Tell Me Why

1. Your brother.

Your first friend. Your best friend. Your soulmate. Your brother. You looked at him. He was bloodied and battered. His hair was mangled. You squeezed the scissors in your hand, hoping they weren't real. You will never forgot the 'squelch' noise. Nothing would ever be the same.

Mom... Mary-Ann was weird. She was always finicky. Her puzzles, and stories. But you were her two goblins, the princess's' twin daughters. Neither of you ever saw it coming.

The diary felt like the start of the fiasco. Mary-Ann read about Ollie's frustration with her feminine body. Her body felt wrong. It wasn't who she was. It wasn't who he was. Her disapproval hurt Ollie. It hurt both of you, but you could feel a deep and bitter resentment inside of your sibling. It wasn't long after when you cut your sibling's hair. Your work was awful, but you tossed the scissors onto the table and wiped sweat off of your forehead. The job was done.

His hair, that had previously only been an inch shorter than yours, was now mostly gone. It was choppy and messy. Your eyes burned when you looked at him. His own eyes were brimming with salty tears. You were so proud. You felt the same overwhelming excitement he did. Your miniature-hivemind spoke paragraphs, when you could only outwardly give a sigh of relief while you enraptured him a tight hug. He was nervous, but confident. You stayed behind, keeping yourself busy so he could have privacy to show himself off to your mother.

You didn't know if it was because you asked her to read multiple bedtime stories, or if it was the gallon of ice cream. You didn't know what it was that made Mary-Ann so angry. Later that night, Ollie told you that it had to have been the haircut.

You had waited for a long time before deciding to leave your room. There was a nervous energy in the air, neither mom nor Ollie was around. You decided to preoccupy yourself with melting ice cream that Mary-Ann must have left on the table.

Ollie screamed for help. It was ear-piercingly sudden. Instinctually, you grabbed the scissors off of the table, right where you left them, and ran toward the door. You already regretted the night before it was even over.