Friday, July 14, 2006
Suspicion.I never meant to suspect him. He played his role well; he was not just a brother to me, but a best friend as well. We shared juicy gossips about our individual friends, and secrets that we told no one else. He was very supportive of me in whatever things I do, and he always made sure I knew he was there for me if I ever needed him. We were so close; so close you might mistake us for lovers instead of siblings, but we couldn’t care less about what people think, we were happy that way.
I was the pampered one at home, my brother he was always picked on for little things like not doing the chores well or missing out some spots while cleaning up. My parents did not try to hide the fact that they disliked him a lot; they practically showed it at every chance they got. I could tell that my brother was suffering inside, but he never showed it. He treated me dotingly, just like a brother would to a sister and that made me feel guilty whenever my parents were scolding him. I asked him once why is he treating me so well despite the way he was being treated. He only shook his head and replied, “I don’t believe in retribution.” From then on, he was like my hero, my role model, the one I looked up to the most.
But all that ended when I brought my first best friend, Amelia home. I was at a stage in my life when I depended on my friends and my brother a lot, I would never be able to face the truth if anyone of my friends or my brother were to leave me. I could say that my friends were my most prized possessions and that was why everything fell apart when Amelia decided that she was going to date my brother. I remember Amelia’s exact words when she saw my brother. “Man, he’s hot!” she had said. I was insanely jealous, not because Amelia thought my brother was good-looking but jealous because I felt my brother was mine, and no one should have him other than me. I was ignorant. When Amelia told me she wanted to date my brother, I told I her I forbade it, and that if she did date my brother, I would sever all ties with her.
Yet it did not stop her. She came up to me one afternoon and told me she and my brother was dating. I was horrified, I screamed at her, calling her names and then ran away fuming mad. How I hated both my brother and Amelia that point of time. I wished that they were dead so much it almost seemed real. One by one my friends left me to join Amelia, and I was left all alone. I became depressed, often skipped school and turned anorexic. My brother continued to plead with me, trying hard to save our precious relationship but I wouldn’t let him. To me, he had turned into someone I no longer trust, his every move caused me to be suspicious. But he never stopped trying.
Then one night, I overheard my parents quarreling and I suddenly found out that my brother wasn’t my real brother after all. He was left under the care of my parents when his own parents didn’t want him. My heart filled up with hate. All those times he had been so nice to me, all those times he pretended to be my brother, they were all fake! i thought to myself, not allowing my better half to convince me that what I thought made no sense. I was consumed by hate. I hated him.
From then on, I suspected his motive behind every move he made. Be it just saying “hello” to me or smiling at me, I always told myself he wasn’t my real brother, that he was planning to get me if given the chance to. Then one day I fell sick, and he tried to give me a glass of water. I rejected it with a hostile tone, telling him to get lost. But he remained stubborn, standing exactly he was when he passed me the glass of water and refusing to budge. He kept insisting that I drink up. “Drink up. Drink up princess. Please.” That was what he said. I took one look at his face and all my hate returned. I shoved the glass of water to the floor.
“Why do I have to drink it? What did you add to it? Do you wish me dead? So you can finally become part of my family? What exactly do you want with me? Why are you trying to kill me?” I screamed at him, my fists clenched tightly, my face flushed red. He was taken aback by my reaction. Hurt was shown in every inch of his handsome face. “What on earth are you talking about Elisabeth? Why will I ever kill you?” He asked, moving towards me, arms wide open trying to embrace me. I pushed him away, all the while screaming my head off. Then I saw my pocket Swiss knife on my table. I grabbed it and flicked it open, waving it at my brother, threatening him that if he came closer, I would stab him in the heart. He backed off immediately; cautious of the knife I was swinging around wildly in front of his chest. Suddenly, my cell phone rang. It was just enough to distract him and seizing the chance, I ran out of the house still holding the Swiss knife in my hand. My brother ran after me, all the while calling out, “Stop it Elisabeth! Please! Stop running!” I kept on running, he was the bad guy, I told myself. I couldn’t force myself to stop suspecting him so I ran, hoping he would lose track of me. I ran down several blocks but still he was behind me. After a while, I no longer felt his presence behind me. I turned behind and saw fumes coming out of a car, then my eyes traveled slowly down to the familiar figure lying on the road. I couldn’t breathe. It took all the courage I had left in me to walk over. I dropped to the ground on my knees, trying to calm myself down. I kept muttering his name over and over again, shaking him gently to wake him up. Blood seeped from his head and stained my shirt. It was like I had just woken up from a trance, and that all I had felt towards him were gone. I shook him again, begging him to open up his eyes then I began slapping him when he wouldn’t. Tears coursed down my cheeks. I was afraid I’d lose him.
When I stood by his bed at the hospital, I couldn’t stop crying. He looked so weak, so fragile. Then he opened his eyes, softly, he called out to me.
“Brother!” I rushed over to his side, gripping his hands. “I am so sorry…. I am so sorry….” I cried out, crying even harder. He tried to wipe away my tears, but couldn’t find the energy to do so.
“A family doesn’t need apologies.” Then he coughed, a thin line of blood appearing from the edge of his mouth. “Just know I’ll be with you in here. Always.” His hand pointed weakly to my chest then fell down, motionless. I knew I had lost him. All the suspicion, all the hatred towards my brother, I could not forgive myself for what I had done. I cried bitterly and my heart ached. Time seemed to have stopped that second my brother went away. It hurt terribly.
I still hate myself now for suspecting him, the one whom I should trust the most. I miss the memories we had but he lives in my heart, and now whatever I do, I will always give it my best, because I know he will want me to. I do it for him, my beloved brother.
6:45 AM
