my brother used to read me stories during my parents' fights. he's gone now.

I can't stop crying every time I see this post.

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*(originally posted 2018.11.28)*

My parents fought constantly. Breaking stuff, my mom hitting my dad, my dad choking my mom, her threatening him with a knife. Every single fight, windows, the TV, the door frames. Everything shattered. It was SO LOUD.

Me and my brother were little kids back then. Five and six years old, I think. Whenever our parents started fighting, my brother would always take me to his room, pull a blanket over us, and read me picture books. Every time. And after the fight, while our mom went out drinking and our dad disappeared somewhere, my brother would quietly clean up the broken glass. Sweep the floors. Make sure I ate.

He grew up saying he was never going to get married. Never going to put a kid through what we went through.

He was in 9th grade when he died by suicide.

He would've been such a good dad.

He's forever younger than me now. And my parents are still at it, still trying to destroy each other. And every time they fight I think about my brother, six years old, pulling that blanket over us and reading out loud so I couldn't hear the screaming.

I feel like I'm going to die.