• If only he knew what she was doing
    I wish he knew what was wrong with me
    But I can't tell him anything
    Because I want him to be happy

    I hide the abusive marks
    Far from my brother's sight
    I hid them from him
    Cause I don't want to start a fight

    If I told him the truth
    He wouldn't be happy
    His world would be gone
    And it'd be because of me

    So I must hide these wounds
    Hide them from him
    I feel so guilty
    I feel this is a sin

    What happens in the shadows
    Is something few people know about
    When I'm alone with her
    I end up about to scream and shout

    What's wrong with this picture
    Is it so bad
    To hide things from my brother
    Makes me feel very sad

    If only he knew
    What his girlfriend does to me
    I just want his happiness
    So I can't let him see

    I chose his happiness
    His over mine
    My happiness is trival
    His is divine

    She can have him
    As long as she treats him well
    I'll leave them alone
    I'll go to hell

    I'm condemned to the devil
    A devil's contract I did sign
    I signed it three years ago
    When I chose his happiness over mine

    Because I kept quiet
    I'm in a box in his room
    Nothing but powder now
    I brought my own doom

    I came home sometime around one in the morning. My big brother's girlfriend kept me out longer than expected. As I entered the dark and quiet house, I limped. My brother's girlfriend's friends may have cracked my calf bone, at least that's what I expected since it hurt to put weight on. The slow process up the stairs was a painful experience, but I managed to get up them with little noise. I couldn't wake anyone up. Not now. I was too much of a mess for them to find out. There was dirt and dried mud all over my clothes and clinging to my skin. My hair was matted and falling out. Later, I would have to see how much of my hair had been ripped out. I had dried blood staining my shirt and caked onto my face. There was a particular spot behind my right ear that throbbed and stung. That was the place where my brother's girlfriend had taken a pocket knife and cut my hair out. I believe that she took the skin with it. I didn't have to look to know there were black and purple bruises on my arms, legs, back, and stomach. It just meant that I would be confined to wearing jeans and long sleeved shirts for a few months. I didn't want to walk or lean against the wall, so I crawled down the hallway to my door. Using the door, I dragged myself to my feet and opened it up. Setting my backpack down on my bed, I heaved a sigh of relief for my bag was full of text books and a binder with my homework. I couldn't go to sleep yet because I had to finish it all tonight. Just by the amount, I knew that I wouldn't get any sleep tonight. I closed my door and flipped on the light, but when I looked over at my desk, there he was. My brother was sitting quietly in the black computer chair with his arms crossed, staring out the window. From the expression he wore, I could tell that he was angry. "Where have you been?" he asked in a calm voice. I only hoped that he wouldn't turn around. "I was at the restaurant where I work." I lied quickly. "They asked me to work late for some extra money. So I did." "I don't believe you." He said, spinning the chair around to face me. The look that then covered his face told me of exactly how horrible I must have looked . "What happened to you?" My brother asked, standing up and coming over to me. His gentle hands held my face in them as he examined the damage on it. "Who did this to you?" he asked, turning my face to the left so that he could examine the place behind my ear that hurt so much. "Answer me." I didn't tell him. I couldn't tell him. I couldn't take away his happiness. "No one. I just fell down some cement stairs." Another lie. I hated lying to my brother, but I had to in order to to keep his happiness. I had to lie to him to protect him. "Oh sure, the stairs ripped your scalp off, pulled out your hair, left black bruises and hurt your leg. Do you think I'm stupid enough to believe that?" he demanded "Tell me the truth." I pushed him away and opened the door. "No, I can't!" Running down the stairs was not the best idea because I tripped and landed all my weight on my injured calf. I screamed on impact as I felt the bone snap. For a very short second, I looked at my leg before forcing myself to my feet and going out the front door. The bone in my leg had penetrated the skin and was sticking out. I somehow made it out to the sidewalk where I continued painfully across the street. "Mia!" my brother shouted from the doorway. By now, lights were coming on in the houses around us and I saw the light to mom and dad's room come to life which made me panic. "Mia watch out!" My brother called, running towards me at full speed. His face showed fear, but he was too late to get to me. The speeding dodge ram truck hit me at about sixty. I followed on the front of the truck as the wheels squealed in protest to the floored brake. As the red truck spun, I fell off and the truck flipped over, landing right on top of me, still sliding. "Mia!" I heard my brother's voice call in the most horrified and devastated manor. "Mia!" he shouted again. With the last of my strength, I reached into my pocket and brought out an unharmed piece of paper. "Please brother," I gasped. "read this and you'll understand." My hand dropped in his lap, dead. "Mia? Mia!" he screamed. Tears streamed down his face and he was not himself. "Mia! MIA!" he kept screaming. The guy in the truck crawled out through the window, his face bloody. He saw my brother holding my head in his hands and crying. It was an odd sight. An eighteen year old boy, crying like a first grader who had just gotten his favorite toy taken away, holding the corpse of his fourteen year old sister. I was the toy that was taken away from him. His favorite one out of all. His little sister. The one dearest to him. His wails of grief were heard around the whole neighborhood, but were soon drowned out by the wail of sirens. "Hey kid," started the driver. "get out of here before the truck blows up." He was dragged back by the driver and the top half of my body went with him, secured by his arm that wouldn't let go. "Mia!" he continued to scream, but there would never again be the annoyed reply 'What do you want' or the friendly 'Yes brother?' There would be no more camping together in the same tent or dunking each other under the water in the lakes. The truck's engine exploded and he and the driver got hit with metal and glass shards. Now covered in a black dust, the driver pulled my brother to the safety of the grass. There would be no more fun riding in the convertible or mountain drives in the jeep. No more can we stay up on the roof to star gaze and try to find the big dipper or the Pegasus. No more sleeping in the same bed when I'm lonely or he just wants to spend time with his little sister. When the ambulance arrived, they took away the driver to the hospital and quickly sent for another ambulance. The police that arrived tried over and over to separate my brother and my body, but he didn't let go. He still wanted to see is sister's bright smile, to hear her happy laugh, to brush her hair when she's sick. He wants his sister to help him go shopping for new clothes when his gets torn. He wants his little sister to help him with his English homework, and teach him how to count in French. He wants to talk to his little sister every day and play video games together. But dong all of those things is no longer possible, because I, my brother's little sister, am dead. I won't be coming back, ever. What would have happened if I had told him about what she was doing to me. What his girlfriend had been doing to me. Would I still be alive? No, probably not. You can't take back anything that has already happened. Everything I've done is set in stone. People would no longer say 'Hey, look at those two siblings. Don't they look so cute together?' or 'Isn't that nice? Two loving siblings helping each other out.' No one would ever speak those words to us again, because one loving sibling is dead. My brother is soon in the ambulance. My body had been forcefully taken from him and he was now alone. He gripped his hands into tight fists and, before he could dig his nails into his skin, he felt the smooth piece of paper. He slowly brought it up so that he could read it. The front said, To My Dear Brother. Tears coming anew to his face, he unfolded the paper and read the poem that was inside. He was bawling by the time he finished. Now he understood. He understood the marks and injuries that had covered his sister's body. After today, there would be no more girlfriend. Because of his so called girlfriend, his dearest sister was dead. He could never again watch the one whom he valued the most grow up with him. True family love is the one between siblings that have no one else to turn to but each other. When they love one another more than they love themselves. That is true love.