When you wake up and your body is sore like you went to the gym, but it’s actually just that your brother tried to unalive you yesterday because you touched his laundry. In his defense, he has diagnosed schizo affective disorder but a history of RARELY being paranoid with anyone but strangers. I’m the only family member he has an actual history of treating like dirt. It’s been so long like this that it’s normal in our family and I STILL never would have thought he’d ever put his hands on me. Well I took his laundry out of the washer yesterday and he choked the ever fcking living sht outta me. The way it went down was terrifying because my back was turned to him at first. He waited very patiently for my hands to be out of the way and then wrapped his arms around me so fast it was like a nanosecond difference. One second I was on the ground and the next I’m dangling and hanging by my throat. My brother is a big dude ngl, he’s tall and kind of meaty. Our laundry room is tiny so I start bucking like a bull and trying to put my feet on anything to push back against him to get even an inch of space between his arm and my neck. During the struggle, there were a few times he had to adjust because I’d wiggled too much and could suck like a tiny breath in before he squeezed again. I feel like this is the only reason I’m not dead, because in actuality the whole struggle lasted probably 3 minutes, it’s just that he wasn’t SUCCESSFULLY choking me the whole time. I tried scratching his arm, breaking free, but it was like I was a little rag doll. I seriously did not make a dent compared to him. Anyway like a minute in I started pleading with him, saying I couldn’t breathe, I was gonna die and he didn’t want to go to jail, think about what you’re doing. I tried saying I’m sorry, I said you can do your laundry, I said I was wrong to touch his stuff, I said I loved him so many times and to please think about what he was doing. None of it worked and at this point he hauled me out of the laundry room and slammed both of us on the floor of our living room so I wouldn’t have anymore leverage. I could feel my whole face get tight and hot at this point. You know how when you put on a ring that’s too small and your finger turns purple and swells up? Yeah it felt like that. So I knew I was going to pass out soon and my last effort was to start praying but it was so hard to. There felt like there was no more room in my throat to speak so my words sounded so horse and wheezy and I knew I was going to waste the rest of the air I had but I was so desperate. I was like Jesus I love you, Jesus please save me, Jesus please show me how to live through this, Jesus I’m not ready please. At this point I was so scared and sure that I would die that I could NOT stop talking. It felt like all I could do to help myself . Then at the last second, he lets go and says very calmly, “don’t touch my stuff”, and stands up. I think I just laid there still for like 2 minutes, just crying and catching my breath. I still couldn’t stop talking, I kept repeating I’m sorry I’m so sorry I’m sorry like a robot. His demeanor as soon as he let go reverted to stony calm, not even anger or heavy breathing. When I was a little less scared I got on my knees and crawled to my room with him still watching. I locked my doors and kicked the screen out my window and ran to my car. I called my mom, she came home from work. Anyway, the last thing I wanna add to the story is that when she got home and went inside to talk to him, when she came out she told me he was still calm. She called around seeing if he could get placed in a facility, and was describing his current behavior as good. Like he was currently so calm you would probably never be able to tell he just tried to kill me. I think after everything, it’s that little piece of information that’s stuck with me. I feel like I have enough evidence now to understand that he is probably a little disappointed he couldn’t finish. I think he’s been waiting to do this for a long time and I really don’t think he loves me or ever has.
