Eret's Cousin (Phil's Kid universe)

Ch-9-Memory-?

. . .

New story triggers:
Arguing
Mentioned violence
Mentioned abuse
And overall bad parenting

. . .

I don't remember what happened that day. I only remember the bad parts of that day. It was mine and Lindsey's birthday, and we were watching a movie in the living room. Apparently, I did something causing me to get in trouble. So I got sent to my room while my family finished the rest of the movie. Great birthday.

Everything was fine the next day. Except I was grounded all the next day and couldn't finish the movie I missed out on.

. . .

"Why not go outside? There's a playground nearby we can go to. There are even swings there." Mom suggests to us. "Are there two?" My seven-year-old twin asks. "Two?" Mom asked confused. "Yeah." I said understanding what my twin meant. "Two swings. So we can swing together." I say hoping there are two swings.

"Oh don't worry, there are four swings." Mom smiled at us putting on a jacket. "We don't need four." Lindsey frowns. "You can make friends." Mom suggests. "I have Robbin!" Lindsey says grabbing my hand.

Mom stares at us for a bit then sighs. "Sure, you can use two swings there. Let's go." She smiles again. "Yay!" Me and Lindsey say excitedly.

.   .   .

"Look at me!" Mom yells causing us to look at her. I was so confused. Were we supposed to know something?

"So why did you let that girl hit her with a stick?!" What? Did someone get hurt? Why? When? Today? When? While we were at the park? Why didn't me and Lindsey know?

"So?! Why did you let her get hit?!" "I-I didn't know." I said with tears in my eyes. I was trying not to cry. I was upset that mom was yelling at us.

"Why are you lying?!" Mom yelled grabbing a wooden spatula out of a vase on the kitchen counter next to her. "Don't lie!"

"B-b-because we didn't know, w-we didn't know she was there, a-and w-we didn't see i-i-i-it." Lindsey said I glanced at her and saw some tears falling out of her eyes. I then felt tears falling down my cheeks too.

"Stop lying!" "W-were not." Lindsey said hiccuping. "I won't stop till you admit it and tell me the truth!" She held up the wooden spoon.

The next day mom just kept reminding us that we were grounded for a while. And that we should spend all of our new free time thinking about what we did. Me and Lindsey just played with toys instead.

.   .   .

"Lindsey, you made cookies?" I asked Lindsey when I walked into the kitchen. Lindsey was taking a tray of cookies out of the oven and placing them on the stovetop.

Lindsey looked at me and smiled. "Yeah, dad helped a bit, but I just followed the recipe. Want to try one when they've cooled down a bit?" Lindsey asked nervously. "Yes, of course. They smell so good."

. . .

"What's that smell?" Mom said annoyed walking into the kitchen. Me, Lindsey, and dad were sat at the table eating the cookies Lindsey made. "Lindsey made cookies, you should try one." I said taking a bit out of the delicious cookie I held in my hand.

"Sure." Mom said and say next to dad to eat a cookie. We all waited in silane as mom tried her cookie. "It's a bit dry." Mom said after she took a bite. She played the rest of the cookies back on the plate.

When mom left I looked at Lindsey and saw she was upset. Dad took the rest of mom's cookie and ate it. "She just got a slightly overcooked cookie." Dad said. "I like em." "Me too." I smiled at Lindsey. She looked at it and gave a half smile back. "Thanks."

. . .

"Why would you let her waste all those ingredients?" Mom asked frustrated. I stopped at the door to mom and dads room. Lindsey was asleep in our room so mom was talking to dad.

"It was one batch." I could hear dad say. "I was going to make some cookies, she just wanted to help." "Let her help?" Mom snapped. "If she was just helping then they wouldn't have been so dry." "That was probably just your cookie." "What are we supposed to do with the rest of the cookies?" "Eat them. Me, Robin, and Lindsey like them." "They're not even as good as your cookies, not even close." "She can learn." "That's such a waste of food."

. . .

I never planned on bringing up any of those bad memories again. I never planned on talking about it. Never hinting at it. I did want people to know how bad of a sister I was-am. I still haven't mentioned it in any way. Instead, I still suffer from that memory in silence.

It's been years, and sometimes when bad memories randomly enter my head, I still fear my mom.

I guess now you can say I have mentioned it once.

.   .   .

"Sometimes I think she does everything on purpose, then she acts nice, does something nice, so I feel bad for thinking these things." Talking about it suddenly makes me feel a bit upset. "Then it's like the whole cycle repeats over again, every time."

It was quiet. The call was quiet. Eret's side of the call was silent. My side of the call was silent. I could hear a few sniffles, oh wait, that was me, trying not to cry. Why did I have tears in my eyes? Is it because I feel guilty for sharing it? Maybe I should have told Lindsey first.

"People tend to remember bad memory more often than good ones. I'm sorry that happened. I should have checked in more often." I wanted to correct Eret, tell them that it wasn't their fault, but I couldn't. I knew that if I spoke I might actually start to cry. Eret continued right after. "But maybe you-we can try to get you some new more happy memories. A lot of bad has happened recently. You need a break, from everything."

"So be ready to leave this weekend, and let's have a fun time."

.   .   .