My son doesn't speak much, he doesn't even cry.
When he tried to stand for the first time at two years old and fell, he didn't shed a single tear. He simply picked himself up and tried again. The only time he cries is when I carry him.
And when I say cries, I don't mean a few tears.
He bawls.
Every single time. At first, my wife and I thought something was wrong with him. We took him to several doctors, but they all told us the same thing. There was nothing physically wrong with him. Apparently, some children were simply like that. They told us to be patient with him.
But I still couldn't understand it. Even when I tried touching him, Ethan would look at my hand with disgust or move away from me. He only allowed Catherine to carry him, and even then, he always gave the impression that he was merely tolerating her because he needed to be carried. But the strangest thing of all was that he wouldn't let us kiss him.
That was a complete no.
The moment either of us leaned toward him, he'd immediately turn his face away. I just couldn't understand my son. Lately, though, we'd discovered a new problem.
Ethan liked sneaking into my study at night to read my books. We probably never would have discovered it if Catherine hadn't gone to check on him one night and realized he wasn't in his crib. We searched everywhere.
Nothing.
We were already panicking when we heard something fall in my study. We rushed in and found Ethan sitting on the floor.
Reading.
He didn't even look guilty. He simply stared at us as if we were the ones disturbing him.
I was about to scold him when I noticed the book in his hands.
An Introduction to Physics.
I nearly had a heart attack. What was a child who couldn't even properly read supposed to be doing with an introductory physics textbook?
Was my son…
A genius?
After that, we started locking the study at night. It didn't help, somehow Ethan always managed to find his way inside.
Eventually, we gave up. If he wanted to read, he could read. Then there was his strange habit of hiding money. Whenever he found money, he'd stash it somewhere.
Under his pillow.
In his pockets.
Under his bed.
Once, his kindergarten teacher called me because they'd found a hundred-dollar bill in his school bag.
I had no idea where he got it.
Honestly…
I just can't understand this son of mine.
Three years have passed since then.
I'm six years old now and my younger brother is two.
When he was first born, I thought he looked like a wrinkled little potato.
But as he grew, he became the cutest person I'd ever seen. I couldn't believe my parents had once been capable of killing this child.
My bastard of a father had been the one who pushed my mother toward it, but she had been the one who actually pulled the trigger.
I knew these people were crazy but for now, they were completely obsessed with Derick.
And honestly?
I wasn't jealous.
He deserved every bit of their attention. He was the most adorable little person I had ever seen. At first, my parents were shocked by how attached I became to him. They probably wondered why I was so affectionate toward him but couldn't stand being touched by them.
They probably thought I hated people in general. They had no idea.
I just hated them.
This time, I was going to save Derick and my little sister, too.
She hadn't even been born yet, but I already knew what would happen to her.
When I eventually left this house, I would take both of them with me.
I'd protect them.
And if my parents ever tried to hurt them again…I'd kill them.
I held Derick in my arms and whispered, "I won't let them hurt you ever again."
He giggled.
"Kyaa!"
"Awww."
Every time he did something cute, I was reminded of the fact that in my previous life, he had died before he was even ten.
It only made me hate my parents more.
Eventually, Derick fell asleep.
I carefully placed him back in his bed and tucked him in before leaving the room. I went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.
It was around dinner time, so Mom was preparing food.
She hadn't even realized I was there so when she finally noticed me she screamed and dropped the knife in her hand.
She instinctively tried to catch it and it sliced into her palm.
"AHHHHH!" She screamed.
I stared at her. Seriously?
"Ethan! Call your father!"
I sighed.
Shouldn't you call an ambulance if you've cut yourself that badly?
And what's with all the screaming?
This woman had beaten me until I was covered in cuts in my previous life, and I didn't scream this much.
Sheesh.
I called an ambulance first, then called Dad. The moment he picked up, I heard something in the background.
A woman's voice.
And then…
Moaning.
I closed my eyes. Oh, for fuck's sake. Of all the times to be cheating on Mom, you had to choose now?
I nearly threw up.
Still, I forced myself to ignore it and told him what had happened, because of all the screaming, Derick woke up and started crying.
This evening really couldn't get any worse. I immediately regretted thinking that.
Never tempt fate.
I calmed Derick down and stayed with Mom until the ambulance arrived. "Finally."
We reached the hospital. Dad eventually showed up, he sure took his sweet time.
But apparently, Lady Luck had heard my earlier comment and decided she wasn't finished torturing me.
The doctors ran several tests then they gave us the news.
Mom had a serious heart condition.
It wasn't immediately life-threatening, but she would need extensive treatment and eventually corrective surgery. The doctors told her that the condition could become more serious if left untreated, so they strongly recommended that she begin treatment as soon as possible.
And the cost? Around one million dollars.
I stared at the doctor.
One million.
That was a ridiculous amount of money. But surely we could afford it, right?
We weren't the richest family in the world, but we weren't poor either.
So there shouldn't have been a problem.
At least…
There shouldn't have been a problem.
If my father hadn't spent almost all his money on that woman. It was almost funny watching Mom's expression when Dad finally admitted that he didn't have enough money to pay for her treatment.
Her face turned so red she looked like a tomato. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. I quietly picked up Derick and carried him out of the room. I didn't need him listening to their argument. Besides, I was dangerously close to laughing myself to death. Our parents had once promised to protect us but they were the very people who would eventually destroy our lives.
Dad would abandon us for another woman.
Mom would become abusive.
Derick and my little sister would die.
And I'd be left with a mountain of debt even after Mom died.
I'm pretty sure Dad didn't even attend my funeral. I wouldn't be surprised if he forgot he ever had a son named Ethan.
I wasn't there to see it.
But I'd bet everything I had that he didn't care.
I looked down at Derick. "Good thing I got you out of there." He blinked up at me.
I just hope they don't steal my savings. Apparently, I needed a new hiding place.
After that, Dad apparently decided the best way to comfort Mom was with what I can only describe as make-up sex. He was apparently careful around the stitches in her hand. And judging by what happened afterward…
I'm pretty sure that's how my little sister was conceived.
One month later, Mom discovered she was pregnant.
By then, Dad barely came home. He always had some excuse, He needed to work late, He had an important meeting, He was working harder to provide for the family.
And Mom believed him.
Even though she had more than enough reasons to suspect he was cheating, she convinced herself that she was simply imagining things.
Six months passed.
Dad still came home at ridiculous hours. Sometimes three in the morning. Sometimes later.
Once, he came home completely drunk.
Mom confronted him. He yelled at her. Told her she was annoying. Told her to leave him alone.
And they had their arguments right in front of us.
Apparently, they'd completely forgotten they had children in the room. Whenever things got too heated, I'd take Derick somewhere else. I wasn't going to let him watch his parents destroy each other.
Mom became increasingly depressed and anxious.
She still tried to pretend everything was fine because the doctor had warned her that stress could affect her health and pregnancy. I think this was when her anger toward us started to grow. Luckily, I was six and had kindergarten to attend, while Derick had just started daycare.
She didn't have much opportunity to take her anger out on us. And whenever we came home, I'd warn Derick to stay away from her if she looked upset.
He always listened to me.
I was the nicest person in the world to him. Of course, that probably had something to do with how much I loved him. But I think he also trusted me because I always made the right decisions.
My parents didn't take care of us properly.
Mom was constantly going out with her friends, probably trying to pretend she didn't have children or a cheating husband waiting at home.
So I took care of Derick and admittedly, I spoiled him but what else was I supposed to do? He was so fricking adorable.
And my parents had already taken away my chance to spoil him in my previous life. This time, I was going to give him twice as much love. Who cares if I spoiled him?
My parents were almost never home on weekends.
Mom went out with her friends.
Dad went to see his mistress.
They always left money for us to buy food, but I tried not to spend too much. There were only two of us at home. I made sure Derick ate properly because he was still growing. He complained about the food constantly, though. So I started buying him dessert whenever he finished his meals.
It was his reward.
Whatever money remained, I hid.
My little sister was born on Derick's birthday.
Dad wasn't there.
The nurses probably thought Mom was crying tears of joy when she saw her daughter. They had no idea.
She was crying because she had finally accepted the truth.
Her husband was cheating on her.
My older brother is weird. He doesn't seem to like Mommy and Daddy and He likes hiding money.
When I asked Dad why he behaved that way, Dad said it was because he was a genius. He said Big Brother might not really care about us.
But Daddy was wrong.
Big Brother cares about me.
He always smiles at me. He takes care of me. He buys me the desserts I like, but only lets me eat them after I finish my food or homework. He plays with me. Whenever Mommy gets angry and starts shouting, he hides me.
So how could he not love me?
Daddy is just stupid.
He doesn't understand Big Brother.
He doesn't know that Mommy only became scary after Daddy stopped coming home. He doesn't know that whenever Daddy comes home smelling like that awful perfume, Mommy gets angry.
One time, I wanted to secretly call Daddy without Mommy knowing. I wanted to ask him to come home early because I missed him. But when Daddy answered, I heard a woman's voice.
She sounded like she was crying and screaming. I didn't know what to do so I found Big Brother and asked him.
When I told him what happened, he immediately took the phone from me and ended the call.
Then he washed my ears for almost an hour. He told me never to call Daddy again.
He said the woman who answered was evil. He said if she heard my voice, she'd come and steal all my candy. I got so scared that I cried but Big Brother hugged me and promised that he'd never let her steal my candy.
I believe him.
And from that day on, I never called Daddy again
….
Today is my birthday. Big Brother told me my little sister was my birthday present.
She's very wrinkly but when I said that, Big Brother scolded me. He told me I wasn't allowed to call her that anymore. He said she was cute. I don't understand how she's cute but Big Brother said she was, so she must be.
Daddy didn't come.
He promised he'd be here for my birthday.
He lied.
Hmph.
I should have known.
The only person who never lies to me is Big Brother. Mommy didn't even tell me happy birthday. She's just crying. She won't tell us why, she won't hold my baby sister, she won't even look at her.
I wanted to ask her why she was crying, but Big Brother took me out of the room. "Give her some space," he told me.
So I listened.
Big Brother is always right. Sometimes I want to ask him why he doesn't like Mommy and Daddy.
Sometimes I want to ask why he looks at Daddy like he's looking at poop.
Sometimes I want to ask why he hides all his money.
But I don't.
And I don't care about those things.
As long as Big Brother doesn't look at me the way he looks at them…
I'm happy.