One

One

  He was home. As little as it felt that way, he called it home nonetheless. At an age of nine years old, it was as though the little boy bottled up enough most kids hardly had to worry about at their age. Like every other day, using his toes to press his heels, he forcefully pulled out his shoes. From the door of his home, he had a clear view of the kitchen and as always, there she was, sitting down staring into blank space with a small cup of liquor which stench filled up his lungs from even the entrance of what he called his home. Still as stone, there she sat, not an inch of movement, not a trace. A slight squeak could be heard as he closed the door, tired of always listening to children outside screaming in a tongue incoherent to his youthful brain. The sun was ruthless, as was his body, his throat cringed tightly, starved of water. Getting water was, like most things done that year, extremely difficult. Stepping into the kitchen, she began to turn towards him, finally moving after having stayed still for the whole time since his arrival home. It was almost like she wanted him to see all this, for it appeared like each time he touched home ground, she would start everything all over again, this time was no different. Leaning back and forth, a soft thud could be heard each time she leaned back, her head hitting the cupboard behind her. There she would sit, for an hour or so, repeatedly leaning back and forth, over and over. It seemed scheduled, almost rehearsed, for each time an hour or two had passed, she would eventually stop all the banging and burst into tears. Each time this happened, the little 9 year old knew not what to do, and all he did was pull out a box of tissues and lay it by her side, occasionally sitting beside her, giving her a hug before taking his leave. His sister, although seldom home, the days she were, would be spent in her own room, like most teenagers of their time.

  He felt afraid, petrified. Once in awhile, he would think to himself if he'd done anything wrong, wrong enough to allow for him to live such a life. However, he knew, little as he was, being the only man left in his family, he plucked up any courage he had left, and tried day in day out to lead the family emotionally. Little did he know, that throughout the process of trying to keep the family emotionally stable, in the midst of it all, he had slowly begun to lose control of his own emotions. Walking about, his head would always be kept down, he was so afraid of the world outside, yet so protective of the family he had left. Separation of a family was not easy, not for someone who had lived a seemingly bliss life till then. Life was tough, life was hard, but life went on.