Chapter 1
Alexander
They say you don’t remember things from when you were little.
They obviously never got slapped because they didn’t mean to wet themselves while they were sleeping.
The moment my little sister, Annabelle, was placed in my arms, I felt something inside me constrict.
I made a vow right then and there that I was going to be the best big brother this world had ever seen.
It’s sad that when you're little, you don’t realize the harm that’s in this world.
And before you know it... it’s too late to do anything about it.
Age 7
Annabelle was crying.
She was hungry.
Mommy was still in bed nursing her bruises.
I was trying to make her something to eat and didn’t mean to overpour the milk into her bowl of cereal.
Just as I did that, he walked in.
I bit the inside of my cheek so hard that I tasted blood.
I stepped in front of Annabelle and glared up at him.
He laughed.
Then he struck me.
She cried even harder.
Age 9
“I’m sorry, baby. I can’t cook tonight,” my mommy said.
I nodded, “It’s okay. I’ll do it.”
Daddy sneered at the grilled cheese and tomato soup.
I got backhanded for not putting a better meal on the table.
Age 11
“Bubby?” I heard.
I lifted my head, then I smiled, “Hey, belly. Come on.”
I lifted the covers just in time for her to vault in beside me, curl up, and sigh.
I grinned.
“Story time?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived this princess who was the belle of every ball she went to. And one day, the dragon that lived high up in the mountain had had enough of being told where he could go and what he could do. So, he flew up and out of his mountain and flapped his wings hard to make it to the nearby village.”
She giggled.
“The dragon flew over the village, causing everyone to scream in a panic. But the princess didn’t scream. No, she looked at her brother, the prince, and smiled. So, the prince drew his sword, stood in front of the princess, and said, ‘Come and get me, you overgrown lizard.’”
Annabelle giggled even louder.
“She realized that the only person she could count on was her brother,” I finished as she closed her eyes and sighed again.
Sadly, the dreams and wishes of a nine-year-old... of this nine-year-old, didn’t come true.
Age 11
I shielded Annabelle’s eyes as we walked into the house.
That wasn’t our mother who was bent over the couch with Daddy behind her.
Age 13
I let one single tear trail down my cheek at the loss of the woman who was our mother.
And then I nodded.
She wouldn’t have any more bruises.
She wouldn’t have any more broken bones.
She wouldn’t have any more bloody noses.
She wouldn’t have to force a smile and tell us everything was going to be alright.
I looked at my father, who was smirking down at her coffin as they covered her with the first layer of dirt.
Age 15
Sadly, I hadn’t only lost my mother that day.
No, I started to slowly lose my Annabelle as she was becoming drawn into herself.
Staying in her room.
Not talking.
Only wearing black.
And wearing full-covering clothing.
It took me too long to figure out why.
Until she seemed to flip the script.
Age 16
She was acting out again.
I didn’t know what to do.
Until that day, on the morning of my eighteenth birthday.
Age 18
Her sobs...
I bolted into the house.
Her bedroom door was closed.
Locked.
I kicked it open.
He was on top of her.
I. Saw. Red.