Sundrop

Where Art Thou, Brother?

It's evident of the animosity I have towards my biological mother. Her merciless, inhuman disposition makes it impossible to not resent her. The first time I recall being locked down in the basement was at the age of seven.

***

We were all seated around our kitchen table, while Cosette was teaching us mathematics. My brother, whom is three years older than myself, easily surpassed me in every subject. Every since I can remember, we've been home schooled. In fact, I've never seen any other child, other than my own brother. My brother and I were taught on the same level, at the same pace, and we were expected to achieve the same learning skills.

"My dear, Sundrop." At this age, I didn't notice Cosette's execrable tone when she spoke my name. I turned my small head to give her my full attention. "What's eighty-eight divided by nine?"

Cosette taught us methods to figuring out solving a division problem, which doesn't result in a whole number. We used no calculators or pencil and paper. We were presumed to know all the basics of mathematics at a very young age. My seven year old self didn't mind, I loved the challenge.

"Nine." I answered, very sure of my response.

"Wrong." The word escaped mother's exsiccated mouth.

My brother's eyes widen in genuine worry for me because he knew a punishment would follow for my incorrect answer. I smiled to assure him that I would be just fine. The small gesture rubbed Cosette the wrong way and she took it as rebellious act.

"You're smiling, Sundrop." Her voice dripped with intoxicating sweetness. "Well, we'll just have to change that."

I feel a warm hand wrap around my small one and I looked up to see my brother's concerned eyes. Cosette's firm hand came down brutally against the back of his head. He dropped to the kitchen floor heavily, but recovers quickly. He knew laying on the ground any longer would resort in more vicious strikes.

Suddenly, mother's cold, massive hand wrapped around the back of my tiny neck. With force, she dragged me down the stairs leading to the basement.

"Diggory!" Fear for my brother hits me as she shouted my brother's name.

He came sprinting down the staircase at Cosette's call. He stood stiffly beside our mother, like a soldier waiting for orders by a war Sargent. I watched in horror as Cosette takes her belt off from around her pants. My brother would have to endure another painful beating by her hand.

"Beat her." She handed the thick, leather belt in Diggory's hands. He looks between the belt and I with a conflicted expression.

"Do it." Cosette urges calmly. Diggory didn't move an inch and kept his place. "Beat her now!" Mother's voice gave out as her voice reached volume we're unuse to. Even in her most furious state, she'd always remained a collected tone. "Beat her or I'll beat you."

Without warning, the hot leather clashes on my tender skin. My seven year old self admired my brother. He was the one who would comfort me after Cosette bruised me. He was the one who would embrace me as I cry at night. He was the one who would remind me to keep smiling daily. He was the one who took his beatings bravely to show me everything was all right. My brother, he was the one who was beating me.

I felt betrayed that he would deliberately bring affliction to me. At that moment, I realized Diggory was just as scared as I was. And just as pitiful.

***

Yes, I might hate my mother, but I know what I'm getting with her. But Diggory was the center of my admiration and he betrayed my allegiance, which makes my hatred towards him worse.

"Sundrop." I sit with my back to the deceitful traitor. I heard his identified footsteps when he crept down the stairs. As usual, I choose to ignore his presence because he doesn't deserve my acknowledgement. "Please, don't ignore me."

I turn around to see his hopeful face at my actions. His face quickly drops when I realizes I'm still not going to speak to him.

"At least you're looking at me now. I'll take it." Diggory unlocks the cage, giving me washed clothes, bucket of water, soap, and a rag. He re-locks me inside the captivity and turns his back, giving me privacy as I wash. Diggory is the only one who brings me fresh clothes and allows me to clean. Cosette and Mahli alternate the chore of feeding me. I'm more like the house pet instead of a family member, except I receive less love and affection than an pet.

I strip down naked, placing the rag in the warm water. Secretly, I'm thankful that Diggory didn't bring me freezing water. I rub the soaked rag over my dull body, relaxing under the sensation. I scrub the soap briskly over myself as I watch Diggory's broad back. He's never peaked before, but it's better safe than sorry.

"Hey, sis." I go still at him recognizing me as his sister. He's never greeted me with 'sister', 'sis', or 'sissy' since we were kids.

"Yeah?" I silently curse myself because I replied to him unintentionally.

"I want to give you a warning." I hurriedly rinse my skin from soap residue and get dressed in the plain clothes provided.

"I'm dressed." Diggory slowly turns to face me with the same conflicted expression he had when he first beat me as children. It resurfaces the same feeling of betrayal I felt.

"I can't give you the warning." His forehead rests against the solid bars as he down casts his eyes towards the stained ground.

"Then why say anything in the first place?"

His eyes level with mine, searching my face to desperately understand. But I don't understand. I don't understand how he can let his only sister rot to death in our house basement. I don't understand how he still finds it in his heart to love our mother. I don't understand how he thinks he has he right to still claim me as his sister. We are nothing. He's nothing to me. I'm nothing. No, I don't understand, it's incomprehensible.

"Because me saying I want to give you a warning is equivalent to giving you an actual warning." He explains. We stare at each other in silence, examining and judging one another. He doesn't see why I can't be a 'good' girl and obey Cosette; I don't see how he can be the 'perfect' son and follow her every demand.

"See you later, sister." He emphasizes the word 'sister' as if he's trying to remind me of our kinship.

I've grown envious over his freed body. He's allowed to leave the perimeter of this hell. He has a life beyond this little world while I wither in the basement. I'm jealous of the people he has met, the places he has seen, and the things he has done. He's experienced more than what lies behind these damnable bars.