Meet the Family (second draft)

Expectedly, Mom and Dad had been fighting again. That was the third time in one day. I could tell it was the last one of the night by the way Mom was walking down the hall to lock herself in her bedroom for the night and Dad was getting louder and speaking with the satisfied tone of his victory. My little brother was hiding in the corner of his room where I found myself wrapped around him trying with all my might to shield him from the conflict. They were fighting about my older brother again; he’s been so out of control lately. My mom wants him to move out because all he does is cause trouble, but my to my dad my brother is the one person he can bond with. He’s very proud of my older brother. See, my family is complicated. But it’s a different kind of complicated than you’re probably thinking. I can’t tell you their names, not yet anyway, because that would cause a bias on how you viewed them as people, and I need you to really understand this. Maybe you will figure it out in your own along the way. Maybe to you they are someone different; but for now they are my family.

My mother is a very important part in my family. She is the only one allowed out of the house because she is what the neighbors expect to see in this town. A house of happy, smiling, independent citizens. Without her, people would be concerned about our family. She rarely cries, and she’s really good at smiling. She does an incredible job of making it seem like life in our home is perfectly fine. Life is toughest for her though. She’s never allowed to rest because all that happens inside that house is the constant war. She’s beautiful, and the way she carries such happiness is overwhelming to me sometimes. How is she so happy? Truth is she’s not; at the end of the day she has to come back to us. She has to be torn apart again. And for what reason? She will have to put on the same smile before she leaves the house again and again and again. But people are starting to notice the increasing forced effort put into her smiles. I’m always afraid that she is fading into my dad a bit too much, and day by day she won’t be as happy anymore. Until finally, when she leaves the house, people will be able to see what we have done to her. And they will try to help. She will want their help, but the funny thing is that the rest of us won’t let her get any. If she were to get help, they would try getting rid of my father and my older brother. Well, jokes on them. You can’t ever fully rid of something that played such a large role in your life. It would always live on in at least memories.

My father is a secluded person; He’s very reserved. In fact, most of my neighbors don’t know he lives here. Him and my older brother have a very special relationship however. They like to gang up on my mom and my younger brother at night when either of them have had a bit more to drink than they should have. My dad always supports him in every decision he makes, no matter how stupid or horrible it is. And my brother always makes my dad feel better about himself if he’s ever feeling down. My father and I never had the best relationship. I used to love to swim until one day he decided to find amusement in drowning me. I also used to take walks in the woods by myself until he made a game out of hiding and jumping out at me from the darkness of the trees. He still does things like that but I eventually got used to them. You start to expect fear. Like sticking tape to yourself and ripping off, then doing it again and again in the same spot. You don’t feel the shock of pain anymore. Its more like a constant numbing sting. But in the end, it still hurts just as much. I wouldn’t get rid of him if I had the choice, though. He’s my dad; he is familiar to me. He’s part of my home.

My older brother takes after my father, except he leaves more of a mark on this house than any of us. He is always tearing it apart and making it look like a disaster. He uses anything he can to cause that house damage. Why? I believe he thinks it impresses my father, and I’m starting to think the same thing. In fact I think it makes him feel better when my brother tears the house apart. I really don’t know for sure though; my dad is really hard to understand.

My younger brother is nearly the opposite. He always wants to do the right thing, and he is immensely afraid of my dad and my older brother. He is always asking when mommy is coming home. He is so helpless; so innocent. I try to take care of him the best that I can but there isn’t much I can do. He is sick; he is sick because my dad made him that way. I don’t know how or why, but it’s his fault. My younger brother can’t speak as loud as he used to, and he can’t do things on his own anymore. He’s fading away slowly but noticeably. He used to go everywhere with my mom, and I know she misses that. In fact, I think some of our neighbors miss it too. People like younger children for some reason. I think it has something to do with their innocence. Nobody seems to really have that anymore, and whenever they find any they dwell on it for as long and extreme as possible. They’re jealous, really. They think they could’ve tried harder to save their innocence, but in reality, everyone loses it eventually.

Me? Well I’m just me. I live here; I don’t even think I play a role in this house. All I do is watch the things around me happen, and I can’t control it. I can’t make decisions in this house anymore because my dad will always shoot me down. He and my mom make them now. Sometimes my little brother will chime in when he can, but his opinion doesn’t matter as much as it used to.

Do you get the big picture yet? You can never live with something and know it quite as well as a part of you. Let’s just say I know my family very well. My mother’s name is Impression. My younger brother’s name is Emotion. My father’s name is Depression. And my older brother’s name is Addiction. And my name?

I am Corruption.