My Self-Destruction Is All Your Fault

The room seemed to be getting darker and darker even though I knew it was just an illusion. The only sound that filled the room other than the music was my breathing. I wish I could get away. Anywhere as long as I am far away from here. It's gotten to the point where I will do almost anything to just run off somewhere and start a new life. I swore to myself as I punched the ground with my fist. I can't stand being here much longer. Nothing feels real anymore. I didn't even realize that the numbness in my face was starting to go away. I put my hand up against my cheek. I could feel my knuckles beginning to bleed.

"Isaac," my brother, Jeremy called. "I am going out. Lock the door behind me and don't tell mom or dad."

"You're completely wasted," I stated. "If you go out like this you are going to end up hurting yourself or hurting someone else."

"Nothing is going to happen," he mumbled.

"That's what you said last time when--" I was cut off by his hand colliding with my face.

I froze. The hit wasn't hard enough to bruise, but all the same the entire right side of my face was numb. "Just go.." I told him. My eyes focused on the door knob. This wasn't the first time and I knew it wasn't the last either.

I remember when all I wanted was to be just like him. I remember living in the apartments where we'd always be playing together. Like typical brothers. So many of the kids in our apartment complex envyed our relationship. All day long games of basketball or riding our bikes in the park. Playing tag with the other kids for hours. Decorating the house on holidays. Everything was so simple.

We were decorating the tree along with the rest of the house. It had always been my favorite. Dad walked into the room and placed another box of tree ornaments in front of us. I quickly pulled out a red glass ornament out of the box. "You're going to break it, Isaac!" Jeremy said trying to get the round ornament out of my hands. "Am not," I told him and walked towards to tree. I placed the hook on an empty branch and smiled to myself. "You should be more careful," Jeremy huffed.

"I wasn't going to drop it," I said.

"Yea, yea. You said that last year five minutes before you dropped a glass one," Jeremy pointed out. I ignored him and went back to the box.

Things have changed ever since we moved. Jeremy got mixed up with the wrong crowd and we started to drift farther and farther away. He wasn't the same person. Every night he'd fall asleep in front of the tv with the smell of alcohol and pot fresh on his clothes. It disgusted me yet for some reason I still covered for him. Always.

I don't think he was aware of how much I really did cover for him, but even after things turned violent I still did. I'm not sure if I should blame myself or blame the drugs and alcohol. I could never bring myself to blame Jeremy. The past prevented me from it.

Lately is seems more and more like I am becoming his punching bag. Each night is getting worse and worse. I was just his puppet that he could take his anger out on. I can't believe mom and dad haven't noticed. But they are so tied up with their work, how could they notice?

I slowly stood up and walked toward to window. I was so lost in the past that I hadn't even realized the sun was starting to rise. "Just six more months," I said sighing to myself. In six months I'd be turning 18. In sixth months I could finally get away. I was going to go to New York City and start over. I was going to re-invent myself and finally put the past behind me. Although in the back of my mind I knew I could never do that.

When will this war end?