I lay, on the top bunk, body tensed, hand cupped over my mouth. Praying he wouldn’t take me, again, to use for his own pleasure. I battled with my lungs, pleading for oxygen. Please, I thought, take my sister, spare me this one night. I now regret feelings of such selfishness.

I gasp, letting oxygen flow into my lungs, as the harsh hands of my once beloved brother, clasp around my ankles. He jerks me off the bed, dragging me down the hall as static builds up along the crease of my back. I’m so used to it, I don’t even scream. He thrusts me onto his dusty queen sized bed, pulling off my clothes.
“Andrew, please!” I begged. But i knew it was no use, this was the third time this week. It was only Wednesday.
He violently jumped on top of me, his body rubbing against mine. Hastily, he pulled the covers over, and then began the horrific pain. I tried to bring myself to a better place mentally, but the torture held me captive of my reality.
The climax was always the worst. I let out harsh screams, piercing the air, yet seemingly inaudible over the loud breathing of my brother. There was always a point, when the pain, was so unfathomably high, so much greater than any pain I’ve ever experienced. That’s when he got up, retreated to the corner of the room, and before closing the door her whispered, “sweet dreams” leaving me to lay there alone, swimming in disgust.
I gathered my clothes, strewn about the room, walked into the bathroom and hopped into the shower. I turned the shower on, warm water flowing down my face, washing away my dried tears. I wish it could take my problems, along on the long cascade down the drain into the sewer, and far away. I peered through the curtains, damp with moisture from the shower, the clock reflecting in the mirror read 1:08. I quickly finished washing the conditioner out of my hair, calculating how many hours of sleep I could get before school in the morning.
I shut the shower off, gingerly stepping onto the slippery floor to grab my towel. In the eerie silence, made by the absence of the shower, I could hear the muffled screams of my sister down the hall. I chocked back tears as I quietly opened the door to the bathroom. Making my steps soft and light, I peered through the slight opening of the door. My heart sank. It was the master bedroom, my dads room. Ever since my dad had caught wind of what our brothers had been doing, he joined in.
I hate my dad; yes it is a strong word, which is the motive behind me using it. Seeing him on top of my sister like that made me want to kill him, and I swear I would have. But this house was like a prison, if we behaved, we’d be freed, at least we had hoped.
I stepped back, mindful of the creaks in the floorboards. I quickly turned around to prevent myself from doing something I would regret. I walked into my room, once again climbing into the top bunk. I laid under the covers shaking. Rape I thought, the topic came up in school today. I wanted to confide in someone, I really did, it there was no one to confide in. The one person in the entire world that I could confide in was my mom. Kellie and I had before; she casually shrugged her shoulders and changed topics. Kellie hated her, but I didn’t. She was under so much pressure, I heard her cry in the middle of the night when my dad would yell at her. She would come downstairs in the mornings and have bruises and cuts on her face and arms. I wouldn’t describe out relationship as love, but I had loved her, mostly just because I hoped she would love me back. I thought for a long time, until the ladder leading up to my bed began to creak.
“Kathie?” she whispered. I immediately got up, ushering her into my bed. I brought her under my covers; she was shaking violently and crying. First began short fast tears and then full on sobs. Her crying seemed to be contagious as the tears I held back broke like a dam, flowing freely from my eyes down my face. We held each other, crying together waiting for sleep, for our dreams to come save us, and take us out of this prison so wrongly called home.