To Anyone Who Gives a Fuck

Tristian Mack

   Hi, do you remember me? Oh yeah, that's right, you don't give 2 fucks about me.
   My big brother, my protector. Definitely cared about me, never saw me in the halls getting beat on by your friends. Definitely didn't. Not like I noticed you looking at me.... You know, you could've  stopped them. But you didn't.
   I remember, when we were little. You actually cared about me, then. You used to stand up for me. You didn't care what people thought, as long as your little brother was happy. When did that change?  Why did it change?
   Remember my first attempt? I do. I remember how bad it got. I wasn't going to a school anymore. I stayed home, nobody knew that I was at home. Nobody noticed me. I didn't turn on the lights anymore. I kept everything dark. I would spend my days sleeping and I would stay awake at night. I could do anything at night. Nobody would notice the invisible ghost in the house. I slipped out, when I was bored. I would go to some random spot in the world and sit. I would stare at the sky and think of how stupid and irrelevant life is. How one person doesn't matter, unless they do something greater or worse than what the average one does. It's too hard to do something great, too cruel to do something evil. I remember that one time where you saw me crying. You just looked at me. It's not even the crying part that you were shocked at. I think it was the fact that my sleeves weren't covering my arms. You could see the pale wrists, covered in blood. I think that's what you were shocked at. We made eye contact. And you turned and walked down the hall.
   I went to the kitchen, that night, and took a big, freshly sharpened knife and stabbed it inside of me. I didn't scream, at first. Then, the pain hit. Oh, it was terrible. I will never forget it. I could feel my organs ripping. I whimpered, then let out a wet scream as I coughed up blood. You found me. My hair was matted, the blood was spread all over the kitchen floor. The light wood is still stained crimson. You shouted for mom and dad. You also called 911. I remember that you were crying. Saying: "Don't leave me. Don't leave me." Over and over again. I blacked out before the paramedics arrived... I woke up again when they were picking me up.. Oh. That was worse than the actual stabbing bit. I could feel my organs squeezing together as one of the paramedics lost their grip. That was terrible. Mom screamed when the lady dropped my legs. You pushed her out of the way and did it instead. I don't know why, it's not like we were close anymore. Dad didn't really do much. He just stood in the doorway, I will never forget his expression. It was one of confusion and shock... he also seemed relieved.
   I woke up in the hospital. You weren't there. Mom wasn't either. Neither was dad. That was proof that nobody cared. Nobody was there, except a man with a clipboard and a pen. He was wearing a light brown blazer with kakis. He sported a balding head and round glasses. His forehead had many creases and he was looking straight at me. I didn't realize it right away, but I had dry tears on my face. I don't know how long they were there for, but I was embarrassed. I tried to rub them away, but pain shot through me the second I moved my arm. I sucked in through my teeth, a fast inhale.
   "That's not a good idea. The doctor said to not let you move," the random guy told me.
   I didn't say anything to him. I felt shame. Shame knowing nobody would look at me the same, again. I thought about how the whole world knew. I also thought that maybe people would see how much they hurt me. I thought that they would feel the shame. The should feel the shame. I shouldn't feel bad at all. The guy interrupted my thought process.
   "You've missed a lot of school, I've been told. What were you doing?"
   How did he know? Who told him? Then I remembered, the school probably called. Nobody else knew about me skipping, nobody at home. At the time, I didn't realize it... but you knew. You would see me in the halls, at the same time, everyday. I would be being beat on by your friends. Then, one day, it stopped. You told him, I know now.

   The rando left. I fell back asleep, in a realm of dreamless sleep. Peace. I wondered if that was death was like, I longed for it even more.
   You walked in with mom and woke me up. It was just the presence of you there that did so. You weren't loud. I looked over at you, and then quickly back down. Shame.
Look what you did- depression was talking
They all hate you more now. What if they kick you out?- anxiety got going, too.
Hahaha. You can't move. You can't move. Youcan'tmove.- ADD also decided to perk up.
   I'm remembering how you looked at me. There was no love. Your eyes were gray. Mr.Perfect: dirty-blond haired, big and strong, a ladies man... but, wait.. who's his brother, again? Didn't he stab himself? Isn't he crazy? Isn't he a fag? He's a freak, right?
   Mom didn't talk, neither did you- for awhile. It was an uncomfortable silence for the first 5 minutes. It was comforting by the 10th. Then you had to break it.
   "Do you have any idea how much pain you put us through?! How expensive you are?! How embarrassing you are?!"
   Mom looked up, she smacked you. "Tristian," she hissed.
   I could feel my face getting hot. A lump in my through. You did that to me.
   "I wish that you we never born," you threw at me, coolly.
   That's when I tore, just a bit more. I started to silently cry. It wasn't obvious, but I felt like a red dot on a white board. I felt my hands curl into right fists. Doing that hurt, a lot.
   You kept going, not noticing, like always. "What makes you think that I give a fuck?! Why did you do it in the kitchen?! Were you looking for attention?! If you really wanted to kill yourself, you would've done it outside- where we couldn't hear you."
   Mom was shocked, all she said was: "Tristian! Enough!"
   I was crying, still. God, I'm so weak. So useless. I'm worthless. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!
   I did something that I now regret, I told you how I felt. "Well I'm sor-ry that I'm such an embarrassment! Why do you think I tried to off myself?! I know I didn't do it because I thought I was good for anything! I'm worthless! I'm nothing! I'm stupid! I hate myself! Do you hear that?! I HATE myself! And if that's not enough, I know how you can see me when I'm being beat. Yeah, I see you when you're looking at me. I see you through my swollen eyes! Your  friends- your friends- all are laughing, afterwards! They all think it's hilarious to beat on me! Do you think it's funny, too?! Huh?! Is it funny now?! Is it funny now, Tristian?!" I'm still crying, and I know that you saw my tears. Don't tell me otherwise.
   You stayed quiet. You looked down. Embarrassed. Not at yourself. But at me. I could feel it. Everyone was embarrassed at me.
   I was crying, at this point. I wasn't completely silent anymore, either. It was terrible. It was embarrassing.
   You look up. "What about that video?"
   I knew exactly what you were talking about. Oh God, I didn't think I could be anymore embarrassed. I wanted to jump through that hospital window, right there and then. "I don't know what you're talking about."
   You smirked. Evil. "I think you do. Do I need to show you?"
   I inhaled. "No."
   "Who was it, Xavier? Who was it?"
   ..... embarrassing. "Mark Freeberg."
You recoiled. "What?" You were really mad.
I stayed quiet. Looking down.
"I'm going to beat him. I'm going to kill him," it wasn't anger. It was fury.
I remember spitting something out. Something stupid. "I- I didn't know what he was doing. I didn't realize anything. He got me super wasted. I didn't realize. I didn't know that he was going to- to..." I stopped.
"Neither did I."
What? What did you say to me, again? Oh.. yeah. I remember. You said: "He told the guys and I that he was going to invite you over for a 'prank'... I thought it was harmless.."
You didn't protect me. I didn't respond.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know. I didn't know what he was going to do to you...."
"I didn't like it. I didn't consent to it. I don't know if I said 'no'... but I didn't give consent," I buried my face.
Your face went from furious to shocked and pale. "You mean... He raped you?"
I was shocked. I didn't see it as that. "He's over 18? I- I had no idea.... he.. he..." I remember the flashbacks, they were violent... they were of him holding me down. I felt terror.
You must've noticed, for the first time. "Are you okay? Do you need water?"
I ignored the water question. "He.. he did.. I remembered something.."
Mom looked like a ghost. You stood, you seemed very tall at that moment.. I guess, you are tall... you're taller than me, anyway. "What? What do you remember?"
I looked up, slightly. "I remember him holding me down... my arms were.. flailing and scratching him." I was crying at this point, do you remember? The trauma was hitting me. Hard.
You did something next, that shocked me.. You hugged me. Me, who you just told you wish I wasn't born. Me, who selfishly tried to kill myself. Me, who is horrible and unworthy of anything. I started to sob. It touched and hurt me. I felt safe.. it was.. something I'd never felt before.
"We have to go to the police," mom finally spoke up.
I was terrified. "No! No! We can't uphold that! Dad- Dad'll.. he'll- No!" We stopped hugging.
"She's right... we have to turn him in. What he did to you... that's not okay. Can't you see that, Xavier? He posted a video of him raping you, online! The whole school saw! Teachers saw it, colleges saw it! Mom and dad saw it! What he did is illegal, and you're the one being punished.."
I was done crying.. I felt like it though. God, I'm so weak. You probably think I'm weak, too. I'm stupid, I wasn't able to protect myself.
"No," we ended up not going to the police.

I went through months on recovery... it was terrible. I had to go to physical therapy and I had to talk to a stupid counselor. I wasn't given meds for the pain.. because I might've overdosed. I remember you arguing with the doctor over that.
I'm sorry all of your work that you put into me went to waste. I also haven't remembered any of this stuff for a long time. My tone was harsh in the beginning of this, sorry. I have forgotten what a good older brother you are. Don't blame yourself, but you should've stopped your friends. However, you can't stop everyone. I still would've probably killed myself, anyway. Oh, that's right. I haven't told you yet.. I'm dead. I'm hanging in my room, my wrists are slit. I have a pool of blood below me and I'm dead. I hung myself and slit my wrists. Go check, if you haven't seen yet. Goodbye, I'm sorry for being a burden.