Weight of the World {Kousei}
May 6, 2014 11:18:20 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on May 6, 2014 11:18:20 GMT -5
The half drank bottle of hard liquor that’s sitting in the middle of the room undoubtedly belongs to Russell. However, his bed is empty, and therefore, the small room we shared seemed more than deserted. The morning sun is not a welcome sight, not now, not ever. And so I roll back to the left, my face meeting the cold side of the worn pillow. I would be content to lay here for the rest of the day, but I knew that eventually someone would come pounding in, yelling about how I never did anything to help in this household. I would then proceed to roll myself out of bed and drag myself to my feet, the words they spoke only going in one ear and out the other. I didn’t care anymore; I never did. Of course, there were things I cared about: Russell, how many hidden bottles were left under the bed, and the matters of keeping the rest of the family alive. It didn’t matter how they were doing, just that they were still breathing. The responsibilities mainly fell to Russell and me, and to be honest with you, I’m not handling it well. Russell seems to be doing just fine, rolling with the punches like he always does, but I’m—I’m crumbling, each blow threatening to cause a rock slide that only ends with the destruction of myself or someone I love.
I don’t ever mean to hurt anyone, not when I punch Danny lightly in the shoulder in an attempt to get him to toughen up a bit, or Jason, when I tell him he’ll never get anywhere if he doesn’t start paying attention. I’m just looking out for them; I’m preparing them for what lays outside the worn, wooden door we all hide behind. But how can I reprimand them when I’m at just as much fault?
I see no reason to change out of the grey, cotton shirt that I slept in, so I smooth it out to the best of my ability and make my way slowly out of the room. The hallway is empty and dull, the only thing to be heard the rustling of restless kids behind shut doors. There’s the room that Charlie and Nora share, which is surprisingly quiet for once. Often Russell and I would put our ears to the wall and listen to their fights, most of them verbal and childish, but a few got out of hand, and we would proceed to storm into their room, pulling them apart and telling them to cool it. However, they never really listened, and more often than not our shouts would be masked over by protests of “she started it” and “it wasn’t my fault.” Russell and I would simply turn to each other and think the unspoken words of how the responsibilities fell on our shoulders.
Then there was the room that Maggie and Rachel shared, which was never loud and noisy. Both girls were quieter than was to be expected, their fights more of cold shoulders than bitter words. We never really bothered them, for they always took care of themselves, and for that, I was thankful (I’m sure Russell was too). At the very end of the hallway, there was a room that Jason and Danny shared, the door still standing with its rusty hinges and splintered frame. I would always go in there to check on them while Russell would finish up with Charlie and Nora, as he was much better at lecturing than I was. My reprimands consisted only of “don’t let me catch you fighting again,” which they ignored the second I left the room. However, Russell was convincing, telling of future punishments and guilt trips that were beyond even me. They always made me chuckle, however, because at one point Russell and I had used those very same guilt-ridden replies on each other. Eventually, both of us would feel so guilty that we’d drop all of our charges against the other and move on.
So I drown our Russell’s consequences and knock quietly on the boys’ door. There’s no reply, which doesn’t strike me as strange, so I gently turn the knob and cringe at the unflattering noise the door makes as it rocks back on its rusty hinges. My first glance around the room causes me to notice that Danny is nowhere to be found, which would set off an alarm in any of our heads. Danny was fragile, weak and scrawny with bones brittle enough to snap if you hugged him the wrong way. Jason seems to be preoccupied in something that isn’t me, so I clear my throat and lean against the frame of the door, hoping that his explanation for where our little brother has run off to is better than the tragic scenarios that are racing through my mind.
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