𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞 | machine gun kelly

18

"YES MOM," I SPOKE INTO THE PHONE, a fond smile on my lips, "Of course I will."

She was telling me to enjoy myself despite everything else. I hadn't told her what everything else that was happening to me was, I didn't want her to know. I refuse to let all that matter enough for her to know. Telling her would mean accepting it somehow, telling her would show weakness- telling anyone would show weakness, and I wasn't planning on it anytime soon.

"Yes, give the phone to him," I replied when she told me my little brother wanted to talk to me.

I couldn't help but beam as I heard his breath through my cell phone, a slight pause as he began to form words. They didn't come to the boy as easy as most people, and I adored him for it. I adored him for everything he was and will be.

"Davina!" He let out, voice full and excited.

"Hello my love, how have you been?"

"I'm good," He answered. "I finished watching dragon ball z! It was so cool. I miss you."

"I miss you more," I said, clutching my cell tight and reining in the tears that threatened to fall. I wanted to go home more than anything else, but I had to do this too. I had to get out of this the right way if I want to secure my brother's future. Running away wasn't an option.

"Tell me," I sniffed and smiled, "Did Frieza win?"

Mickey chuckled, his laugh so contagious, so pure. "What do you mean?" He laughed, "Goku took him down seasons ago! Villains don't stand a chance against Goku and the Z."

"Heroes are so overrated," I spoke teasingly. I didn't actually think like that, but it was always the dynamic between me and my brother when we watched cartoons together. He would pick the good side and I would choose the latter. To me, it was about showing him that good always won. And I would much rather be on the losing side just to teach him that.

"I don't care," He protested, "I want to be just like Goku."

"You will," I smiled, "You will be better."

"When are you coming back?" He asked after a pause, voice quieter.

"Just a little while longer," I answered falsely. There was still half a month and an entire still left. I didn't know how to give my brother a number. So he could count and waste his present worrying about my return? It was what I had done with my dad. He gave me numbers each day when I was twelve, and I spent three years counting them off until I gave up. He never came back.

"Okay." Mickey's voice was sure. He trusted me. He knew I'll come back to him, it was just a matter of time.

"I will call again tonight okay, love?" I smiled. "No one is going to beat me to wishing my brother a happy birthday first."

He chuckled. "Okay. I will wait for you!"

"You're going to be eight Mickey," I bit my lip, stopping my voice from cracking. "You're going to be such a big boy."

"Mhm," He hummed with pride, "Then I will take care of mom and you."

I let out a giggle. "Not that much of big boy, my love. But I will let you try."

He giggled in turn.

He told me about school next. How his days were going. He didn't say anything about being bullied, and I didn't have the heart to ask. Had it stopped? If it hadn't, there was nothing I could do to stop it at present. I was states away.

After a few more minutes of conversing about everything that came to my brother's almost eight year old mind, we bid eachother goodbye.

I felt as though I could stay on that call forever. Because it was everything I've ever truly called mine- my brother, his antics, my mother and her wisdom. It was all home to me. I never realized how fragile this life really is. You never need anything more than what you already have sometimes, and that is so hard to understand.