Whispers of Belonging

As usual, my brother's annoying, yelling voice greeted me when I woke up. Unfortunately though, I grew used to his screams. I could never ever get used to the abuse anyway.

Just thinking about his blows to my back last night hurt, both mentally and physically. He eventually grew weary of using his hands and switched to the whip during his outburst. I merely bit my lip until he finished.

Yesterday, I didn't do anything that would upset him.

I stretched my aching, wounded body and rubbed my eyes. I didn't get enough sleep the night before, so I was extremely exhausted. I never do get any sleep.

I walked to the small bathroom at the end of the hall after getting out of my tiny bed, which was essentially an old, filthy cushion. After my quick shower, I put on my old blue trousers, beat-up boots and a casual black shirt that went with my hair.

When I got back to my room, I exhaled deeply and prepared myself for the last day of high school. The main reason I was mentally unfit to end this phase of my life was that school had been a safe haven from Raymond.

After leaving my room, I made my way as quietly as possible to the stairs. Even though I knew it would be pointless to try to avoid seeing Raymond first thing in the morning, I still did not want to. It made sense at the time.

Since I was eighteen, I was allowed to leave the house by law. Raymond was the only obstacle. I was unable to break free of his hold on me. The same grip that terrified me and nearly strangled me several times.

On my eighteenth birthday, I did attempt to flee, but Raymond figured out my escape strategy and kept me locked in the attic for a week without food or water. I remember wanting to die, even though I had no idea how I had survived for so long. I wanted to be at peace, lead a quiet life, and see my parents again.

I had many moments when I just wanted to die and never see my abuser again, but I never considered killing myself. I wouldn't take my own life by doing it. I would rather die naturally or be killed than cause my parents any trouble. I was hanging on, but I had no idea how long I would have to.

Life isn't always fair.

Raymond was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, a frown on his perpetually stern face. I detested him. I wanted to show up to my last day of school looking presentable, so I hoped for the smallest sentence today-or at least this morning.

"Where do you think you're going?" His question was so direct that I had to wonder if he was capable of smiling. When was the last time I had seen his happy face? My grey eyes were filled with fear and dread, while his green eyes were filled with hatred for me.

"School," I replied, maintaining eye contact but speaking softly. I found out the hard way that he detested it when I took my eyes off of his. That day left me with yet another scar on my back.

He sneered. "As soon as school is out, you'll make your way home. I paled when he said, "I want you to make a good dinner, understand? I have guests in the evening." Visitors...

I swiftly replied, "Yes, brother," and he went back to his room. I didn't want to curse my luck, and it could have been worse since he didn't touch me. In case he decided to have second thoughts, I bolted from the house like my feet were on fire.

I finally grinned as I noticed my old bike parked close to the side road and enjoyed the fresh air. It was a calm morning, and I hadn't felt this renewed in years. I enjoyed the cold weather because it kept my body warm all the time. The cool breeze felt amazing, just like a refreshing summertime cup of water.

I sighed as I cast a sidelong glance at the kids being escorted to school by their devoted parents. I missed my childhood and the small town where my parents still resided. They were my guide around the sun. But then there was an abrupt plane crash that took the light out of my life.

At first, Raymond was by my side. Considering that I was only eight years old and he was only sixteen with no family to support him, he took good care of me. Our parents had money set aside for us in case of an emergency, so money was never an issue. A social worker who visited us frequently saw that he was the right person to take care of me.

Up until he flipped, he loved me and modeled for me what a good bigger brother should be. One day, everything went wrong, and I had no idea why he had turned nasty and violent. I was hated for no apparent reason.

"Willow, stop!" Someone's words knocked me out of my thoughts. I noticed that I was going to collide with my school door as I returned my attention to the road. With the assistance of my legs, I quickly floored the bike by slamming on the brakes. I was going to trip over my own stupidity and run into my teacher.

"How are you doing? I apologize so much, Ms. Rodriguez. I really didn't pay attention. She gently tapped my arm to interrupt me while I was speaking.

"Willow, don't hit me; I'm fine. But are you alright?"

I grinned. "Yes, and good morning."

"Good morning, my love. "Are you ready for the final day?" she asked, grinning, and I chuckled. She was definitely in need of a vacation.

"I'm not interested in completing high school. My second home is here." Sincerely, I confessed. To be more precise, it was my first home because the one Raymond and I shared was not really a home. I was unable to speak aloud.

I wanted to keep things private so that no one could find out what went on behind closed doors. I kept it a secret from everyone, including my closest friend, so as not to bother them or bring them into my dark world.

I turned to see Ava smiling as she walked in my direction. "Hey, Willow, are you excited?" she asked, her brown hair bouncing up and down as she jumped, her big black eyes dancing with excitement. I admired her enthusiasm and wished I had her carefree attitude someday.

"Good morning, Ava," I gave her a hug before leaving for class. As we moved through the hallways, other students and teachers greeted me. I wasn't the popular student with the flawless appearance or the top grades. I considered myself to be attractive and intelligent.

All that was known about me was that I was an excellent athlete, having won the gold in both swimming and running during my freshman year of high school. Since sports were conducted inside school premises and Raymond was not present, it was the only activity I could practice without his disapproval.

Joana, our teacher's nickname, cleared his throat as soon as we walked into the final music lesson. Good morning, Willow. Would you kindly take a seat? We need to talk for a while."

"Are we in trouble?" The class clown, Thomas, enquired. Joana laughed at the impetuous response as well as at us laughing.

"You are not, that is for sure. Unless there's something I ought to be aware of." When Joana said that, Thomas shook his head. "All right, let's get right to the point. The majority of students moaned when he said, "Since this is your last day here, I want every one of you, ladies and gentlemen, to share your thoughts about your future." Although talking about ourselves was difficult, I was eager to express my ideas to them because I don't often speak in class and I want someone to hear me out. Raymond never gave me the opportunity.

My thoughts returned to Raymond's remarks as the students took turns speaking. He was going to have guests, so I had to come up with a really nice dinner. As he put it, I didn't want to dishonor them with "burnt" food.

Once, the food was a little too hot, and I took a beating that left me unconscious for hours. He broke my middle finger and a few of my rips. I experienced bruises on my stomach for over a month. Despite my state of disarray, he declined to accompany me to the hospital, claiming that I would expose him. I wouldn't be brave enough to do that. He would cause me more pain.

"Willow... Willow!" Raymond had punched me there the other day, but Ava called as she touched my shoulder. I almost flinched, but I forced myself to look at her anyway.

"Yes?"

"You're up," she said, gesturing to Joana. He was waiting for me to get up and start talking, based on the way I looked at him. Upon reflection, conversing wasn't all that enjoyable.

"Oh... thanks."

With a comforting smile, he said, "Willow, could you please share your thoughts or future plan with us?"

With a nod, I gave up. "Of course," I grinned as I turned to face the other students in the class. I started talking, "High school was great," and I felt good about it because everyone was paying close attention to me.

"I genuinely like all of the teachers and students; at least, they were fantastic with me. I was treated like a niece or even a daughter by some, and like a sister and friend by others. The majority of you detest school. Heck, you even hate it!" They chuckled, and I smiled, feeling braver. But I'm appreciative of it, I replied. It served as my refuge from Raymond. "Everyone agrees that Joana is one of my favorite teachers and that your classes are fantastic. You would always say that we need to love the rain in order to have a rainbow. I appreciate you sharing this saying because I used to think of it anytime I felt angry or physically ill. My career goals include becoming a teacher, dancer, or ballerina. I am not sure yet. Have faith and persevere; the world is working on a wonderful plan for each and every one of us." Tears filled my eyes as I concluded my brief message, recalling all that my brother had caused me to miss out on.

I'll miss having a homely feeling at school.