Pain. Agonizing, skull splitting pain.
Where am I? Why am I here? Why is it always the same?
I started shuffling forward, each step sent a lightning bolt of electricity through my body. I began screaming. Screaming so loud it made my ears pop and my throat burn. My scalp itched, it felt like millions of little bugs were crawling around in my brain.
Make it stop.
I dug my nails into my hair, ripping the flesh off my head and face, all the way down to my feet. The bugs were gone now, but I still felt something slithering inside me. My head started ringing, I started screaming louder, my footsteps getting heavier. Make it stop, make it stop, stop, stop, stop screaming, stop, please.
My hands lifted to my throat and ripped out my trachea and esophagus. Along with them I removed my lungs. I was finally able to breathe.
Blood streaked the ground behind me, it pooled around my feet and splashed with every step I took. My heart began beating so hard and fast it became unbearable. Make it stop.
I used my nails to tear apart my chest and felt an odd feeling of satisfaction as I tore out my heart and watched as it stopped beating in my hand. I threw the disgusting thing to the ground and drove my heel into it.
As I stepped forward, I slipped in my own blood and fell. My head slammed against the concrete. With the last bit of strength I had left, I banged my head against the ground. Over and over and over again. Eventually my skull cracked and spilled its contents all around me.
I was finally free.
I bolted upright and looked around, I was in my bedroom, alone. My sheets were soaked with sweat, as was my entire body. The click read 2:15am, as usual. Every night I was lucky to get at least two hours of sleep; tonight I barely got one.
I let out a sigh and gathered up my bedding to wash it. No one was awake, no one ever was. Every day was the same. Wake up from a disturbing nightmare, which has been the same for the past two weeks, wash my sheets, take a shower, clean the house, get the baby ready for daycare, wake up the boys, go to school, come home, clean, and repeat. It rarely varied.
Once I started the washer, I walked back upstairs to shower. When I looked into the mirror, I cringed. My blonde hair was knotted and sticking up all over, my eyes were sunken into my head and I had dark bags beneath them. I looked absolutely hideous, as I always do. Everything about me was wrong. My ears were too big, my nose wasn't as straight as it should've been, acne dotted my cheeks and forehead, and my lips were dry and cracked.
The only things I liked about my appearance were my piercings. I stood there for a few minutes, playing with my snakebites and my septum ring. I tried dragging a comb through my hair but decided against it when it snapped in half.
When I undressed I tried not to look at my body, it was covered in bruises and scratches. The freezing cold water made me feel better. Within seconds my body was numb and my scalp stung, but it felt great. My showers were wither ice cold or scalding hot, there was no in-between.
After my shower I put on an old band t-shirt and sweats and decided to clean the kitchen. I washed the dishes, swept the floor, got on my hands and knees and scrubbed the floor, fridge, stove, and anything else I could find. I loved cleaning, it helped relieve me of some of my anger and made me feel better.
Sometime around 4am someone came down the stairs and into the kitchen.
"What's up, my little insomniac?" My older brother, Mordecai, chuckled. He wore nothing but pajama bottoms and still managed to look gorgeous. I now knew why every girl that saw him instantly fell for him.
"Just... cleaning." I continued scrubbing a spot off the counter. "What are you doing up?"
"I couldn't sleep. Has Morgan come in yet?" Mordecai poured himself a glass of orange juice and scratched his chest.
"No, he's not here?"
"Nah, he went to a party or something." He lifted his glass and emptied it.
"It's a school night, and he has that test today. How could you let him leave?" I stared at my brother in disbelief.
"He's nineteen years old, Brax, he can take care of himself. You shouldn't worry so much, you're not his mother." His eyes immediately softened. "Braxton, I -"
"Stop. Just, don't say anything." I tried to hold back the tears but they began streaming down my cheeks.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it." Mordecai wrapped his arms around me tightly.
"I'm sorry for being so bossy." I whispered. "But Dad doesn't care about when you guys don't come home at night. He doesn't lie awake and wonder where you are or whether you're alright."
"I know, I know. Ever since Mom died you've been so strong. She would be so proud of you, Braxton. And I'm glad Morgan, Brady, and I are lucky enough to have a sister that cares so much." He looked me in the eyes and smiled. "You're fucking fabulous, darling," he said with a phony gay sounding accent.
"You're not too bad yourself." I smiled.
"There it is. I missed that smile."
The kitchen door swung open, making the two of us jump. Mordecai pushed me behind him and his entire body tensed.
"Morty! Aye bro, how you doin'? Lemme tell ya, I'm not doin' so great." When he finished his sentence my older brother Morgan, and Mordecai's twin, threw up all over the floor that I just cleaned.
"You little shit!" I yelled. "I just cleaned this floor, you fuck!"
Mordecai started grabbing towels , muttering to himself how he should've brought Morgan home hours ago.
"Goddammit, Morgan." Morty handed me a wet towel and I began wiping Morgan's face.
"Hi sissy. You look very pretty today. What's that in your nose? You look like a bull." Morgan began laughing hysterically at his own joke. "Especially because now you look really mad and your face is all red."
"It's 4:30 in the fucking morning. Why didn't you come home sooner?"
"The real question us," Mordecai started, "How did he get home?"
"I walked, silly goose. They wouldn't give me my keys because I was 'shit faced drunk'," Morgan quoted, which made him erupt into another fit of laughter.
"I swear to god, if Dad finds out about this you're fucked." I tried helping Morgan to his feet, but he ended up falling forward and into the island.
"Let him find out. It's not like he gives a shit about me, anyway." Morgan giggled and looked at me. "He still blames me, ya know. He's always gonna hate me, Brax. I'm a fucking failure." He slid down the counter and back onto the floor. His head lolled back and his eyes closed.
"Is he asleep?"
"Yeah." I helped Mordecai finish cleaning up our brother's vomit. When we were finished Morty carried Morgan into the living room and onto the couch.
His eyes were filled with so much pain and regret. He still blames me, ya know. He's always gonna hate me, Brax.
I wish there was a way for me to fix their relationship, but honestly I can't even fix myself.
