My Brother |Emmi

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My eyes welled up with tears. I felt safe with my arms around him. I sobbed into into his shirt.

"Why are you sad?" He asks.

We pull apart.

He's grown so much.

His eyes are smaller.

His hair is a darker shade of blonde.

He's taller.

He's

My little brother.

Jonathan.

Jonathan Christopher Elton.

"It's missed you so much." I cry, hugging him again.

"Emmi, why did they take me away from you? Why couldn't mom take me too? I could've been with you for these past eight years." Jonathan says as the police car starts moving.

"Breela or Bree. That woman doesn't deserve to be called mom. And you're lucky Johnny. She was abusive--" Jonathan cuts me off.

"What does abusive mean?"

"She hit me. Left bruises on purpose. You don't ever want to live with her. She was mean. Breela didn't care. I wish I could've gone with you, Jo Jo. I couldn't. She won custody. I'm sure of you were older, you could've faught. We could've faught." I wrap my arms around him. He snuggles his he'd into my chest.

"Oh. I missed you." He hugs me.

"Who toke care of you bubba?" I ask, looking over to the road.

"A lot of nice ladies. Than some other lady, Becky took me to her home," Suddenly a wide grin spreads across Jonathan's face, "Emmi she adopted me two years ago! She's real nice. Maybe she'll let you stay with me."He smiles.

I realize how different our lives have been.

I've been hurt.

He's been loved.

I've been struck.

He's been hugged.

I raised myself.

He was raised by a good mom.

But I would never, ever in a million years switch places. He is my little brother. I would do anything to keep him safe.

"Good. Why did you come bubs?" I asks, stroking his arm.

"Well Becky got a call. They said you were hurt," He points to my cast, "Is that what mo--Bree did?"

"Yes." I reply, slowly. The painful memory's of her horrible screams played in my mind. Her stinging slaps. The cracks of my bones.

I feel tugging on my shirt which brings me out of my trance.

"Emmi! Are you okay?" He asks.

"I'm fine--it's okay." I say, sighing.

"You're not," Jonathan says, "It's Bree, isn't it?"

"Yes." I say, picking at the pink cast.

"I won't let her hurt you anymore. Becky will help you. And Libertie, or Libby. And Michael and Savanna. They're my siblings. They're so nice!" Jonathan smiles, but it fades.

"Emmi?" He turns to me.

"Yea bud?"

"Is, is She going to take you away again? I don't want you to go! I'm only ten, but I know what she did to you was wrong. She deserves to go to jail. I barely remember you in memory. I just remember you from letters and phone calls and pictures. It's been eight years. Eight years." He mutters.

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