friENDS

03. Kevin

Trigger Warning: Overdose and attempt at suicide. 

I am calm when I open the door. "Mumma, I am home," I yell as I run up the stairs to my room. I reach to turn the knob of the wooden door before noticing that Kevin's door is left slightly ajar. Is he home? I wonder, getting excited at the thought of seeing my brother.

Kevin rarely comes home now that he has moved out of the house for college. However, he visits once or twice every few months on our mother's insistence.

My mother still worries, even though it has been over four years since my brother overdosed on antidepressants. I will never forget that night and how we thought we had lost him. My mother blames herself for it, but she is not the real culprit here.

My brother was once a happy boy with the most charming smile. But there was only so much our mother could have done to shield us from the harsh reality of our father. Family issues, coupled with the academic pressure, drove him to depression. 

"You had one job, Kevin, to study and score well. Is that how you will uphold my reputation? You make me feel ashamed." He tore the marksheet. "Stop this. He is just a small kid. He tried his best, and a B+ is good enough." Mom pleaded, her eyes glistening with tears.

That was how it was ever since my father started drinking to cope up with his failing business. He changed; my father had always been strict, but he got worse once he started coming home drunk every night. He simmered with anger and frustration all the time. My brother got the worst of it. Father always expected him to be on his best behaviour and score perfect marks. 

"So this is your fault. You have pampered them so much that they have deviated from their path." He shouted as he took a threatening step towards my mother."Stop!" he cried out in fear, his voice quivering. "Please stop. I promise I will do better next time. It is not anyone's fault; don't shout at mom," Kevin pleaded as he kneeled in front of my father. "Look at you defending your mother," he said as he grabbed my brother by his hair. "What else can I expect? Are you happy now, Lana? After turning my own children against me, stupid bitch." 

Kevin was 15 years old when he was put on antidepressants, and then a year later, we found him unresponsive in his room. 

"Kevin," I knocked on his door. "Kevin, open the door. Dinner is ready. Mom is calling for you." I knocked harder. After waiting for five minutes at his door, I returned to the kitchen. "Mom, can you hand me the keys to Kevin's room? He is not opening the door."

My mother pointed to the key holder beside the refrigerator. I ran up and inserted the key into his doorknob. "Mom!" I shouted as Kevin lay on the floor, an empty bottle of his medication beside him. 

The blaring sirens still echo in my mind, like a reminder of that night.

"This is all your fault. You drove that boy to madness and turned him into a weakling." My father shouted as we sat in the corridor of the hospital. My hands were pressed to my ears as I tried to block out his voice. "Save him, God, please. Just save him this once, and I promise I will eat all the peas and carrots. I promise, just save him," I sobbed. 

I was just thirteen back then. Too young and naive to understand my brother's actions and his attempt at taking his own life. I just wanted him to survive, and I had traded with God for his life in exchange for peas and carrots. 

My mother broke down in tears as my father blamed her for my brother's condition. He claimed my mother had neglected her child, which made him overdose. But that was not the truth.