I sat on the seat and stared at the glass. I tapped it, once, twice, three times; it matched my the beat of my heart which was going wild in my chest.
It felt as if my bones were the only thing keeping it restrained, keeping it from bursting out of my chest and fleeing before the bare thought of monster that was my brother.
He was wearing a fluorescent orange shirt and denim jeans with worn out all-black converse. His feet scuffed along the ground, and he looked miserable; the bruise in the middle of his forehead darkened his face and made his features all the more forlorn-looking.
Yet when he saw me, his eyes lit up in a smirk and I saw a layer of confidence wash over his face.
He knew he had power over me.
Undeniable power that made my heart go wild, my breaths grow ragged and my palms become clammy.
The guard that was walking with him seemed to see his change in demeanour; he raised a suspicious eyebrow and pushed him down into the chair opposite me.
He grinned at me. "Sister. How nice of you to visit." His tone was civil, but also measured. His eyes however gave much away; he was angry.
"Yes." I attempted to steady my voice, but failed. It shook slightly, enough for it to register with Marcel. His grin widened.
I took another breath. "Did you tell Tim's sister that I also hurt you?"
"I did." Marcel said.
My eyes widened and my voice got louder. "But it isn't true! My whole life I have been abused by you and unable to help myself and you say I hurt you!"
He looked at me thoughtfully. "Dad liked me best."
I lowered my gaze to my feet, tears pricking my eyes. "Everyone liked you best."
He smirked, chuckling. "True."
"Why did you tell her that?" I said after a while.
"Haven't you maybe figured it out yet that I like hurting you?" His eyes blazed with satisfaction and he leaned forward. "I like to hurt you because you're so..." He paused, searching for the right word. "Hurtable."
I took in a sharp intake of breath. I knew I was broken, knew I was fragile and frail and weak and unstable. It wasn't a surprise, but it still stung.
"But it isn't true, is it? I never hurt you." Surprisingly, my voice came out steady.
"Of course it isn't true. You never had the chance or the strength to hurt me." He sounded triumphant.
I tapped the stop button on the tiny video camera that hung as a pendant around my neck. "Thank you, brother. Now I can get the one person who does love me back."
The triumphant look vanished as I stood and left, yanking the camera from my neck and shoving it deep into my bag. I grabbed a tissue and wiped away my tears, running back to the apartment.
To see Tim.
_
Shes a clever one ^.^ comment your thoughts below!