And hello, Theo. I was looking for you. They said you might be up here-
Shhh.... Shut up, Bi. Give me your hand now, close your eyes. Go on! Now step up. Hold on to the railing. Keep your eyes closed, don't peek.
I'm not...
Step up, alright. Hold on, hold on. Keep your eyes closed. Do you trust me?
I trust you, Theo...
....
I can tell you one thing, readers: sex can be nice. With the love of your life, nicer.
After years of painful, unsuccessful tries, even more.
And with the man who had stuck with you, even when it looked like everything was going to fall apart.
When you were sick, and crying, and losing hair, and possibly sterile, and cutting yourself to pieces, both body and soul.
After all that, it tastes even better.
....
And the third year was turning to its end, and I was finally getting back on track with my studies.
With the help of Theo, and my friends.
At home, things were slowly getting a little bit better.
It appeared, not seeing my father and his wife for most of the week, was tremendously helpful in our relationship.
For my younger siblings, unfortunately, the hell was still very much real: even though it had become more of a psychological, than a physical one.
It didn't hurt any less.
My brother, the older one, was now 17, and so was my sister.
He was taller than dad.
It was surely harder to physically harm him, than having their way with a 10-year-old child.
That doesn't mean they didn't look for any possible way to belittle them, undermine their self-esteem, offend them.
It was a constant commenting on how they looked, what they did, how they were doing in school. Even trying to set them one against the other.
A constant reminding them that they were not meant to touch the things inside of the house, that they were strangers inside of their own house.
Once, for instance, when I was in hospital.
Our "step-mom" never called me, never asked me how I was; of course, not that I was expecting it.
My older brother instead, came to visit me one day, and brought me a packet of biscuits I liked, to cheer me up.
She got mad at him, because he dared taking those biscuits from the house. "He should have asked"- he could have, but she would have said no.
And it was just a little packet of biscuits, anyway.
They had a supermarket around the corner, it was so easy to go and buy new ones: my brother probably hadn't got money for it, but she definitely did.
....
And yes, life was still like that, for my brother and my sister, in that house.
They hid their food in their rooms, to be able to eat.
When I went back on weekends, I often found their rooms dirty and messy. I would yell at them, and pick up a pair of plastic gloves, and a bunch of microfiber cloths, and got to work.
They would sulk and yell back at me, because it was "not my business".
I would yell some more.
I would check their rooms, their clothing, their school backpacks, how they were doing in school.
They would roll their eyes, and scoff through it all.
By Sunday evening, at least, they would be clean. Ready for another school week.
....
Back at Uni, I didn't have less to do: I had taking it upon myself, to finally clean Theo and Max's mouldy house.
I scrubbed that kitchen until it shined; and the sofa pillows and blankets came out of the washer a couple of shades lighter.
Theo laughed, and told me it wasn't needed.
But it was- I was basically living there, and the place smelled like mould, unwashed socks and old beers.
After I had cleaned it up, I really thought it was a palace.
YOU ARE READING
Let's hope for the best
Non-Fiction... but prepare for the worst. When I was a kid, I thought that life was going to be like a Disney movie. Then, alas, life happened. And I found out, I was not ready for it.
