Nobody Knows

prologue.

Author's Note; This story will contain some very triggering topics such as self harm, suicidality, mental illness, and abuse. Please don't read if you are triggered by any of those things.

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It started off when I was very young. No older than five years old. I was too young to understand that what was happening was not right and was not what was supposed to happen between brothers.

It carried on for about two years, until I was around seven. That's when I finally told my parents what was happening, thinking it was normal and perfectly okay.

Turns out I was wrong, silly little me.

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"Hey mommy, I have a question for you." I asked, running up to my mother who was preparing dinner.

"What is it, Ni?" She asked, turning away from the stove to pull me into a hug. She kissed my cheek, ruffled my hair then stood back up to stir the pot of stew.

"How come Greg doesn't kiss me like Marcus does?" I asked, my innocent little seven year old mind not grasping why my mother gasped, turning to me with a pale face and tears in her eyes.

"What did you just say?" She whispered, kneeling down to look me in the eye.

"Greg doesn't kiss me, but Marcus does. He likes to play with me and my wee wee a lot. How come Greg never plays with my wee wee?"

"Marcus! Get down here right this instant!" My mother roared, picking me up in her arms and carrying me into the living room where my father and Greg were watching a football match. "Greg, sweetie, can you leave the room? I need to talk to your brothers and father alone."

Greg shrugged, sliding off the couch and trudging up stairs just as Marcus came hopping down them. "Yeah Ma? What is it?" My seventeen year old brother asked, noticing the tears streaming down our mother's face and the look of pure outrage on our father's. "Did I do something wrong?"

"You piece of disgusting scum! How could you do that to your brother? He is only seven!" My father growled, grabbing Marcus by the throat and slamming him against the wall. "I could kill you for what you've done."

"What are you talking about?" Marcus whispered, his breathing cut off by the ever tightening grip of our father's hand on his windpipe.

"You kissed Niall and touched him inappropriately, that's what I'm talking about!" My father screamed in Marcus' face, getting little bits of spittle everywhere. "You are a disgusting, pathetic excuse for a human. Get out of my sight and stay the hell away from Niall!"

"I'm so sorry! Please believe me, I didn't mean to do it!" Marcus cried tears of guilt, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Out!"

Marcus cried and ran up stairs, slamming his bedroom door shut with such force it shook the whole house.

"Mommy, is Marcus in trouble?" I asked, clinging to her out of fear. I didn't mean to get him in trouble, I loved my big brother dearly.

"Sweetie, you don't have to worry about Marcus anymore." She whispered, kissing my head repeatedly as tears streamed out of her eyes.

°•°•°•°

And she was right, because Marcus killed himself that night. He hung himself with a strand of Christmas lights, and I found him.

But the thing is, I never knew any of this, up until now. My parents and brother never talked about Marcus, claiming he was an imaginary brother I made up. They didn't let me speak of him after the funeral, so I didn't know he existed.

Until I found his suicide note and obituary in a box in the back of my mother's closet when I was fifteen years old.