True P.O.V

Let's just say, I had a rough night.

When I woke up, my back was very sore and my cuts on my stomach aching. Chris decided when I got home that I deserved to be punished correctly for yesterday, for the Bryan thing. He also told me that I'm no longer allowed pick my brother up anymore.

I know Bryan won't be happy about that but I wasn't going to back-talk Chris anytime soon, especially about picking Bryan up from something as simple as school. It just wasn't happening.

I pulled myself away from my rock-hard bed, the small thing it was, I had owned it since I was eight, so it was practically ancient. It also hurt my back, so there's that too.

I saw my shelf, which was above my door, which my siblings didn't know about, thank god. It held something very valuable to me, but worthless to my family . . . or anyone else at that matter. It held my childhood. Literally. It held everything I managed to keep from my youth.

My first photo, something I saved from a fire, surprisingly the burning of it was going to be an accident, I actually caught my mom crying about it being burned, she probably thought it was of Chris.

My first stuffed animal, something that was going to be sold, instead of, like other families, handed down to a younger offspring.

My first gun. I'm not even going to go into this one...

My first paycheck, with has never been banked.

My first report card.

My test A+ grade on a test.

My first poem, something compared to my today work, was actually quite pitiful.

My first book ever owned.

My last family photo, with all my siblings and parents. It was taken when I was 10, five years ago. Wow, I know, not really surprised either. Let my tell you, my father's smile was very fake. At the very young age of 10, he already considered me a failure and moved on to the next child, who at this case, had been Micheal.

I think they simply stopped caring. They stopped showing any good attention and started giving bad attention. I think they thrust there bad emotion's at me and expect me to take it.

I've taken it for this long. What's a little longer?

I keep a photo album of me, my friends, and even my family. Though they don't know about it, they don't think I care when I really do. They just never spare me much more than a passing glance with love. But they give me long glares of hate. It really is messed up how much they can hate one of there children and love the others.

I smile at the thought of that book. It truly filled me with warmth. Though those pictures held lies, they were pretty lies. Lies I wish were true.

That smile faded really quickly at the sound of my father's office, a room that was exactly below mine, slam open. My father's bellowing voice reached my ears.

"Chris!! Get down here now!" My father yelled. It was strange since I was used to being the one yelled at to come downstairs.

I took this moment to get ready for today, which was Monday. The highest suicide rate day, a day that make's almost everyone hates life a little bit more than usual. For some its a bridge for four more days of school, for me, it's four more days of hell. My bullies hate Monday's, which makes my life harder than usual.

I heard Chris's door pop open and the sound of my brother's feet against the hardwood of the floor outside my room and towards the stairs.

I bet they were going to talk about something to do with dad's 'job'. Something my brother would talk over, being the oldest. Mom and dad don't think I know about dad's job, none of my younger sibling's do.

I just happen to find out before Chris. I am a lot smarter than my older brother. I wasn't very old but you don't have to be. Just old enough to understand what the mafia was. I was 7.

I hear a faint bang of preteen girly music. Madisyn. I swear she lives to make my life hard even when she isn't trying.

Example #1: the music. That girl plays music at outrageous times of the day and night! I swear she has blasted Taylor Swift at 3:15 in the morning before. Twice.

Example #2: She leave's her make-up all over the house, I've nearly died walking up the stairs because I tripped on her bottle of mascara. I mean . . . What!? How the hell did she manage to drop it on the stairs?!? What was she doing that involved her and her makeup bag on the stairs? I swear she did that just to make me fall and die.

Example #3: She's a fuckin liar!She tell's mom, dad, Chris, anyone that listen's false lies about me. She once told Chris I stole money from him and oh, boy how he snapped. I had a very sore jaw for a couple weeks after that.

I walk over to my 'closet' and grab a white long sleeve shirt that would cover my injury on my stomach. I also grab some black skinny jeans that would hide my leg and it's cut thanks to a gang I know my brother has heard of.

If you have sinned, you should pay for them yourself, not let a gang punish your brother, me. I doubt my brother even knows his debt has been paid by me getting stabbed in the leg and stomach with glass.

I carefully open my bedroom door checking first for any of my family, other than Bryan. I was thankful to not see anyone in the hallway. Stuffing my phone in my pocket, I carefully slither out of my room.

I quietly walk down the stairs. I remember when I was little just running down the stairs like my younger siblings do now, I can't do that anymore.

I see Michael sitting at the bar in the kitchen, working on homework with his headphone on his head completely unaware of what was going on around him. Mom was cooking or attempting to cook, pancakes with Madisyn, both wearing large grins on his face. Bryan sat next to Michael playing on a tablet I've seen Michael on before. They all were unaware of me standing there, somewhat frozen in place. I wanted that. Oh, how I wanted that.

I quietly walked past them and towards the front door, no one noticing me or looking like they knew I existed. I frown at the dream scene. A single tear falls from my right eye. It crashes onto the floor, as I open the door. I walk out without looking back at the loving scene of my family. This is why people thought we 're a nice family. Because when I'm not around them, they generally are. The ideal family.

I close the door behind me, wanting nothing more than to fall to the ground and yell, "I give up!" But no matter how much I wanted to say those words, it wasn't true, not yet.

I hadn't taken 3 steps when the door opens behind me, causing me to jump and look back sharply, nearly causing whip-lash. In the doorway stood Bryan, my favorite sibling.

Bryan slipped his shoes on quickly, grabbed his backpack, and slammed the door behind him, not really caring whether the family heard or not. He lived his life so much easier than me.

He walked up to me, looking up and grinned at me. I felt my heart drop ever-slightly.

I turned away and continued walking. I knew my brother was confused by my lack of brotherly-love and affection. I usually said good morning and hugged him.

He stumbled over his feet to catch up. He attempted to hold my hand but I shook he away walking faster than before. I knew Chris would find out if I was hanging out with Bryan.

That was something else Chris had demanded. That I stay away from Bryan and that was the thing I knew would hurt Bryan the most.

I continued to walk over to where I had parked my bike. I wouldn't be taking Bryan to school, Chris would, whether Bryan knew it or not yet.

I walk up to my bike. Byran walking right behind me. Every second that passed made me feel like an even worse brother than the second before.

I climb onto my bike, Bryan trying to climb on after me. I stopped him. He looked at me confused.

I shake my head at him.

"Okay, what's up?!" He ask's yelling at me. I really want to cry.

"Nothing," I whisper. He was about to continue and ponder on me, but I simply turn my engine on, ignoring him completely and boy, it hurt me. I glance back at him one time before kicking off. Tears had sprung into my brother's eyes. He was rubbing them with his fist.

I kick off and drive away feeling like I had just broken my brother's heart, which I probably did because the last thing I heard was Bryan yelling, "I HATE YOU!!!"

I felt empty inside as I pulled up to store across from the school, the place I park my bike. Bryan hated me?

"I HATE YOU!!!"

"I HATE YOU!!!"

"I HATE YOU!!!"

I barely realized I was at my locker until I heard the speakers go off, startling me out of my thoughts.

"Student's we will be having a fire-drill at 10:15, all student's should be inside their classroom's at that designated time. Thank you." The lady in the office's who name always sweeps my mind, says into the microphone.

I open my locker quickly not wanting another episode like the one that just happened to happen again.

I pull out my books, paper, and a pencil and close my locker, turning right into someone I didn't want to see right now.

Union. Fucking. Graves.

That's fuckin fantastic.