Chapter Text
Okay, I think the best place to start would be with my grandparents.
See, my grandparents, on my mother's side, are rich. Like, Rich rich. No one in our family will have to work for many, many generations kind of rich.
Hell, they were rich before they even met eachother. Grandma was the daughter of a CEO of one of those obscure companies that owns everything but no one’s heard of. Grandpa made his fortune through gambling and dumb luck.
They met, got married, and grandpa got hired by his father in law and was promoted to a high position in his company, where he would be paid to do basically nothing for decades to come.
That's all to say, they have a lot of money.
Eventually, they had a kid. My mother. And they treated her like an actual, real life princess. If she wanted something, she got it in minutes. If she didn't get it in minutes, she screamed. and if that didn't get her what she wanted, she cried until someone felt bad enough to do anything to make her stop.
But hey! She’s a little girl, that's just how they are, right? She'll grow out of it.
Yeah, no. She didn't grow out of it.
Right up into high school she did the same routine anytime something so much as inconvenienced her. Scream, stomp her feet, guilt trip.
And that's when she met my father.
Now, my father was your typical tough-guy bad-boy. Big guy, big attitude, black leather jacket, rides a motorcycle, smokes, drinks, even wears shades indoors. Whatever you're imagining, that's exactly what he looks like.
So of course, when he saw the most popular, prettiest and richest girl in school, he went for her. And unfortunately for everyone, for some reason she was taken in by his bad boy charm.
Well, that's what he told me, anyway. Personally, I think she saw an opportunity to disappoint her parents and took it.
And Boy were they Disappointed!
They were not interested in having this greasy loser in their family. And his family was broke, too. So if their daughter married him, they'd be family with a bunch of poor people, and they couldn't have that now could they?
You probably already guessed what happened when they told my parents not to see each other anymore, so I'm not gonna bury the lead. They eloped. Within a week. At the age of 16.
It went about as well as you'd expect. They had no skills, no life experience, and no interest in getting jobs. Well, okay, mom wanted to be a movie star. But other than that, they would rather sit around than actual jobs.
So they're living in a motel for like, a week, before mom goes home to scream at her parents to give them money. And cause they don't want their daughter to live in poverty, they start sending the couple checks every month.
And with their new found renewable fortune, they bought this Big Beautiful house at the edge of town, complete with an absolutely massive yard and backyard. The thing was placed relatively close to Ebott, so there wasn't much in the way of neighbors.
Mom tried her hand at getting him into film, and dad smoked and drank and watched TV.
Mom's movie career was going nowhere fast. Agents dropped her as soon as they got her, and her inability to convincingly act out anything other than crying or screaming wasn't doing her any favors. That, and no one she worked with ever wanted to see her again.
And that's how things stayed for about three years. Things deteriorated a lot in that time. It wasn't caused by anything, really. Just time making them realize how much they hated each other, I guess.
Eventually, things escalated to a breaking point, and they had two options. One, admit that mom's parents were right and get a divorce. Or two, double down and have a kid. Cause kids fix marriages.
So yeah. That's me.
I think I was about four or five when they told me it was my job to keep the family together. They made it pretty clear that was the reason for my existence. And I took that to heart! I made it my duty to keep them happy.
Dad was simple enough. He'd yell at me to bring him something, usually the TV remote or a beer, and I'd bring it to him. He was easy to please.
Mom was more complicated. At home, I just had to let her do whatever she wanted. Mom wants to dress me in a tiny tuxedo? Let her. She wants me to do a little dance? Do it. Outside of the house was where things got messy. Anytime anything didn't go her way, she'd have a full blown meltdown. Grocery store worker won't carry her bags to her car? Meltdown. Shirt in a store is a little too small on her? Meltdown. Make-up too expensive? Wind messes up her hair? Sun too hot? Meltdown. Meltdown. Meltdown!
My solution? Anytime she was having a meltdown, I'd get her attention, hug her and tell things like ‘it’s okay’ and ‘your a good mom’ and ‘I love you’ over and over again, and eventually, shed calm down, and we would move on.
I had it down to a damn science! If my job was to keep my idiot parents happy, I was very good at my job.
At least, that's how I felt. Until they said they were having another kid.
Skipping ahead a little to when I was twelve and Clover was four, things had changed.
By this point, my position as ‘the adult’ of the family had cemented.
Mom had already gotten bored of Clover by then. And since she didn't want to take care of them anymore, and dad wasn't gonna do it, it came down to me to make sure they were fed and bathed and all that.
It was frustrating, of course. I was already the one who cooked, cause I was the only one who bothered to learn how. I was also the only one who cleaned, cause the others figured out that if they just left their messes around long enough, I'd get fed up and clean it myself. I also did the dishes, dealt with the yard, washed the cars, cleaned the toilets, vacuumed, window wiped, took out the trash-
The point is, Clover was one of the few things that wasn't my problem.
And then, they were.
And I hated it. But I still did it. Why? Because there was something I understood very well at this point.
If I didn't do something, it wouldn't get done.
It wasn't necessarily my job to do all this stuff, per se. Our parents didn't, like, assign these tasks to me. I wouldn't be punished for not doing them or anything.
One of the few things that both mom and dad agreed on was a ‘hands off’ parenting strategy. Giving us the freedoms they never had when they were kids, as they'd say.
So it wasn't a rule that I ‘had’ to do these things. But I still did them. Why?
Cause they needed to get done.
And if I didn't do it, it wouldn't get done.
“That's a lotta pressure to put on yourself as a kid.”
Garrett and Martlet both jumped as a new voice piped up.
Garrett looked out through the bars. “What the-?! Is someone there?”
“Over here, in the other cell.” A green scaled hand waved from the jail cell next to theirs, “Name’s Vengeful Virgil, nice to meet ya.”
“... How long have you been here?”
“I was here when they hauled you in."
“And you didn't… say anything? Have you just been listening in this whole time? What the hell man?!”
“I didn't want to interrupt your bondin. That, and there wasn't a good place to make myself known.”
“And you chose now to jump in?!”
“Look man, I'm just say'n that this all sounds very traumatic. Put'n that much stress on a mind that young could only have left mental and emotional scars, the likes of which don't just disappear with time.”
“Fuck you dude I turned out fine!!”
“Alright, I know when Vengeful Virgil isn't wanted. I'll see myself out.”
*Snap!*
“... What the- Did he just break out?! Wait! Come back! Show me how you did that!!”
The sound of footsteps growing quieter could be heard from the window.
“... I think he's gone.” Martlet informed morosely.
Garrett slumped back against the wall, defeated.
… Martlet was looking at him with an expression that was just a little bit too close to pity.
“Will you quit looking at me like that!”
“O-oh, sorry.” She hadn't realized she was staring. “Don't worry. I'm sure Clover is doing everything in their power to get up out of here.”
“Let’s see what you got! Take this trusty six-shooter as a gift from me.”
(You got a Wild Revolver!)
This may be the greatest moment of your life.
“... I'm sure they are.”
*sigh*
Alright, where was I?
Right. So, I was in charge of Clover, and I thought it would be easy. I mean, if mom could manage it, how hard could it be?
Pretty fucking hard, it turns out.
Something I hadn't taken into account was that mom didn't do much outside of Clover. When she wasn't taking care of Clover, shopping, yelling at her newest agent over the phone, or “working” from home (which really meant trying out outfits and makeup), she was relaxing.
I, on the other hand, already had my plate full with playing house keeper. Now, on top of all that I have to manage Clover's meals and bathing and bedtimes and homework and- Oh! And mom decided that she didn't want to drive us to school anymore, so we have to walk there ourselves. And I'll remind you, we're surrounded by forest, so we have to walk miles to even get into town.
And then, fucking, get this. She asks ME to start doing the grocery shopping from now on. And when I ask her why she can't do it anymore, you wanna know what she said?
Fucking… you're never gonna believe this.
She tells me that she's been BANNED from EVERY GROCERY STORE!! EVERY SINGLE ONE!!
Apparently, once she’d had enough meltdowns in any given store, she'd get banned for life! And when that happened, she'd start going to a new one. And now shed managed to get her picture and the ‘do not serve’ sign of every. Single. Grocery Store. In town. And in the city. And in the cities within driving distance.
So guess who's doing the grocery shopping now!
This guy! The thirteen year old!
Keep in mind, I was thirteen, I couldn't drive, and we lived a good few miles from town.
This is about the point when I started to realize how much I actually hated my family. I finally, FINALLY got it through my thick skull that it didn't matter how much I did or how hard I worked, nothing I did was going to fix these people.
I needed a way out.
So, my new plan was to just stick it out until I was 18, grab Clover, and move the fuck out.
I started hoarding money. Allowance, leftovers from grocery shopping, anything I could get my hands on. I figured that by the time I was 18 I'd have enough to get an apartment or something.
Time passed… and then…
And then shit REALLY hit the fan.
Cause grandma and grandpa stopped sending checks.
We had no income.
I-
…
I'll spare you the details, but things got bad. Really bad.
We weren't completely out of cash. Mom's acting career was even bringing in small checks from time to time, and when that wasn't enough my stockpile helped make ends meet. It was enough to survive, but not enough to actually stay afloat.
In an effort to keep our ship from sinking, I started taking odd jobs wherever I could find them. I was still too young to get a real job with a real paycheck, so I was stuck with kid jobs like mowing old people's lawns and stuff like that. It paid like crap, and I had to compete with the kids who actually lived in those neighborhoods, but a full day's work would at least net me enough to buy the bare necessities.
I was also doing everything I could to reduce costs. Namely by reducing energy costs, keeping the heater off and stuff like that. And I always got a ton of push back for it, and that started a lot of arguments. I'd say ‘turn the heater off’, they'd say ‘no it's cold’, ‘then close the windows’, ‘no, the house will stink’, ‘well maybe if you'd put trash in the trash can instead of the fucking floor, the house wouldn't smell so bad’. And so on.
Things came to a head when summer was ending, and all the kid friendly jobs were drying up. Suddenly, our one and only source of income were mom's acting gigs, and she was sure to remind me of that fact every, single, time I asked for food money.
About a month into this, when I asked for grocery cash, she said she couldn't give me any.
I asked why not.
She said she spent all of it.
I asked what, exactly, was so important that she spent ALL of our food money.
She pulls out a dress.
And I look at this thing. And it's expensive. Really fucking expensive. Way more than she could have made from a background extra role in some c-list drama.
I asked how she paid for this.
She looked me in the eye, and with a big sweet smile like she didn't know she'd done anything wrong, told me that she took the rest of my cash stockpile from my room to pay for it. That it was only fair, given how many times I'd borrowed money from her.
And then, she looked me in the eye, and told me that if I wanted to buy something, I'd have to go and earn my own money.
I fucking lost it.
Instantly, things devolved into a screaming match. Back and forth, back and forth until our throats were raw.
Once she started bemoaning about how I wasn't her sweet little boy anymore, and that I'd become a monster and a bully, I decided I'd had enough. I told her I was going to go upstairs, grab one of her jewelry boxes, and pawn off everything in it to buy food so we could live.
She starts crying, saying in between hacks and sobs that I'm ‘attacking her’ and being ‘so mean to her’ and that it was ‘so unfair’ and blah blah blah blah blah.
And just when I'm at my limit for how much bullshit I can handle, fucking DAD get involved. It's the first time in his life he's actually doing something and he chooses to start yelling at ME for ‘disrespecting my mother’.
And I-
I…
“I… decided I'd had enough. I told them I was leaving and I wouldn't be coming back until they were ready to act like adults, and when that happened, they could call me. After that I grabbed my stuff, and left.”
…
“And uhh. They didn't ever call me back, so I didn't go back. And… that's why Clover and I didn't see each other for a few years. So, uhh… yeah. That's the story. See? I told you it wasn’t dramatic.”
…
So uh, after that, I kinda needed a place to stay.
I struck a deal with some friends to let me crash at their places under the guise of sleepovers. In exchange, I would do their chores for them. I'd stay in one kids place for a couple days, doing dishes and taking out the trash or whatever, and then move on to another guy’s place for a few days. Word spread that I was doing this, and suddenly I was getting offers to do this from kids I didn't even know!
So no, I wasn't homeless. If you think about it, I actually had lots of homes! If anything, I was homeMORE!
…
*cough* Anyway.
So I was getting food and shelter, but it couldn't last forever. Some of the parents were starting to catch on to my little sleepover scheme, and I had to find some more permanent housing.
The first place I tried was my grandparents place. Went to the front gate of their mansion and happened to catch them as they were going in. They uhh, made pretty clear I wasn’t welcome. Even said they’d call the cops if I stuck around. But hey, at least I found out why they stopped sending cash. Turns out they’d been trying for another kid for years, and once the kid was born they didn't have to rely on mom to keep the family going, they didn't want anything to do with her or anyone connected to her.
So I wasn’t gonna be living with them, and I was running out of places to couch surf.
But I got lucky. Real lucky. One of my temporary roommates got me in touch with his college dropout cousin, who was looking for a roommate to either split rent with, or keep the place clean. One of these I was very good at doing.
The neighborhood was bad, the building was run down, the apartment itself was a mess and my new roommate did nothing but get high all day.
And you know what? I was perfectly happy with that.
I was basically a master of cleaning by that point, so the place was spotless by the end of the first day. I hate cleaning, truly. But there’s one thing I hate more than cleaning, and that's a dirty living space. I had my own room, my own space, my roommate was rarely there and when he was he just got high and watched TV, so I had the run of the place most of the time. Hell, I was even closer to school! Travel time was a fraction of what it was before!
It wasn't easy, I still had to do everything myself. But all things considered, I had it pretty good.
Food was still a problem though.
I figured it out though. Got a job at a fast food place, and- well okay, it wasn't actually a job exactly. It was really more of an unofficial ‘arrangement that legally speaking no one can know about’ kind of deal (Long story, don't want to get into it). Point is, I was getting paid, and I was being fed (stealing scraps of food no one wanted).
Life wasn't easy by any means, but hey! I survived! I was living!
Over the next four years, I built a life for myself. I worked hard, saved up, and when I turned eighteen I bought and moved into my own apartment. Yes, bought! No more paying rent for me!
And my family was nothing more than a bad memory.
So imagine my surprise when, just a few days later, my mother showed up at my front door, with Clover, saying that they had to live with me cause her new boyfriend didn't want kids. She throws a bag of stuff in my arms and runs off before I could get a word out.
I still don't know how she tracked me down.
So. That's why Clover lives with me.
Found out around this time that dad was gone. Supposedly, after I left he started going into town to go to a bar. One night, he drove out to go drinking, as usual, and when got in his old motorcycle to ride back home he just… didn't show up. He just disappeared, and was never seen again.
We don't know he's dead, but uh, yeah, he's probably dead. My bet is he got lost, drove into the wilderness and drove off a cliff and into a lake or something.
Now, in the bag mom gave me was a lot of stuff, mostly Clover's belongings, but there was also some crumpled up paperwork. Papers for taking custody of Clover, and papers for taking ownership of the old house.
And since mom was living with her new boyfriend, no one was living at the old house. We could have lived there, of course. But… I didn't want anything to do with that godforsaken place. I emptied it out, sold everything I could and sold the place, which was a whole ordeal that I don't want to get into.
And.. Uh.
Yeah. That’s just about it.
“That's the story behind me and Clover.” Garrett finished.
Martlet sat slack jawed, staring at him from across the room.
She didn't know how to respond. Didn't even know where to start.
There was… a lot to unpack.
Angel… no wonder he was so stressed out all the time.
“Your mother just… left them there? With you? Just like that?”
“Yup. Just like that. That was, uh… that was something, even by her standards. “
“That's…” There were a lot of things Martlet could say about that, none of them kind.
Whatever she was going to say was cut off as someone entered the jail.
“Heyy~” The fish monster Moray appeared around the corner, holding a wrapped burger. “I brought you guys some- Oh. Were you in the middle of something?”
Yes, they very much were in the middle of something! Martlet had about a million questions and-
“Nah, we're pretty much done anyway. Please tell me you're here to let us out.” Garrett answered for them.
“No, but I did bring you some food! Here.” They offered Martlet the burger they were holding.
She gave them a glare. She had a lot to talk about with Garrett and she didn't think he'd be very open with Moray listening in.
“M-my treat, honest.” They said nervously.
Well, she was hungry. She took the burger and took a bite, but she wouldn't be happy about it!
…
Dang it! It was fantastic!
“Hey, you got any water or something?”
“No, just food. And I only brought enough for Martlet. Sorry.”
“Cool. Guess I'll go fuck myself.” He said, crossing his arms and slumping against the wall.
Martlet took pity on him and offered the half eaten burger.
“Nah, it’s fine. I ate enough today anyway.”
Alrighty then.
Well, if they couldn’t talk openly then all that could do was wait, she supposed.
Garrett sighed from across the cell.
Yeah. She felt that.
The sight of a full inventory of healing items filled you with a sense of security you hadn't had in a while.
After selling a Necklace and a bunch of other stuff, namely old armors and unused ammo types, you were absolutely flush with cash! And unlike the last place, Dina was happy to sell you plenty of high quality foods! You even had enough to buy some spares for your brother.
Speaking of…
You asked for two additional Ice Waters, for Martlet and your brother.
Dina blinked, “Your… brother? You mean, another human?”
You nodded, and explained that he was locked up and hadn’t had any water in a while.
Ceroba, who was listening in with North Star, turned to the sheriff, “Star… Why didn’t you mention a second human?”
“It didn’t come up.”
“Okay… why is he locked up?”
“Well, I had to lock him up! He’s dangerous!”
“Dangerous? What’d he do?”
“Well… he threw sand in Ed’s face, for one!”
“And what was Ed doing when he threw the sand?”
“... Grabbing Clover…” He wilted like a flower, like he’d already lost an argument that hadn’t started yet.
“A huh.”
“B-but that's not the only reason! He’s a no good dirty liar! He lied straight to our faces that he ‘n Clover wern’t human!”
“Was this before or after the sand?”
“... Before.”
“A huh…”
“A-and, and! He had some of the foulest language you ever heard! He was constantly spewin vile words the whole time we were with ‘im!”
“... So let me get this straight. First, you identified them as human, and he lied to convince you he wasn’t. Then, when you discovered his lie, you tried to kidnap his sibling, who is a child, and he threw sand at Ed. And then, when you successfully kidnapped his sibling, and captured him, he swore at you. Am I getting that right?”
“You’re uhh… missing a few steps.”
“Star… I’m sure you could imagine what I’d do if I were in that position, with my child.”
“Y-yeah… I could.” He seemed to be shrinking into himself.
“So you can imagine why I might feel strongly about this.”
…
…
“… I’ll go let em out…”
“You do that.”
Huh. Guess freeing your brother was easier than expected.
You slammed the door behind you and started sprinting, the cold evening air harsh against your flush face.
Down the path, through the gate, up the road to town. You've walked this path a thousand times before. You knew every step, bend and turn by heart.
One foot in front of the other, you carried yourself away from your home.
Your-
Your home.
You-
You couldn't go back.
If you had to spend one more fucking day in that fucking house with those goddamn people, you would burn it to the ground.
You couldn't go back.
You kept running.
You couldn't go back.
You kept running.
You kept running.
You kept running.
You-
You-
You couldn't breathe.
You kept running.
Your legs felt like they were on fire and you couldn't breathe.
You kept running.
Your vision was blurring and you couldn't breathe.
You kept running.
Your head was pounding and your heart was beating out of your chest and you-
You-
Something gave. You had to stop.
You found something solid and leaned against it.
A sob tore through you.
And another. And another after that.
You couldn't stop, you couldn't do anything. You were helpless to do anything to stop your breakdown.
It went on, and on, and on, and-
You came back to your senses with a gasp.
You were sitting against a rock you'd sat on many times before. It was halfway to town, so it was a good place to rest.
It was miles from home.
You took a deep breath.
In.
It hurt.
Then out.
That hurt more.
Your stomach grumbled.
It was getting dark.
How long had you been here? Just… sitting here, against the rock.
You weren't sleeping, you’d been awake the whole time. Just not… present.
You… you didn't know what that was. It had never happened to you before. It was like you just, shut off for a while.
You shivered as a cold breeze passed by, sending a chill through your whole body.
You hadn't noticed your body was numb until you started to feel sensations again.
You were cold.
You were really cold.
Your hands were shaking.
No wait, your everything was shaking. Shivering.
Another breeze passed, and you really wished you were wearing more than just a t-shirt and jeans.
You wish you'd grabbed anything before you left.
It was getting late, and dark, and cold, and you couldn't stay out here.
But you couldn't go home.
You couldn't.
You couldn't keep up.
You couldn't keep spending Every. Single. Day. Constantly cleaning up after helpless idiots. Managing mom's mood and dad's beer supplies and Clover's everything cause they can't do anything for themself and keeping everyone fed and doing the laundry and dishes and every night going to bed absolutely exhausted and waking up sore every morning and dragging yourself out of bed just to do it all again Every. Single. Day.
If you had to go back and live in that house, with those people, you would die.
You would rather die.
Just the thought of going back made your stomach twist and squeeze.
Hands shaking, you pulled your phone out of your pocket. The time read two hours till midnight.
You looked up from your phone. Where could you go? Where do kids go when they can’t go anywhere?
You looked back in the direction of your home. You couldn’t see it anymore. All you could see were the trees and Mt. Ebott peeking over them.
You-
The-
…
The mountain.
You looked at the mountain.
It… wasn’t that far. Not close either, but you could probably before midnight.
It-
Kids disappeared up there. They went up and never came back down.
You didn't have anything to come back to. And, well, you always wondered what was up there.
You looked at your phone.
And you looked back to the mountain.
You opened you phone, went to your contacts and started scrolling. If you couldn’t think of anything better-
There. A friend from school who didn't mind hanging out with the ‘crying lady's’ kid. He lived closer than any of your other friends.
Before you could think about what you were doing, you pressed the call button.
It only rang once before he picked up.
“Hello?”
You only got halfway through your greeting before you broke down into hacks and coughs. Your throat was still sore.
“Woah dude. You okay?”
You reassured him you were fine.
“Alright. So why the call?”
You… hadn't thought that far ahead.
There was a lot you could say.
‘I don't think I can live at my place anymore’
‘I need a place to stay for a while’
‘I don't know what to do’
“Hello? You still there?”
‘I'm scared’
‘I'm freezing to death and I need help’
‘I need help’
‘I need help’
‘Help me’
‘Please help me’
You asked if he was up for a surprise sleepover.
“Uh, what?”
You repeated yourself, a surprise sleepover, cause it had been a while since you two hung out.
“Uhh, I don't know dude. It's already pretty late. I don’t think my parents would be too happy about it.”
Another breeze-
You- You couldn't- You had to- You needed-
Desperately, you offered a deal. You’d do the dishes or rake the leaves or whatever his chores were if he could make this happen.
“Oh shit, really? Damn, alright. I'll take a little heat if it means I don't gotta clean the cat box. Get over here! Oh and uh, hope you don't mind leftovers.”
You were used to scavenging for food. If you could already stomach garbage burgers, you would happily take leftovers.
You said you'd be there soon, and hung up.
You forced yourself to stand up on wobbling legs that felt like jelly. Your head went fuzzy and your vision blurred for a moment.
When it passed, you looked to the road.
You put one foot forward. It hurt.
You put the other foot ahead of it. That one hurt too.
The pain was drowned out by the feeling of sheer relief. It was over, you weren't going back. It wasn't ever going to be that bad again.
One foot in front of the other. Just a little more distance between you and that house. Those people.
For the first time in your life, you weren't responsible for anyone or anything but yourself.
One foot in front of the other. It hurt just a little less with each step.
No more working yourself to exhaustion for people who couldn't even be bothered to even say thanks. From now on, you wouldn’t work for anything but actual, tangible rewards for your effort.
One foot in front of the other. You almost couldn't believe it. You were going to be okay.
You were going to be okay.
You.
Were going to be.
Okay.
It had been a week since the argument happened, and your brother left.
Wrappers and cans and bottles and boxes had started to fill every corner of every floor.
Everyone was running out of clean clothes to wear.
Your brother showed you how to make some basic meals, boiled eggs and noodles and grilled cheese, so you'd been feeding yourself for a while. But you ran out of ingredients for stuff you knew how to make, and you ran out of clean dishes that morning.
It was awful, and it was only going to get worse and everyone knew it. You and mommy and daddy all knew that your brother was the only one who would make it better. He always did.
But you weren't sure things would go back to normal, even if he came back. They were all really, REALLY mad this time.
You'd been in the other room when your brother and mommy were yelling, as you'd been told to do, so you didn't see what happened, when the fight ended.
One second they were all yelling at each other, your parents teaming up on your brother, and then suddenly everyone went quiet. Next thing you knew, your brother was running out the door and mommy ran upstairs crying and covering her face and daddy was yelling and saying he couldn't ever come back and -
Mommy had mostly stayed in her room since it happened, so you were surprised to see her in the living room as she left for another acting audition. She was wearing more makeup than usual, but it wasn't enough to hide the big purple bruise under her eye.
Daddy was drinking a lot more adult sodas and smoking more cigs then he usually did. You were running out of those, and he always got really mad when your brother didn't bring him more fast enough.
You were scared. Really scared. But you didn't cry. If there was one thing your brother made absolutely clear that you could not do in this house, it was cry. Because crying upset mommy and an upset mommy was everyone's problem, and whatever you wanted to get from crying she'd get it first. So you didn't cry.
You knew what your brother would do. He would be doing something. Cleaning or cooking or… something. He never stood still, always working on something.
You eyed the pile of dirty dishes. It seemed simple enough.
You got a stool to stand on, and grabbed a sponge, and started washing as best you could.
It was like your brother always said.
Someone had to do it. And if you didn't do it, it wouldn't get done.
So you'd do your best to fill his shoes. To keep the house from falling apart while he was gone. At least until he came back.
And he would come back. No matter how angry he was, he wouldn't leave you behind.
He wouldn't.
He wouldn't do that to you.