𝔩̶𝔢̶𝔣̶𝔱̶ 𝔦̶𝔫̶ 𝔱̶𝔥̶𝔢̶ 𝔡̶𝔞̶𝔯̶𝔨̶

𝔬̶ 𝔫̶ 𝔢̶ ~ 𝔢̶𝔯̶𝔦̶𝔨̶

i remembered the light from the early sun shone through my window, the color of pinkish orange covering everything in a beautiful glow, it was as if for once, everything was normal, everything was calm and collected. air wafted into my room through the nearby window, i left it open that night, it helped me breath, it helped me cool down, when you get nightmares every time you go to close your sagging eyes, you need a way to calm down.

today was my tenth birthday, and it was going to be like any other birthday i had since i turned six. i would get presents, cake, attention, all of the things i wanted, but when the dust cleared and the room settled, my dad would ruin everything, he made me feel like it was normal, like it was fine to molest and rape your son. my brother, lyle, he went through it too when he was my age, but when he finally got to a spot where he wanted to stop, he got to, so why can i not get that privilege too? i figured it out when i was young, i finally figured out why my parents loved lyle and not me. lyle was strong, he could defend himself, and he could do something i couldn't.

he could tell my dad, no.

me on the other hand, was weak, distant, scrawny, and a faggot. at least that's what my dad told me, i remember going to lyle's room one night, sitting down next to him full of questions, but the only one i managed to squeeze out of my tightly sewn mouth was,

"lyle, what is a faggot?"

lyle made me was my mouth out with soap, apparently it was a bad word, and i wasn't supposed to repeat it after my dad said it, but for some weird reason, it stuck with me wherever i would go. i would go to school and get called it, i would come home and get it spat into my face. no where was safe.

i finally slid out of my bed, since it was my birthday, my father would take off of work, my mother would take off from being a high slut, and me and my brother would get the day off from school. it was honestly one of the only nice things my parents would do for me, they would make sure everyone is in attendance, ready for me to be truthfully happy for the day. i ran downstairs, hugging my mom by the waist since i wasn't tall enough to give her a real hug, my brother would soon come down after me, a huge smile tugged on his face. my birthday was one of the days i only saw lyle happy, whenever my dad was near him, or anyone else, he was always grouchy, not wanting to socialize, but when he was with me, i felt i new a different and exclusive person. he was always smiling, talking, and making sure that you always had to hear what he would say to you.

that's when my father would make it down the stairs. a cringe would appear on my face as i would hide behind my mother's legs, my dad would cuss under his breath and roll his eyes, he was always disappointed with me. whether it was i wasn't playing tennis hard enough, i wasn't good enough at sex for him, i didn't have good grades, he would always find something to pick on me for. i believed that he was doing a good thing for me, that he was looking out for me, but i finally learned, was that all he wanted was me around him, so he could think of little fantasies we could do later, or new positions we could try later during the night.

most of the time lyle would protect me, he sworn upon his own life he would do anything for me, he even said he would kill himself for me, that's what i love about him, he would do absolutely anything for me. as if i was important to his life or something, i had a feeling that i was important, i guess that his actions and words just cemented the blocks of thoughts i had into my little brick wall i was making up in my brain. my brother would come behind my mom's legs too, hugging me, making sure everything was okay, he wanted everything to be perfect for my birthday. but he didn't know what me and my dad were doing, what my dad would force me into. it pained me to see that proudness on lyle's face at the end of the day, he would tell me that another year has passed and he's still protected me, and he was able to keep the monster away. we would call my father the monster, he was really. he would hurt us so much that it reminded us of a monster we could never get away. but the monster still attacked me once lyle went to bed, it still took me, did what it wanted to me, took my virginity at six fucking years old.

i never wanted lyle to figure it out, know that it was still going on but he had his own problems he didn't want me finding out either. how our mom would force him to touch his inappropriately, how she would kiss him on the mouth for doing a good job. i felt like barfing, so i did, i would force myself to be sick to my stomach and run away from all of the situations. i'd go into lyle's room, and rush to his bathroom, letting all of it out into the rusty toilets we had. lyle would walk up behind me and pet the back of my hair, then he'd crouch down next to me, and hold me by the waist, laying his soft, brown haired head against my shoulder.

"let it all out." he would whisper softly into my ear, sending prickles up my neck from his warm and close breath. he'd rub my back slowly, aiding the process as i would continue to yack into the toilet in front of him. he would help me afterward too, he'd grab a clean rag, wetting it to clean my face, he would brush out my knotty, sweaty hair, and from time to time he'd just stay sitting on the floor with me, hugging me tight and saying it was all going to be okay. sometimes i would cry into his arms, as his fingers would brush over my tender face, my eyes permanently bloodshot, and my lips blistered from the acid i made myself regurgitate.

from time to time i would flinch in his arms, it would make him feel guilty, like he wasn't doing enough for me, but i loved him so much, he would go through hell for me, he'd skip meals to be with me, he would even stay locked in our bedroom just so i wouldn't have to be by myself, i would wonder why he'd do such things for me...

words: 1198