Skylar Miller was only ten years old when everything began to fall apart. First, it was the quiet disappearances-one sibling at a time-until only three of her siblings remained in her life. Then came the accident, a day that left her with more than...
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| Noah Miller |
"You want to know what happened to me? You want to know so bad? Well, I had to watch my little sister, the only little sister I have, get destroyed for years on end, by not only her older siblings, but by those that we were supposed to trust. On top of that, I had to watch it happen to my baby brother as well. It was like a repeating story; one that isn't even mine"
Shouting ensued, and my evening was ruined once again. Taking a deep breath, I knew that this was just going to be a repeat of my childhood. The way my parents had argued, my brothers had argued, and now they were doing it again. I never knew why, but what I did know, was that every time they yelled it brought up trauma that they never spoke about.
People never knew, but it wasn't only Skylar that Summer hated. She hated those that protected her target, and as much as Skylar may think, we all hated her except for Luke and myself, and maybe Shane, there was more of us that would rather turn against Summer, but there was only so much we could put on the line so that we weren't ruining the good days.
The birthdays, the Christmas' spent arguing, I wouldn't even be able to count on my two hands. That was how bad it was. That was my life story in a nut shell. Yet, here we are, over and over again, willing myself not to lock myself in my bedroom and stuff my head under a pillow. I couldn't do that anymore, as I had two younger siblings to protect.
The arguing between Grayson, Riley, Jay and Shane had been going on all night, and I was over it. No matter how loud I turned the TV up or tried to remove myself from the situation, the anxiety continued to grow. My father's voice was there, at the forefront of my mind, telling me that I was stupid little boy, and that I would never be anything great.
That I was washed up. I am washed up. I was useless. I am useless. It was the same old, same old torture tactic that my father used, and it got to me. It always got to me, and it didn't help when you had the eldest brother constantly reminding you, whether he knew it or not, whenever I did something wrong.
I knew when we were younger, I strung him out the most. I wore him down. While Luke and Sky were quiet, I was highly strung. For some odd reason, I always had a lot of energy, and my father hated it. He always liked the quiet ones, but not the quiet ones when they were young. He never liked the little kid phase, and our mother hated us when we cried. Riley could also join that club, as I always tired him out.
But, now as I sat here, straining my muscles to stop myself from carrying on and hiding away from the shouts, which for once, were directed at my older sister, whom was crying about it all and making it seem louder than it was, and being mature enough to stay put. I wasn't going to let them ruin the evening that I had planned, even though I knew it was already ruined.
Summer had done that, once again. She had forced Skylar back into her room, which I knew was harder and harder for her to leave every day, but I was prouder every time that she did choose to leave it. Every time that she worked up the courage to do such a thing. Sky would be doing better every day, and the Summer would just have to crush her down for some unknown reason. Luke wasn't far behind them, as I knew he would hate to see Riley's face, as he too, had locked himself away for the night. The memories would be too much, and he had said so when we had gone out on a surf a few weeks ago, just us.
