Blood Line

3

There was a huge difference between my brother and me. He was the oldest, then it was me, but I never thought that we would be treated differently, I thought we were a family. Even then, if we were treated differently, I didn't think that I would be excluded from my own family. Writing this now, I keep thinking about all the other people that've been through something or are going through something. How is that person dealing with their issues or whatever they are going through? I wish I was smart enough or I had enough courage to have been able to go to the authorities or someone who would've helped me, but I guess I was weak.

Sitting in my room, trying to not burst out crying over all the things I'm writing, is harder than you think. I have to finish this before she gets home. You may think that me writing this, is a way for me to make things seem worse than they actually were, you could be right. But for me it's all about the mental and physical damage I endured over the years. Well, moving along, let's talk about school. I loved my school at first, the school plays, the trips, the friends, the random relationships. It was something you'd want to be a part of. Starting of the bat, school assemblies are the days that excited me the most, because if your name was called for something you'd get up and everyone would clap for you; it was a real achievement; at least for me.

Knowing this, I would always try my best in all my classes so I can get an award and go home and show my parents, but I don't remember if they even said anything about them. My memories just stop at getting the awards in school, that's it. I'm not sure if that's just a memory that was traumatic, so my brain doesn't recall it or what. Things at primary were better than at home, it was my escape, five days a week. I loved all my teachers, I even started to play the recorder, the usual instrument everyone starts with. Smiling just thinking about it, I remember the time when my father seemed alive, happy, he had returned from a trip to India and bought me a violin. My father wanted me to learn the violin and I was so excited to do that for him.

My school held the lessons and I started learning and I loved every bit of it. I was in my element; I was so happy. We all have a side of the family that we don't know a lot about but will always go to their house and visit them. I still remember all of them and where they live, I think they were from my father's side. For some reason they started to get more involved with us after my father's death, but we'll come back to that. From belt lashes to banging on my brother's door, that's how we started to spend the nights at my house. I'm surprised that were no complaints or that I know of. I wish I could remember more about him but like I said that's how the brain works. On other nights when my mother was working, my father would come home and me and my brother were in our bedrooms. We both had a strict schedule, bedtime was 8:30pm, always.

We weren't allowed to go out, listen to music, play games. It wasn't the life of a normal child or teenager. I don't know about how my brother felt about all of this, but I think he pretended to act like he was strong, and he believed everything my mother told him.

Then it happened.