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“Fucking sorry.”
He roars, but it’s not loud like it should be. The mattress shakes violently. Over and over. My neck sways with each thud. He is pounding it with his fist, I think. There is so much pain in his tormented growls. I want to hold him, but I can’t lift my arms and I’ve forgotten why. My legs flop, muscles loosen, and his cum slides slowly out from between my legs.
I feel his forehead meet mine again, and tears stream down my cheeks, but they aren’t mine.
Breath cascades across my face. “I . . . can’t. . . let . . . you . . . leave. . . me . . . again.”
Bronson
Six years old
I sit in the bathtub.
It’s cold. So cold. . . it hurts.
My body feels strange. Slow. Like I’m asleep. But I’m wide awake. I play a game. Breathing out, forcing the smoke from my body, watching it float through the surrounding air.
It’s getting hard to play this game.
Breathing is getting hard.
I look down at the painful water, the ice cubes that knock into each other. It looks deep.
Something moves. I look up at my brother’s blue lips. He is shorter than me, so his shoulders sit just above the surface. He looks strange. Smaller than he normally is. A different colour, too. A different expression on his face. Still.
I don’t think I like the way he looks.
Max is such a good boy. I thought little brothers were annoying. But he isn’t. He’s quiet. Every night, he cleans up his toys. But sometimes he forgets to close the drawers.
She doesn’t like that.
He eats all his food, but sometimes he drops bits on the floor.
She doesn’t like that.
I can see that he tries.
Why doesn’t she see?
And my little brother, Xander. He is naughty. Naughty butso sofunny. I see him making everyone laugh. Even Max. I’m glad he isn’t in the water. I’m glad he’s naughty because she locks him away in a cupboard. She doesn’t like his screams. I think the cupboard is better than the water. But I’m not sure.
I think that if I had to choose my brothers, I would choose Max and Xander. I like them. I don’t know what love really means, but I think I know how it feels. It feels like always. Like you want them to be near you always. I think I love my brothers.
As I focus on Max again. His eyes are very still. And I wish he wasn’t my brother today. Wish he didn’t leave the drawer open. Wish he didn’t drop his food.
Then he wouldn’t have the blue on his eye.
Then he wouldn’t have the hurt on his stomach.
I don’t like the way he looks right now. Not at all.
I look at our mum. She is looking at her nails. They are pink. I think she is pretty. But. . . she is not pretty too in a different way. I blink at her. I squeak. My voice is little. More little than normal. She doesn’t look up.
I look at Max.
I look at my mum.
I look at the bath.
