No More

14• Insults

A/N: I removed one of the brothers from the family for simplicities sake and so that it doesn't get confusing. It won't make too much changes in the story since he appeared only once.

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The garage door sounds as I'm making my brother his sandwich. It creaks and turns until I race off with a nimble sprint. It's between my parents and I. Either I get to my room before they enter the house or they catch me in my presence. I am accelerating at a speed where I cannot comprehend my surroundings. My only motive is to make it to my room before anyone else does. I do not even notice that my brother has lied to me about their timing; I'll deal with him later. I reach my sanctuary, but Jonah is standing in front of the door.

"Where's my sandwich?" He had the audacity to ask me. If I had his sandwich, I would not be holding it rather it would be in his mouth.

"Get out of the way!" I push him out of my way into the wall. I hear a weep coming from exterior of the thick layer. Jonah's head probably hit the surface of the wall more vigorously than his stubbornness could handle. I recognize that I will get chastised in a greater amount than before. When I bare the door, it crepitates a loud screech which doesn't help my situation. I grab my brother by the mouth and pull him inside my room.

"If you make one sound, you won't be able to call out your own name." I gleam at him vehemently. He crouches down as if he is a leech waiting to be stepped on. We will remain in the same position until someone calls on us to leave to my grandparents house.

Everyone is starring at me when I walk into the back seat of the jeep. "Is there anything wrong?" I cross my arms across my chest and wait for my answer.

"What are you wearing? It looks you have just came out of the graveyard yourself," my dad responses. I look at my tights jeans and my sheer top.

"Well Father, I am wearing many fiber threads woven together to produce these beautifully done clothes," I say as I'm waving my blouse back and forth as if it were a dress for a four year old. If I were to wear sweats, my parents would complain. Nothing seems to satisfy them.

"Go change into something else. Your going to your grandparent's, not a wedding," my mom repeats this after my dad sounding like robots from the 31st century.

"I shall not. I am perfectly comfortable in my outfit now." My father glares at me which feels as if it were an eternity then backs the car into reverse.

My face is filled with unwanted kisses and cheap lipstick stains. Undesired hugs come across my body. Comments saying that I've grown so much are being thrown at me. The truth is, I haven't changed at all because it hasn't even been a month. This is the reason I didn't want to arrive at this specific location.

My grandparents house is a home that my great grandparents also lived in. The stairs are made of clay and the grass has withered away. Dust is layered on top of the television, indicating that it hasn't been used in a while. The kitchen has a worn-out sink, stove, and a few shelves to place the pots.

I try to leave the kitchen, but someone trips me. My distributive cousin's friend has blinded my vision and my ears when he says, "Stupid." It seems that it is the only word in the dictionary he can pronounce. I still do not know the reason my cousin keeps him around; he seems unnecessary. He has been harassing me with his imbecile statements for years. I can't remember the last time he said something nice.

I am trying to finish some school work, but the ruckus of my younger cousins keeps interrupting in me. My papers slam onto the counter as I get up to get something sweet to eat.

"Fatty." Only one person could have said something so inane. Lewis is the very unattractive cow on a bottle of glue; he is the adherence to irritation. His green eyes have gone to a waste. He will not leave a person alone until he knows she is aggravated. I have not seen someone my age with a brain the size of a pea for decades. Overtime he has broken a large part of my heart with his actions. He has made me aggressive which I hide behind my patience. Revenge will come on it's own.

A piece of a chocolate bar flies from the opposite side of the room. It hits my face, leaving a brown spot on my cheek. It's the perfect tone for a blush; someone could call it feces for the face! It magically transforms a person from a leviathan to a normal human. I take the napkin from the container and wipe the waste off my face. My candy bar is left untouched on the kitchen sink. There goes my appetite and a delightful sweet. Lewis doesn't ruin one thing, but two.

I return back to my study area still wiping my face vigorously. There I find a little boy scribbling on my assignment. I could have pulled a tantrum, but instead I start to cry. A girl doesn't cry because of one thing, but an accumulation of misfortunes. Hours of working on something only to be abolished by an inept child. I take the papers out of his hands and tell him to go to his mother.

"Come on we are going home!" My dad calls out. He knew taking me here would end up in default. My tears establish the decision to leave. My grandma comes near me to give me a hug. She tries to comfort me, but I abhor affection. My uncle is next to tell us all goodbye. He says he will see us next time we get a chance to come. Do we really have to go back?