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What’s normal, Dad? And please don’t call. I don’t want to talk on the phone.
Dad
Normal is whatever you decide it is.
What if my notion of normal is drastically different from everyone else’s? I don’t like being different. I hate it. I can’t cope with it.
Bran, listen. Society’s perception of normal is a learned concept. It’s an opinion that was passed down through generations until it eventually became a tradition. It’s rooted in people’s minds because it’s been taught for a long time, but fundamentally, it’s just an opinion. It means nothing just because people conform to it. You being different is fucking fantastic, son. You’ve risen above their sheep mentality and you can choose to be proud of your difference instead of hating it. It might take time to shake off society’s perceptions, but that’s okay. I’m here. Your mum is here. Your whole family is here to help you. All you have to do is say the words.
I don’t want to be different, Dad. I want to be like Lan. Why can’t I just be like him?
Lan is different, too, Bran. He’s so different, it drives me insane. He’s so different, he wears it like a badge of honor. You know this. He’s literally been diagnosed with narcissistic and antisocial personality disorder.
Yeah, but he seems normal.
Because he fakes it.
I fake it, too, but I don’t tell him that.
Me
Thanks, Dad. I’ll talk to you later.
Dad
Come over when you can. I have a lot of new recipes to teach you.
I send him a few heart emojis and then hide the knife, add a new plaster, and put on my watch.
On my way out of the studio, I congratulate myself for stepping back from the edge. Though it was all Dad’s work, really.
But for how long can I keep up this façade before it explodes in my face…?
Loud voices reach me as soon as I’m close to the living room. Lan—of course, he’s ninety-nine percent the reason behind all trouble—Eli, and surprisingly, Creigh, who barely speaks.
He’s shouting now.
“What’s with all the commotion—what the…” I trail off when I see Creigh beating Lan to a pulp against the sofa.
I storm toward them, but Eli grabs me by the nape and pulls me back. “This isn’t your place.”
“What the actual hell? Lan’s bleeding.”
“Aw. You worried about me? I should’ve asked Creigh to beat me up earlier.” My brother can barely speak, teeth bloodied, but he drops a hand on his chest. “So touched, I could cry.”
I wiggle against Eli’s hand, but my cousin keeps me in a death grip while Creigh continues punching my brother.
“Stop them!” I bark at Eli. “Why are you letting this happen?”
“Your brother needs to be put in his fucking place.”
“He’s going to kill him!”
“Small price to pay for all the fuckery he does.”
My heart lunges harder the more Creigh beats Lan. The sound of his punches echoes in the air like a haunting symphony of violence. The fact that I can’t help fills my throat with nausea.
Through it all, Lan steals peeks at me and even winks. Fucking twat.
