Biker Boy Gunnar ✔️

Twenty Five

TW/ suicidal thoughts

Family.

      They're suppose to be the people you can always count on to have your back. They're suppose to cherish you, sympathize with you, help you when you need help and most importantly they're suppose to love you. The love they should have for you should be deeply rooted into your soul. It should consume them like a whirlpool viciously swirling in hopes of claiming another victim.

     Sure my father showed me love—in his own way—his love always had strings attached to it.

"I love you mija," He would say in his deep Bolivian accent. "But if you don't shoot Richard I'll shoot Sebastían in his vertebrate."

     I remember when I first saw my father hit Bash. Bash was only interested in reading books, and solving math problems for fun. Bash kept refusing to learn how to shoot a gun. Dad must have been in an extremely bad mood because the next thing I know Dad heavy hand slammed against eight year old Bash face. The sound of the wing mirror breaking as my dad punched Bash so hard in his face, to the point of making it impossible for him to stand on his feet. I can remember the sound of my terrified scream erupting from my throat as I dashed toward my fallen brother.

My father pushed me out of the way before I could even reach Bash. My screams mixed in with Bash painful cries of pain were deafening to the ear. My bottom was in pain because I had fell backwards, dad henchmen had helped me up. They had refused to let me aid my injured brother. Once dad was done, he had apologized to me for pushing me down on the ground. He proceeded to teach me how to shoot a .9mm. Every now and then I would look at Bash who had managed to set him self up right against the black truck.

He flinched and his breathing was very shallow. Dad abuse didn't stop there he tried suffocating Bash with a pillow, he shot him in the leg and even burned him a couple times. I use to find Bash in his room, specifically in a corner of his chosen with his knees bent and his hands placed on opposite sides of his head. He would be struggling to breathe and his heart would be slamming so hard against his chest you could metaphorically see it.

As I watch the two of them batter back and forth I notice subtle signs that Bash is about to have a panic attack. He continuously wipes his hands on his black suit bottoms, his chest is rising at an unsteady pace. One would think he is angry but I know it's cause he is fighting his anxiety.

"What's going on?" I finally speak up after realizing neither one of them were going to notice my presence.

Immediately dad turns towards me. "Hola mija."

He held his arms out for a hug, cautiously I walked towards him and allowed him to engulfed me in his cool water aura.

"Hola papa," I replied as I pulled out of his hug and looked between him and Bash. "Que va a en aqui?"

"Father, son disagreement." He replied sending a sharp look in Bash direction.

Bash roughly ran his hand through his hair, then sat on the edge of the mahogany desk table. Under his teal eyes were small bags indicating the amount of stress he has been under these pass couple of days.

"Bash are you alright?" I questioned. He kept rubbing his hands on his pants leg and his right leg kept bouncing up and down at a rapid face.

"He's fine mija, stop babying him." He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and turned us so we could walk out the door.

"But-" I tried to protest, I even tried to glance back at Bash but dad had me in a tight grip making it impossible to turn around.

"Tell me about school, Are you keeping your grades up?"