Photographs

Chapter One

          My mom smiled and looked at me, I smiled back. We finished dinner and I helped her clean the kitchen while eating my cinnamon roll. Once we were done I went to my room. Once a week the school would send me a packet of homework to do. I would normally finish it on the first day. Dad was in his room watching TV, mom was reading in the living room.

            I used to have to share a room with Evan. Neither of us minded, in fact we liked it. Our room was small; it had my twin bed on one side and his on the other. A single desk separated them; it had a small bare bulb lamp on it. Our clothes were in a dresser at the foot of Evan's bed. He had the top three and I had the bottom three drawers.

            I hadn't touched a single thing of his. The red comforter still covered his pillow less bed, all of his clothes were still in the dresser and the drawer on his side of the desk was still filled with all of his papers. His football was still under the bed with his stash of porn’s, that only I knew about. It looked like he might come walking through the door at any moment to ask me if I was going to the game.

            I sat on my bed, only a thin sheet but I had a pillow. Our dad only gave us a blanket and a pillow, Evan and I would switch every night on who got what. I still switched. I sighed and shook my head. I was going to the clinic. Evan had told me that was a place for nut jobs and crazies.

            Tonight was my night with the blanket, but I really didn't feel like getting up to get it. Sighing I grabbed my pillow and threw it on Evan's bed, then I stood and grabbed the blanket. I lay down on my bed with the blanket on me. I was tired. Without getting up I slipped off my shirt and pants, then I curled into a ball and slept.

            My eyes flew open as I felt someone lay on top of me. My father. I lay frozen as he slipped under the blanket with me and pinned me under him. This had happened every few nights, but it stopped when Evan killed himself because of it. I had hoped it would stop forever.

            He grabbed my ear and I lay perfectly still. "I've given you enough time to get over that bastards death." he growled. He pulled on my ear and I held back a scream. The moment my mouth opened he shoved his tongue into it, and that was when my hell began.

~~~ 

            I didn't sit on the couch this time. I paced around the room. I was sore, so sore. I couldn't stop shaking. I looked at my doctor, he had been watching me silently for the whole half an hour I'd been pacing. "We were laughing because we were drunk." I told him. "I wasn't drunk, I don't drink, but Kimmy and the others were. We were laughing because they could barely even walk straight."

            He raised an eye brow. "Was your brother drunk?"

            I shook my head. "No. He'd only had one drink." I slowed in my pacing and finally stopped. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. "Only one drink, he didn't like drinking." I dropped to the ground and hugged myself. "Only one god damn drink." I started crying. I hadn't cried in a month, hadn't been able to.

            I heard my doctor stand up and felt him sit next to me. He put his hand on my back. "Let it out Brandon, let it out." he rubbed my back. "It's alright, you can just let it out."