So here we are again. I must say it has become a pleasure, venting like this in letters I’m sure you will never see. Instead of sending them to you, I’ve taken to posting them online, in places you don’t know exists; although they are unlikely to have anyone seeing them, I’m still curious to see what happens if someone does.
You’re set on hurting my mother again. I can tell now by the way you walk; it’s faster than usual and if we had floorboards, you would definitely be stomping. I would love to inform you that you can no longer hurt her. The little war you started today, she won. You tried to take her down, using me against her, yet again, but she saw through your tactical ‘brilliance’ and came out on top, her laughter becoming intoxicating.
And now that she’s gone, you’re on to nibbling at me, expecting me to run and tell her the second I have the chance, but you forget I’m a writer by heart. I have these letters to vent into, and every slight against me is simply inspiration for the character based off you. There’s never really anything to say about you anymore. I summed it up in that last letter that you are horrible and toxic. But I can certainly say that my odds of getting out of here are looking better.
I have an acceptance into university, something I’ve aimed for since I was twelve, with the potential to study the course of my dreams; with the small amount of pay I received over Christmas, I got myself a very good bag that will fit my equipment for university as well as spare clothes and toiletries so that I can use the on-campus showers to avoid coming home. If I’m lucky, I may receive government funds and a scholarship, allowing me to move into a house with a friend who isn’t too far away from the campus, somewhere away from you. You do not know the address, or the suburb. I will be safe from you, but leaving my mother and brother at the hands of your callousness. This fact alone causes my hesitation. My mother is medicated and they work well enough even with you, but my brother is only four and can barely understand why nanny only plays with the other kids and not him.
That’s right. My four-year-old brother is able to see how much you hate our mother and by extension us; and I see it clear as day as well. You favour your granddaughter over your grandson, taking her to places despite her misbehaviour, that you conveniently overlook, and when we draw it to attention you divert ours and make it seem as though we villainise the little devil, blaming it all on my brother. He hates you, have you noticed? He does everything he can to not talk to you while our parents aren’t present. If there’s something he wants, I hear a little tap at my door, and even when you walk past you think nothing of it. He can’t articulate it, but I can: he hates you because of what he sees you do to him and our mother.
I’m enraged when you harm my mother, yet saddened that you could stoop so low as to harm a child who cannot process the actions nor the feelings. You do not listen to him, causing him to sulk off in tears because he can’t share something with his sister like he was so excited to do. That lack of listening also leads you to not see his side of the story when he and his cousin fight; you only see that he has hit her once, not that she had been punching and kicking him nonstop for that last 20 minutes because he doesn’t want to play the game she wants to play. And if I were to step in, you would scream that it’s not my place, leaving me powerless to defend my only sibling, the most joyous child in the world with the most caring heart. You are destroying a very kind and empathetic child because you refuse to listen. You hurt him near daily, yet my mother and I are powerless to prevent the hurt; we are unable to even explain it to him without causing a bias from our words.
How can I leave that behind? And you know that, don’t you? You know of my ‘bleeding heart’ and you use it to maintain control over how far and long I go from this place. Or perhaps that’s my paranoia. When it involves my brother, I don’t know anymore. When it involves him, I lose all rationality and articulation, my heart constricts and I struggle to breathe. I see him suffering similar to how I did as a child and I remain as powerless now as I was then.
I guess I would stay for him.
germansingergirl
stormborns
andulkaphoto
yousharknotpass
jacobvanloon
theartofmadeline
2087
prguitarman
gummygunk
baratheonpilled
