Prehalia's Demons(Completed) I #Wattys2019

10 I JEAN-JACQUES

Jean-Jacques is somebody that I don't remember clearly as I was really young when he passed away, but his death became a new chapter in the family history which I gradually began to realize was the mere start of our darkest times.

I was such a happy child back then, in the beginning of the storm, except for the few moments of aggression when I had with my mother's instability.

But that was alright.

I had my friends, I had money, I had nothing to be scared of. I was safe under the name Samuels and I knew I could do anything and receive no consequences to my actions.

Then, when I turned eight, my mother came home leading a small boy with disheveled hair and eyes that I don't remember the color of and presented him to me and Jess by the name of Jean-Jacques. She told us ever so cheery that this right there was our bigger brother and we had to take good care of him from then on.

I remember scanning the kid's face. He was definitely skinny and was already tall for his age. His high cheekbones were casting shadows onto his jaw and his entire presence reminded me of my mother's. He stood straight and proud in front of us, as if he wasn't an orphan but a royalty. Who knows? He might've been a royalty, indeed.

He didn't usually say much, he would simply came sit with us, as we would play with our major collection of barbies on the floor. He would ask us if it would be okay to play with the dolls as well. We would both agree, even though our play time would always end up being awkward and stiff.

I studied the boy every day. He did the same things at the same time: He would wake up at 7:30, go for breakfast, be driven to school, come back home, ask us to play with the barbies and by 9:00 pm he would be in bed.

And then one morning, he lost one of his lives in his sleep. My mom got him a doctor and the man, Mr. Shlutz, said that Jean was weak and this sudden lifeloss probably wasn't going to be a one time thing at that rate.

We all hoped and prayed that this was a mistake. I was even planning on buying my stepbrother a new doll only for himself.

My mom hid Jean. There was no way that she would let her child go to a lower city. She's Elisa Samuels, she can do what she wants. The laws don't apply to this family. They never have. They never will.

So Jean-Jacques continued on being a part of us. He loved my mother more than me and Jess together. He cherished her and didn't care if she screamed at him. I could see it in his eyes, that adoration and awe whenever Elisa was around. In a way, it felt creepy and unexplainable to me; the fact that even my mother is a person deserving of love in his eyes.

Consequentially, Elisa started getting more and more attached to him, as well, to the point where me and Jessica stopped existing permanently. He became her son, the heir, the one to make her proud and we were just the pretty girls to marry off to other rich families in the future.

Jean lost seven of his lives in two months.

Destiny obviously hated him because the Grim Reaper became my older brother's best friend.

He stopped playing with us at one point because he was too weak to do so. He started skipping school and staying in bed for the day and my mother didn't seem to care. The way she looked at him...that absolute dedication made him appear more dear than the most expensive precious stone on Earth.

Even Elisa Samuels has a heart, I realized then at the early age of eight. She has a heart but not for me and not for Jessica.

And just like any other child, as time progressed and Jean's health became worse and worse, mother stopped paying me and Jess attention at all, and that made me envious. That made both of us feel worthless and unwanted, which wasn't far from the truth but was devastating for a child's sanity.

We didn't have time to learn to love Jean but we wanted to and our mother deprived us from doing so by completely shutting us off and shoving us away from him at any moment possible. She made sure that we felt inferior to the sickly boy. And we did.

One night, when Jean was already at his last life, me and Jessica sneaked into his room.

"Who is it?" I heard him croak out.

"It's Keely." My eight-year-old self replied. The tops of my cheeks were red and feverish with the sensation of overstepping my boundaries and ignoring my mother's orders.

"And Jess." I felt a hand on my shoulder and it only made me sweat even more. The presence of my sister made this all the more real.
When I gave her a look, though, she seemed to be coping pretty well.

"Oh, hi." He got up from his bed into a sitting position with so much effort that it broke a small part of my heart.

When we didn't say anything, he looked out of his window, the moonlight making his black hair look almost blue. He seemed like a son of our mother more than me and Jessica did.

"Why are you suddenly interested in me?" He finally broke the silence. "Are you being jealous?"

Me and Jess gave each other a frightened glance. We were indeed jealous but seeing the boy in the state that he was, we felt bad to admit to something like this. I started fiddling with my fingers, pleading my face to stop getting hotter and hotter with every second that was passing.

When Jess looked at her feet, I decided that it was not fair for us to lie to him so I gazed straight in those forgotten eyes and answered. "Yes."

He smiled weakly at me and replied with something that would forever stay in my mind. "I'll be dead soon, so please, let me borrow her love for a while."

Her love. My mother's love.

I didn't know how to react so I just went to him and hugged him lightly. I was scared he would break under my touch. He was two years older but felt so fragile. "I wish I could promise you that, but I can't Jean. I'm my mother's child too." He didn't try to hug me back but it was okay. I didn't blame him.

I blamed myself for being selfish.

I blamed myself for wanting to steal away the love that a dying boy craved so much.

I blamed myself for thinking that wanting my mother's love was my right.

It was then I realized that I had given a piece of my heart to Jean, as well.

The next morning he had complications and was sent to hospital. Elisa returned later that day only to tell me and Jess that Jean-Jacques had passed away.

It was the first and last time I saw my mother cry real tears. And it was the only time that she showed me and my sister warmth.

The three of us cried together.

For a lost son and a lost brother. For the 'What if's that were never to be answered.