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It was the constant war I had going on in my head until eventually, I decided I didn't want to be that person.
No longer a victim of circumstance.
No longer a victim of the system.
No longer a victim of my brother's.
I would love him, but I wanted to do better. I didn’t want to end up like the despicable creatures who created us.
By the end of high school, I qualified for a scholarship for a two-year nursing degree at the community college. I didn't want to be a nurse, but they were trying to reach a quota, so the price was right, and my grades were just good enough to get me in. It was a very small light at the end of a tunnel I could reach out and grab.
While my brother was busy getting high and dealing drugs from our apartment, I tucked myself away and studied. Too many times, I had to hide under my bed to pretend I wasn't there so he wouldn't try luring me into his web. Despite how different I wanted to be, I also sought his approval for a long time. If he asked me to carry drugs for him, I would.
I was his mule way more times than I wanted to be. I was loyal to a fault. That was how family treated one another.
Those days were how I ended up where I was—in Florida. I had seen so many people fall victim to drugs. So after school, I decided maybe I could counteract my karma by working in drug rehab. Not to mention, I wanted to get out of the state and far away.
These Sunday phone calls with my brother were all I had left from my old life, and most of the time, I wished I could stop trying once and for all. He was mad at me for leaving and tried to make his problems my problems.
He also always asked me for money.
"Maybe you can slide me a few bucks? It’s the least you can do."
No, it wasn't. I didn't owe him shit. Even when I lived with him, I paid half the bills—most of the bills, if I’m speaking truthfully. He lived with the belief the world owed him something, and since I was his brother, I couldn’t say no.
"Yeah, I will wire you some," I relented even though I didn't want to. It was another sick way of keeping him close despite how bad it was for me. Damn the same blood running through our veins.
Sometimes, I thought of him as my backup plan. If life didn't cut it the way I wanted it to, I would have him to go home to. So far, that wasn't the case.
I loved being in Florida. The serenity I felt next to the ocean was unmatched, and the weather was continually warm. The job was a job, but it came with a room next to the water, so they could have offered me room and board with no pay, and I would have jumped on it.
"You gonna come at least visit?" he asked. No. It was the first thought I had, but I couldn’t say it.
"Um." I started rubbing the back of my neck, lowering my head and preparing myself for the lie. "Sure, man. I will plan something."
There was no danger in me flying home unless I was forced to. There was also no danger in him coming down to Florida because he couldn't afford it. Plus, he wouldn't dare leave the world of drugs and hookups for the serenity of the sea.
He thrived off deviance—his addiction of choice.
"Well, I gotta get back to work," I lied again, being it was my day off. I didn't work on Sundays, which was why I called him on Sundays. However, I still used work as my shield to get out of conversations I didn't want to have.
"Make that money," he sang, and I could picture the dollar signs he had in his eyes, knowing he would ask for more money next week. I rolled my eyes but didn’t say anything in response.
I hung up and took a full fifteen minutes to shake the hatred I had toward myself out of my system. Once I was no longer talking to him, I had to revert to my straight and narrow existence. I had to climb from the dark into the light, and it was not an easy path.
You would think after the upbringing I had, I would be used to pulling myself from the dark shit, but fuck, I was tired. I grabbed my surfboard and decided to hit the afternoon waves outside my back door.
If I’d learned one thing since I arrived in Florida, it was that salt, sand, and sun were a free kind of therapy to my darkened soul. This was my new life, my better life, and nothing was going to fuck it up for me.
Especially not my past.
Aches and pains of various nature woke me up.
My mouth felt like I had swallowed copious amounts of cotton balls. I tried to lick my lips, but my mouth didn’t have enough saliva to accomplish such a small goal. My head pounded as I tried to familiarize myself with my surroundings.
What was that incessant beeping noise?
After I blinked a couple of times, my blurry vision started to ebb, but I was left with more confusion. I tried to move my arm, but it wouldn’t budge. My eyes caught on to the small tube attached to my vein—an IV. I trailed the length of the line with my eyes, following it up to the machine it was attached to.
