• I woke up to a ceiling that wasn't mine, and it took me a few seconds to remember the

    events that occurred the past few days. You wouldn't believe how suffocating it was,

    laying there staring at the almost perfect ceiling. Taking a deep breath, I closed my

    eyes again, letting my senses take me over. Of course it was inevitable that the

    memories took over my mind, like an addiction. Something that wasn't wanted and yet

    so desperately needed. This particular memory stuck out like a festering sore in my

    poor battered mind. It seemed like eons ago, that particular summer in that tiny house.


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    My father had come and took us away ( picked us up from our grandmas), and to our

    astonishment, she was there. Her and the boy. Our supposed half brother. I could

    remember the sudden intrigue that took me over. I kept wanting to steal glances at the

    cute little boy sitting next to me. Of course, my younger siblings recoiled from him as if

    he was some sort of nasty thing. I didn't blame them, I mean, who wouldn't want to

    ignore the child that had indirectly ruined our lives? I remember shifting uncomfortably

    in my seat, familiar swelling discomfort in my chest making my heart twitch in pain. We

    had come to fear and hate our father, and yet, when he wraps us in his strong muscular

    arms we can't help but feel safe and warm. It's an odd thing, to love and hate someone

    at the same time. When you lived with him, you learned what the correct response was

    to anything he said. It changed with his moods of course. It was sort of like we were

    puppets, trained to say and do whatever the puppet master demanded at the time. It

    was how we survived in that house, it was how we took care of each other, and learned

    to almost read each others thoughts. I was how we learned to read people, and the

    atmospheres that they brought. Its why we submit to people easily. Because it was

    drilled into our subconscious that you bowed and averted your eyes to live. Anyways,

    this particular night, he was going to drop us off, but he didn't want to leave us alone.

    You would think this is a good thing that a good father would do, but we knew better.

    He was using us, as he always did, to get to our mother. He wanted control, which is

    exactly what he got from us. We, my brother, sister, and I, were mad. She wasn't

    answering her phone, and she was two hours late from work, we were hungry, and all

    we wanted to do was get inside. (We were parked outside the house, since he wouldn't

    let us leave the car.) She finally pulled in, and they we arguing of course.

    "Give me the kids back!"

    "No, were have you been huh? Can't even take care of the kids?"

    "It's none of your damn business anymore, give me the god damn kids!"

    "******** you!" At this he turned to us and said, "Do you guys want to go with me and rent movies?"


    He was of course bribing us, and we of course, knew this. Under normal circumstances,

    we would say no, and you have to understand, even this was no easy feat for my

    siblings and I. When you live in fear for so long, it becomes apart of you, ingrained into

    your very being. Its practically programmed. Its very hard to go against your

    programming. Of course, I said under normal circumstances. I stole another glance at

    the small child sitting next to me, and I made up my mind. "Yeah, we want to go with

    you." I said so brightly it was disgusting. That was the thing with my dad, if you weren't

    happy, you pissed him off. You were never unhappy. Ever. Now, this is one of the

    moments in my life that I truly truly regret. I couldn't help it though, that boy, Erick is his

    name, intrigued me so much that I just had to see him more, to see what he was like.

    He's too young to quite understand what is going on around him, and yet, you could see

    something there. Something smart. Whoever said children are stupid are dead wrong.

    He's exactly the same as us. A child of fear. A child with a sense of preservation. A child

    that knows the rules, and all the answers. What to say, and what to do. In the face of

    this, how could I not want to spend a little more time with him? As I said though, I wholly

    regret this, even know. I believe it was a trigger. A trigger to my moms downfall. I could

    feel that hate practically radiating from my siblings for my betrayal. But that could be

    ignored. What caught my attention was my mother. All I heard from her was a "Fine".

    She turned away from my dads car and walked to her own, leaning in and pulling out

    two large bags of Mc Donalds. She walked into the house alone, and I watched her

    horror-struck. Now, I'm sure since you weren't there and haven't lived like we have, you

    don't understand the gravity of what I just told you. We were poor. Dirt poor. We never

    knew when we were going to eat next. The meals we got at school were about the only

    good food we got a day. (It makes you really appreciate the food you have now that's

    for sure) So even food like Mc Donalds was heaven. That's not even the worst part. As I

    said before, you really learn to read people and atmospheres, and of course, after all

    we've been through with our mom, of course we would know her best. That night

    looking at her back as she walked in the house, I felt one of the most desolate and

    lonely feelings I have ever had the displeasure of feeling. I could practically feel my

    heart break in two. Of course it would look like we were choosing her over him. I knew

    how much she feared being alone, how much she needed support. I almost cried right

    then and there, and my heart still feels like ripping in a thousand pieces just thinking

    about it. I felt that, not only had I betrayed her, I had also broke her heart, that was just

    as beaten as mine was. I realize now that the damage was far more dangerous.

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    I blinked my tears back as I laid there, tearing my mind away from that feeling and that

    memory. Getting up I paused for a moment. No, it was not and still isn't my fault that my

    mother is the way she is now. And no, there wasn't anything I or anyone else could do

    better to prevent what happened and what is still happening to her. It really makes me

    wonder is this really was a chain of events, that was inevitable and unstoppable? I would

    like to think not. Suddenly that boy from yesterday came to my mind. Yesterday night

    looking out over the hole, the smell of freshly cut grass and rich earth. The beautiful

    sounds of the cicadas and the warm breeze. And most importantly, that familiar figure,

    so quiet and peaceful, simply sitting there. Yes, that boy was something to look into

    indeed. I smiled to myself and thought, "If that was an inevitable and planned event, I wouldn't mind one bit."