Final Piece- Draft 1

"I am moving to the North Pole and there isn’t anything you can do about it,” I yelled to my older brother, Terable.

“All I’ve done for you after mom and dad passed away and THIS is how you repay me? By moving to become some bullshit teacher and marry some dude I’ve never met?” Terable ranted.

I rolled my eyes; the internal heat had leveled to my head, making my hulk-like veins pop from my neck up.

“I’m tired of this. I won’t argue. I’m just gonna pack my stuff and leave now,” I said.

“Where the hell are you gonna stay until you sort out your big rewarding trip?” Terable asked. I didn’t answer, but just turned my back to head towards the room. As I entered my clothing cluttered room, I stared up at the ceiling. I noticed, once again, the small indigo blue stars painted against the off white walls. When Terable was only fifteen, and I was thirteen, we took on our wildest imaginations together.

“Ana, why don’t we put stars up there?” he asked, “So whenever we look up at night, we remember that angels are looking down, and we won’t get scared of the world outside.”

“Yeah! And we can show mom and dad when they get home,” I had said. A few moments later, our aunt had shaken the keys, indicating she was coming in. With tear-filled eyes, our aunt clenched her fists. Her knees withered and she looked as though the air was knocked out her lungs, she fell to the stained carpet.

“Kids, something…happened,” she paused and gasped for air through her soaked translucent skin. “Mom and dad…got into a car crash.”

And that was when it changed, my life spiraled in a different direction. The tender taste of sprinkled happiness ripped from under my feet. I had lost my parents, the only two people who ever supported my growing ambition to make something great out of people just like me.

I moved my eyes swiftly from the stars to the clock, 9:00 pm. My goodness is it that late already? I better call Engle now. When I reached for my iPhone, which usually sat on my bed, I didn’t see the bright blue phone case. Oh my goodness, please don’t tell me he went that low, I thought.

“Terable!! Dude, just hand over my phone,” I said.

“You can’t leave this house without it, though,” he replied with a proud smirk.

“I paid for that phone; you have no control over it,” I let out a deep, heavy sigh. I walked closer to my big brother, slowly glaring him up and down. Eyes locked, I whispered, “Terable, you can’t keep that phone locked in your palm forever.”

“What makes you think I can’t?” he asked. “I’ve held onto it for years.”

“Eventually, you’re gonna have to put it down. People are gonna call, send messages in and out, and you’re gonna feel helpless when you can’t respond,” I told him. His eyes dropped to the floor, I saw the perspiration drip down his temples as he thought about what to do next.

Getting serious once again, Terable did not hand me the phone. Instead, he kicked forward, dashing into the room where he took apart the bags I had packed. He quickly got a hold of the clothes and flicked them in the air as though they were papers of work on the last day of school before the summer vacation. I, still standing in my position in the living room, started to turn around and head towards my room. As my footsteps led my path, I thought of when we were growing up, and how much I loved Christmas with my parents. The wood toasting into a fine mixture of tall red, orange, and yellow glow, illuminating the entire living room, and the sweet smell of pine cone swam through our nostrils as we cuddled on the carpet. Still walking towards the room, one foot in front of the other, I pictured how my brother and I used to lay on the carpet and draw in our Rudolph coloring books. We’d color Santa’s rosy cheeks, and put frosty glass snowflakes on the evergreen Christmas tree. When my last step directed me into the room where Terable was destroying my packed bags, reality hit me.

“Terable!! I’m not dealing with this anymore. Go ahead, tear up my shit. I’m leaving without it. Keep my phone, keep my clothes, that’s what you’ll have to remember me by,” I yelled. My face was an apple, and my stomach flipped over thinking about what I had just said, basically promising to never see my brother again. Whatever, he deserves it, I thought. I rapidly snatched my leather jacket from off the chair and threw it on as I slammed the door behind me.

Behind the door, I stayed in place. My feet were glued to the ground, although I wanted to leave him, I wasn’t sure if storming out was the best way. Just go, he won’t change. He’s still gonna try to control you again if he sees you out here, I thought to myself. Ugh, I know. But, I don’t want him to be alone and worried about where I’m at. I don’t even have a phone. I sat in the staircase, wondering what I should do. I didn’t want to feed into his manipulation and end up staying. I have goals, and I intend to get married to Engle and move with him to the most Christmas-oriented location. Okay, just go in and calmly explain to him why you need to move. Maybe this time, without an argument, he’ll understand, I though. I got up and headed towards the burgundy red door. As I turned the key in the lock, I heard silence from inside. Why don’t I hear him banging on walls and throwing glass? I smiled to myself, thinking about Terable’s methods of coping with his anger. I always made fun of him when he caught his fits.

As I opened the door, I wondered why he didn’t greet me. “Maybe he needs some time to cool down by himself before talking to me,” I said under my breath. I walked into my room, what a mess, I better start cleaning up all these clothes. When I picked up a towel, the thumping from inside my chest increased. The air filled inside me until I could no longer intake any more; blood, lots of it. The puddles around my feet come into view, my panther instinct jolted across the room to look for my brother. There, next to the opposite side of the bed, he lied. With his front side up, I saw the slit going from one side of his neck all the way across. I stared. I began to jerk and I felt as though my internal organs were hot potatoes, dying to jump out of my body. I bent over him and touched his soft hand. After kissing his forehead and closing his eyes for him, I picked up my phone and dialed 911.

“Hello? Yes… I’d like to report a…suicide,” the warmth of the tears racing down my face brought back a familiar feeling. I tore the last of my family apart.