Element

Element I.

I.

"This is my house and you WILL listen to me dammit!"

That was the first thing I heard coming home from school last April. My drunk of a father and my older brother were going at it again. For someone who lived in a household that fought most of her life, it came as no surprise to me. My name is Helen Reece and I live with my washed-up father and my best friend Michael who also happens to be my older brother by four years. Life wasn't always like this. We were once a loving family back when my mother was here but she died when I was seven and life seemed to spiral out of control after that.

I remember the day perfectly. Michael and I were out playing in the snow trying to see who could make the better snowman. Of course he did but I refused to give up. Just as I was about to admit defeat we heard our father's truck come barreling up the road.

I had always been a daddy's girl growing up and my favorite time of the day was when he would come home. As he pulled up into the drive, I ran and greeted him at his car door. He swooped down and kissed my forehead and asked where my mother was. I told him she was in the kitchen making dinner. He then rubbed my head and walked inside. As a smile found its way onto my face I refused to let Michael's superior snowman skills get the better of me and I made my way back into the yard. As I was approaching him I was stopped in my tracks by the most heart-wrenching howl I have ever heard. In that moment, Michael and I made eye contact and we ran for the house. As we rounded the corner to the kitchen we heard the anguish cries of my father as he sat with my mother's lifeless form in his lap.

The doctors said it was a heart attack and no one could have done anything to stop it. However, I didn't feel that way. For years I would play that scene over and over in my head all the while thinking that if Michael and I had just decided to stay inside we could have called someone. No matter what though, she did die and there was nothing I could do to change it.

After her death, my father turned to his best friend, Jack Daniels. As he slowly drank his life away, my brother and I took over the responsibilities of the house. I learned to cook and clean while my brother tried to provide for us. My parents had some savings left but soon enough it ran out. My brother then sought out doing odd jobs for the neighborhood until he was old enough to get a job at a local garage shop fixing cars. By that time I was twelve and was perfectly capable to answer the phones at the garage. Ron, the owner, paid me underneath the table for all my help and with that money; we had just enough to make ends meet and not a penny more.

Life was not easy but with Michael's help it was do-able. Michael eventually graduated high school and stayed around to help me out until I was able to graduate. I worked my butt off and I was able to skip a grade in hopes of an early graduation. I was fifteen and was finishing up my junior year when I found myself walking into the situation that was currently taking place in the back room.

"Ha, your house my ass, It is me who pays the mortgage, me who pays the bills, me who buys the food, and me that takes care of your sorry ass! You want to say you're the man of this house but all you are is a washed up drunk living in the shell of the man I used to call my father!" My brother screamed.

I stood there in shock as I listened. Granted that everything Michael said was true but I never heard him say it. As I continued to stand there I heard a loud thump and I knew it was my que to step in. As I barged in, I saw my father standing there steaming with rage and my brother picking himself off the floor. Let me tell you, even though my father is a drunk he was still an intimidating man. He stood at about 6'1" with dark brown hair and eyes that looked like ice. He had the physic of a bull and no man would dare mess with him. It wasn't hard to see why my mother wouldn't fall in love with the old him but now he was nothing more then a man who didn't care about his children and cared even less about himself.

However, my brother was not as weak as it would seem. My brother stood at 6'3" towering over my father with dirty blond hair and blue eyes that could cut glass. My brother was a spitting image of my mother and sometimes by simply looking at him; my heart would ache for the mother that I longed for.

As for me, I stood at a height of about 5'8" and I was fit with just enough curves to make it work and legs that were too long for my own good. I had dark brown curly hair that fell to the middle of my back that had a hint of red in it when the sun hit it just right. I had bright green eyes and my brother used to call them traffic light as kids because they wouldn't always stay like that. Yes, normally they were green but when I was excited, they turned into a gold color with a green ring in the middle, when I was sad, they turned blue with a green ring, and when I was mad they turned into a deep scarlet color with a green ring. Ever since my mother's death however, they never changed colors again.

As my brother finally got back to his feet, I could see where the bruise that would make up his black eye start to form. With his jaw clenched and his hands curled into tight fists, I could only imagine what was going to happen next. I quickly stepped in and put my hands on my brother's chest. As I looked up into his eyes about to tell him to stop, the words were caught in my throat. No longer was I looking into the blue eyes that were a spitting image of my mother's but rather they were black orbs that seemed to shine like coal.

As I finally snapped back to reality, I stared pushing my brother back telling him to calm down that he would regret whatever he was about to do. As he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, I could see what I was saying was making sense to him and he started to calm down. As the situation started to diffuse itself, my father spoke up.

"Michael, I want you out of my house or so help me I will not say sorry for what is about to happen."

As my brother watched my father and I watched him, I knew that my brother's mind was made up.

"As you wish father" my brother spit out with a hard look in his eyes.

As my brother turned to leave I tried to rationalize with him telling him he couldn't go, he just couldn't leave me but I knew it was rather pointless. As he grabbed all his things and let me tell you, it wasn't much, he turned around to say goodbye.

With tears pouring down my face he wrapped my in a tight hug and kissed me on top of my head. He bent down to look my square in the eye so he could speak.

" I have to do this. I should have left sooner but I stayed for you."

"But why? Why do you have to leave?" I practically blubbered as new tears streamed down my face.

"When you are older it will all makes sense to you but I need you to know that I love you with all my heart and no matter what I will always take care of you!" He wrapped me up in another hug and I knew somehow deep down inside that he was telling me the truth and that I will be okay.

As I leaned out of the hug I asked him, "Will I see you again Michael?" All he could manage was a small smirk and said, "Of course kid, I will always be watching so no worries, and we will be together again. I promise."

As fresh tears streamed down my face, he left. He climbed into his old beat up truck and drove off, never looking back. That was the last time I saw him but two weeks later I got my first check. I wasn't much but it helped out a lot with bills so I knew it was from him. After that, life continued on. I refused to speak to my father unless I had to and his drinking got worse. It was pretty bad until I came home one day to find him dead. Turned out that his drinking lead to liver disease that eventually became a ticking time bomb after that. To say I was shocked was a lie but I guess with his death I realized how alone I was now. I no longer had a mother or father and the only person I had left walked out a year ago and that was it.