It's been a year and a few months since Ivy's death, Will's doing better, he's been coming out of his room more often and father hasn't been back in two weeks, I got to say I like it, its peaceful. I wrote a poem the other day.
I suppose I love my scars 2/08/1986
because they have been
with me longer than most
people have
I know it's stupid but it means a lot to me. I just really hope Will never finds this. It would break him if her reads the stuff I write in this. I started doing two jobs because my father is too selfish to pay for me and Will's needs here, I am a sixteen year old that works two jobs and has to take care of his fourteen year old brother.
I'm not complaining, I mean two weeks without any shouting, any loud noises or abuse. Will is in the living-room eating dinner while I sit on the couch next to him, working out how much money I need to work for to pay our bills. Even though Will is out of his room more, he still hasn't talked to me after Ivy's funeral, I miss his voice. I never really thought her death would effect Will even more than it effected me.
I want to help him but I'm struggling myself even after a whole year. "I'm sorry, Will" I would say every night before he goes to sleep, he would always just look at me with numb eyes. His eyes look so tired and cold.
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Pistanthrophopia
General FictionI look down at my brother, golden stake in hand and strike down. I scream, my voice ripping through my thoughts . Im sorry I think to myself, my brother, Ivy, Lucian and to the person I was before.... Tw: Self-harm Abuse Family issues LGBTQ+ Gore ...
