Chapter 2: Dreams
As I observed my sister's hopeless situation I really wanted to get out of the small town. Getting married and be taken care of by your husband sounded nice and dreamy, but there was no guarantee that the happily ever after would come with the wedding vows. I was getting increasingly convinced that I'm not even going to get any one's attention as all my insecurities were pointed out and inflated by brother-in-law. Such words as 'fat", "useless", "dumb" were drilled into my subconsciousness.
On this particular bad day, I was told I should live in the pigsty, since I was such a shitty existence, the fists were about to start flying. I was already fifteen, had enough, and my sister's pleas "not to worry mom" were wearing thin and useless, she wasn't even around at the time to help me.
As an empath I begun noticing moments when she was secretly relived when her hubby would begin picking his drunken fights with me instead of her. I lost faith in the adult who was supposed to guide and protect me.
So, when he was getting too close to me with his fist threatening, I ran, ran so fast that withing minutes I was at the post office that was half the town away.
I called it at being hit, she brought him here, even after he hit her while pregnant, she got married to the bastard out of shame. It was her choice to be with him, not my responsibility to become her shield, yet I was shamed into not saying a word to anyone else about all the escalating psychological abuse. With the threat of being hit now I punched in my brother's coordinate numbers on the tele-orb in the post office.
The telephone was located in a small green booth in the corner of the post office for privacy, in the middle of the receiver was a shiny yellow orb with numbers you dial to reach another person, five numbers all it took to get my brother on the call. He was Techno Engineer at a phone company one city over, and would drive past our town to and from work, luckily, he was on duty today and I was able to talk to him.
Through sobbing I quickly summarized what happened, I knew he was busy at work and might get in trouble if I distract him for too long. I felt better now that someone else knew about what was happening. Thanked him for listening, and told him I'm fine now. I went home slowly after that, took me minutes to get here, hours to get back.
Crossing the threshold of my home I was met by brother-in-law, who was mumbling meaningless apology, with a winding story how he didn't mean it and he would never hit anyone.
"Whatever, I told my brother all about this nothing." I interrupted him. He went pale, yeah, he'd never bark at anyone who could bark or hit him back.
I laughed realizing that this pathetic looser would dish out his own insecurities only at weaker people who wouldn't dare to tell others about him and ruin his reputation. I ran to my room and barricaded the door before he finished mulling over things.
I went to bed early again out of habit, but decided not to force myself anymore and fight back. Sometime later I heard a hushed argument, looked out of the window and recognized my brother's old automobile. It seemed he stopped in on the way home after his late-night shift, I knew better than get in the middle of it and since I couldn't actually hear anything I dosed back to sleep without realizing it.
The next day my sister was furious, and proclaimed me a traitor. Somehow it was us versus them and I betrayed the trust of the family. It was an amusing argument to listen to since I forgot when was the last time I received any kind of love or affection, probably when my dad was still alive and my siblings were away studying; I kind of felt like a single child back then, hugged, cuddled and taken care of. That memory made me sad, and my sis probably assumed she gained some sort of victory leaving with a triumphant "Umph!"
The following two-three months followed by a silent treatment. Which was kind of an upgrade from yelling, insults, and threats; but the cold shoulder still hurt. My friend Iryna said she would trade me the silent time for a bit. Having a violent alcoholic father herself, she understood my pains better than anyone. Non the less, being treated like you don't exist hurt, especially when you needed help, advise or were feeling ill.
Not like I had good treatment before, anytime I felt ill brother in law would convince my sister I was faking it to get sympathy, get out of school, or to get out of chores. I was made to finish washing floors once with cold water because guests were coming. Well, my under the weather feeling escalated to a fever and got worse by the time I was taken to the hospital. I was told I was in coma for few days, and then miraculously woke up. I think I saw a healer the nigh before waking up, I'm convinced someone was doing charity work, since doctors and regular medicines can only do so much. Since then, I've taught myself to go to the first aid clinic before reaching out, and not to rely on anyone.
But how good it would be for someone to worry about me? I was craving love and compassion, and now being a literal outcast was pouring salt on another wound I didn't think I had.
The saving grace was my best friend Ira. We shared our pains, and small joys, and somehow world was a bit more tolerable. We escaped our realities day dreaming about getting out of this small town, going on adventures, or building careers. Lana dreamed of a rich and kind suitor, which none of us would refuse. Our town had poor population, on average both partners needed to hold a job for a family to do well. She had good goals, and with her looks I wouldn't be surprised if she met them. Would be nice if she met a nice baron, and we would be invited to tea parties and such. We kept on dreaming about a possible bright future, how our fifteenth Summer slowly rolled approaching the end.
Then one sunny day, I found out about someone's stolen future. A boy from our town was killed in a brawl in a neighboring big city. The whole town was shocked, I still didn't know that many people so I was just a silent observer in the rumor mill aunties spun around.
"A conspiracy?"
"A murder?"
"Maybe his father didn't hang himself five years ago?"
"Maybe he was also killed?"
"Maybe it's a curse?"
"Did you hear his brother came from the army for the funeral?"
"He didn't speak, nor cried, shut himself in his room for two days before going back!"
Eventually even my mind was brooding on these questions, despite not knowing him or caring too much about the rumors. I just felt pity for his mother and sibling, since the loss of my father I still had a gaping hole in my heart.
I fell asleep with the heavy thoughts weighting my mind down…I was in the middle of the town square, everything was grey, everyone was wearing mourning black clothing, and whispering. They were whispering, and mumbling, I was creeped out since it felt like I was the only one aware of myself. I wished they would stop, I wish I could move and run away, but I couldn't. I wanted to scream, cry out, but I couldn't. Extreme panic and terror were settling in me. Then someone put their hand on my shoulder and I could move, desire to scream and terror subsided a bit. Clam blue eyes were looking at me, unlike the hazy mass of people his features were well defined even down to his sandy-blonde hair strands.
"Yeah, it was murder." He said in barely a whisper. "And even a curse, they wouldn't be able to bring me down otherwise."
My mouth opened, I had questions, but before I could utter a sound, he put his finger on my lips saying:
"Shhh…"
"Don't say a word. Don't attract their attention. They can't see you right now, so don't utter a word when you go back." I was confused, then I saw shapeless figures were all staring at him, and stopped mumbling, which was even more terrifying. I was mortified.
"You must warn me next time. Pretend this never happened when you go back." He said as he pushed away from me and I fell, as I was sinking into soft ground last thing I saw was him floating away from the push, with the black shapes following closely behind him. I woke up with a silent scream, in cold sweat, and shaking. Luckily no one woke up to ask questions, I took his warning to heart and swore to myself not to utter a word of it. In the world of magus, curses are a terrifying thing, so I decided to suppress the memory as much as I could.
I was still shaky next day, after not sleeping much. Tossing and turning, getting tied-twisted in the blanket I kept mulling over this. By the time morning came I figured to avoid people and avoid the topic altogether by burrowing myself in studying, read up all the classic literature we were assigned for the summer and the recommended side books.
This led me to be very confident going into my second year of high school, which was a relative breeze compared to as middle school.
On the home front things were getting maybe better? At the very least brother-in-law never raised his hand at me after that event, and when the fights would start, I was getting much better at throwing his insecurities right back in his face, which usually did the job of shutting him up. If the weather was nice, I'd just have a good reason to leave for the day and spend it at my friends house or in a park.
One time I was washing dishes and he got way too close next to me yapping, I had it and threw silverware in anger walking away. Well, a knife slid off the pile and fell next to his foot, I laughed leaving as I saw him yelp like a scared puppy from that. Mom kept warning me to be careful, not to get pregnant so I could go to school. Well, that toxic person was the best walking advertisement for birth control there could be.
I hid in the attic that day, and came back close to the evening after reading few chapters of a good book which calmed me down. My sis told me she was surprised to see him doing the dishes when she got home, we laughed as I told her full story. He was a terrifying person when I was twelve, but now he's like a pathetic rabid dog that gets bouts of insanity, feel more sorry than angry at him, but still rather avoid him. She said he barely dodged a flying dish she sent aiming at him once, he was extra careful around her for a long time after that. We were getting better at talking, but the wounds were still a bit too raw and bad blood would come to the surface sometimes.
Thankfully, it happened less often these days.
Before I knew it my sixteenth birthday was coming up in early spring. Sixteen was the year when you come of age so to speak. Where at eighteen you were recognized as adults and boys joined the army for two years of service. At sixteen you were considered mature enough to start dating and get engaged, so I was very much looking forward to my first spring of youth.
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