiculous, Mother. I want to find him, I want to go see him. Why won't you just let me? Fuck sake, he's my brother."

I watch as my mother takes off her apron and hangs it up as if it's not covered in flour.

"Excuse your tone and words with me. I'm your mother, not some damn stranger on the street." she crosses her arms over her chest.

I shake my head. "I'm sorry. But, why? Why won't you let me see him. It's been thirteen years," my voice cracks at the last part.

Mother shoulders slump a bit, as her hands fall to her side then reaches me for a hug.

"Okay." she let's out a breath.

I tilt my head up to hers and my eyes go wide. "Okay?" I raise a brow. "Okay, you can see him. I know where him and your father is. One of your fathers men and I have been in touch for five months, and he's been watching James for the last thirteen years." she tells me.

I take a seat onto one of the stools. "How has he been? Is he alright?" I frantically ask.

I haven't seen James since the day I left, since the day me and mother left. My little brother, the boy who was always at my side.

Who would always try to defend me whenever we got into any fights at school or in the playground. At the end, I would always been the one saving him from the trouble he caused after trying to defend me.

Gosh, I missed that kid.

He was a hard headed firecracker. Someone who was always smiling, always laughing and joking. Someone who loved, ice cream.

I wonder if he still does those things.

Smiles.

Laughs, cracking jokes.

I wondered if ice cream was still his favorite thing ever.

It wasn't one night I haven't gone to sleep without praying, praying he would be okay. Praying he was safe, praying he wouldn't hate me or hate mother.

It wasn't many nights where I haven't cried.

Cried so hard, that I couldn't breathe.

I missed him.

I missed my brother.

I wondered what he was into now. If he took up boxing like he said he would, or even trying whiskey. Anytime father would enter the room he would always have a glass of whiskey with two ice cubes in it. James always asked father if he could have a sip, and father would laugh and then scolded him after for asking.

I wondered if he finished school, like I always told him to do. I wondered if he made any friends, for James that was a tricky one.

He only had one friend.

Me.

His only, forever friend he likes to call it.