Because he was so cruel, he felt no remorse for his oldest son, no matter how many times he beat him. Maybe he thought of it as a punishment, but for Sam, it was torture. I had found him many times out cold on his bedroom floor, shaking. The scars on his back, as clear as ever.
When I was younger, I had thought that he felt bad for having to reprimand him. I was wrong. I had seen him after he was through with Sam. His eyes were full of (not sorrow), pure malice. Pure evil. It had never crossed my mind that he did not care for us, even after the many times he denied us hugs and kisses and shoved us away when we had a question. I also did not know that alcohol was the reason he was so cruel. He was addicted to it. That's what my father is. An alcoholic. He could not stop drinking, and he could not stop hurting us.
One day I realized the truth, when I heard Sam telling one of my best friends, Lily.
"Weren't you listening, Lily?" Sam declared. "They don't care. They've never cared."
A shock of realization dawned upon me. He was right. He didn't care. I realized that if he did, he would have stopped drinking. If he truly loved us, he would stop. But he didn't. Not only him, her as well. My mother. She wasn't cruel, but she acted like we didn't exist. I've tried to talk to her, but she never answers. She's always pale...staring straight ahead. her eyes seem to never blink. I thought for the longest time that she was mute...unable to speak. I later realized the reason for her silence. She was a very nervous woman. If you ever yelled at her, she would flinch. My father was to blame. She was terrified of him. That's why she never speaks.
There are sayings people used to say, like "Home Sweet Home." Home is not sweet, at least not for me. And another, "Home is where the heart is." There is no heart here, just a cold, dark blackness that envelops this mansion of hatred and animosity. I don't know how many times I've wished myself away from this place, with its cold, empty walls.
There are no feelings here. No love. Love. What a funny word, for I have never felt it. Except towards Sam. He's the only one. As the years went by, there were many times that I have cried myself to sleep.
"No one loves me." I sobbed. "No one loves me."
"I do." a voice whispered in the darkness. I would look up into the kindly face of Sam. He smiled. I smiled back. His bright blue eyes sparkled in the lifht of the moon shining through the window. His shaggy black hair illuminated. I knew he did. For he was Sam, my brother, the only one who cared.
-Vera Black
"Vera," a voice said.
I looked up. Sam was standing in the doorway. I closed my diary and placed it on top of my dresser.
"We were called downstairs nearly ten times already."
"And you didn't go down?"
Sam shrugged. "We better hurry, though. If Dad..."
"SAM BLACK!" a gruff voice called.
Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He trudged out the door with me trailing behind him.
"Where have you been, boy?" Dad demanded when we had arrived downstairs.
"Upstairs," he mumbled.
"Sit down," he ordered. Sam obeyed.
"You too." he said to me, and I did.
Soon, everyone was seated, as our cook placed our food in front of us.
"How are those friends of yours?" Dad asked maliciously. "Have you broken off your friendship with them yet?" I could tell he was drunk. I could smell the foul alcohol on his breath.
Drunk or not, Dad still didn't particulary like Sam's friends, nor mine. He found them "Inferior" and unsuitable for us to associate with. We were one of the richest families in the state. He preferred that we made friends within our own "class".
Sam was shaking, and his face white with fury.
"They're fine," he said angrily.
"And what about that girlfriend of yours? What was it? Rose or something?"
"It's Lily," he growled.
The fight ended with Sam getting out of his chair.
"Where do you think you're going, boy?"
"Upstairs. Where do you think?" Sam snapped.
"Oh no, you're not. We're not done yet."
He cuffed him once, twice, three times.
Back talk was enough to get any parent mad, but he had no right to abuse him because of it.
I had enough. "Stop it!" I shrieked. "Can't you see ou're hurting him? Stop it!"
"Stay out of this, Vera!" he said. He slapped me clean across the face.
Gwen had her eyes covered, and Reg just stared. I felt my eyes cloud up with tears. I ran up the stairs, and cried. I could hear screaming from downstairs. The voice of my father and...it wasn't the cook nor Gwen. I smiled. My mother was standing up for her family for the first time.
Weeks went by, and one day, Sam made Dad really mad. He ran away, and this wan't the first time either. Dad eventually found him and dragged him home. Sam was beaten again, a beating that nearly cost him his life. He ended up in the hospital. He was in a coma for two months. Dad was sent to jail, and Sam was shipped off to a foster home. I thought that he would be close, somewhere in New York. When I found out that they had sent him to England, I cried. They sent him far away, so he could be away from this family if Dad ever escaped.
He wrote letters at first, but after awhile, he stopped writing. I concluded that something horrible had happened to him, that now he really was...gone...forever.
I was wrong. Two years later, in my junior year, our family went to England for vacation. We were taking pictures of Buckingham Palace, when I heard a very familiar voice behind me.
"Vera?" the voice sounded surprised.
I froze. Was I having a psychotic breakdown? Was I hearing things? It couldn't be. I turned around. I couldn't believe it. It was!
"Sam?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.
He nodded. "It's alright Vera, I'm not a ghost!"
My mom, Reg, and Gwen seemed to see him. They all ran toward him.
"Oh, thank goodness!" I said hugging him. "I thought...I thought...we [/i]all[i] thought...you were...that you were...well..." I faltered.
"Dead?" he offered.
I nodded.
"It's alright." he said. "I'm alright."
I smiled. Lily would be thankful to hear that, and so am I.
Mom gave him a huge hug, which I got stuck in between. She was crying happy tears and smothering him with kisses, something he'd never received before. It was the best family reunion. Maybe we weren't so loveless after all.
