3 Glasses

**Disclaimer**

The content of this piece is incredibly dark and does not represent any actual danger I am in.

This is a creative attempt at a discussing a tough subject that not many people can freely discuss.

If you have questions feel free to send me a private message.

**Trigger Warning**

Animal cruelty

Emotional/Psychological abuse

Emotional/Psychological trauma

Alcoholism

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I had a small pet kitten when I was only 10 years old.

I bonded with him almost instantly.

I found him in our barn, belly up, napping in a pile of hay.

He was warm and soft and closed his eyes tenderly when I pet him.

My brother, sick with the drink, hated him.

He grew fond of burrowing himself in shoes that were left around the house.

It drove my brother insane.

When I came home from school, he would run to the door to greet me.

When I would go to bed, he'd jump up and nuzzle his head in my pillow.

When I would get up, he would get up, and follow me around the house.

I woke up one Saturday morning, my brother was sitting downstairs in the dark...

Already clouded up with a glazed over look in his eye, his cigarette smoke caressing the outline of his jawbone.

He looked at me with content, smiled and slurred, "Good Morning."

His hands were scratched and bloody, but my brother did not seem to mind.

I went searching for the kitten, and then I saw him.

Lifeless in a bucket of water out back.

He looked just like I found him... seemingly sound asleep, unaware of the life that was taken from him.

He was left floating, suspending in the still water like an angel stuck in purgatory.

My brother walked out and saw me.

He smirked, "I'm not a cat person..."

It's only a distant memory now--

But a solemn reminder of the life I sorely live...

Of the man I call my brother...

Of the people I call my friends...

Of the men I choose to date...

And the man I see when I look in the mirror.