Trigger warning: There are implications of self-h**m, and su***dal thoughts, please do not continue reading if you are in a sensitive place and it could affect you. 

Aaron

"You've been blaming yourself all this time huh?" She is special. I knew it the moment she started banging on the door. She has the ability to understand others, even when they have shown only a small part of themselves. She has talent. She reads into me, like I am an open book. She takes the small crack in the door as the chance to see everything. To see everything that goes on inside my head.

Honestly at first I thought she was annoying. She had tried to push herself into someone else's business, which wasn't her place. She had tried to pressure me into admitting that I was... hurting myself. She should stop doing that, sticking her nose into where it didn't belong. But...

It is usually sympathy. Everyone else would look at us with eyes of pity. 'Oh, poor things,' they are probably thinking in their heads. But she, she is different. She actually understands our pain. Our emotions. She isn't pitying us. She understands us. Is this why my brother seemed to light up everytime he was texting her?

My brother may not even get to see either of us. I might not get to see him light up the world with that smile and those eyes of his. I might not be able to see him happy again.

All because of me.

Because after all, it is all my fault... isn't it?

'You know... It's not your fault...' Her voice echoes in my head. Is it really not my fault? The floodgates trembled, groaning loudly. Cracks started to form on those giant, tall, strong gates that had never once wavered. Then, they opened and all the water came crashing out. All the water that had been gathered up for years, came flooding out. That wall that had been up for so long was defeated. She took away all of my defences, and I felt exposed.

But for some reason, it feels like I am able to reach the top of the ocean and breathe some air for a while. I notice the water dripping from my chin.

I thought I forgot how to cry. Since a long time ago.

. . .

James

My eyes flicker open, and I blink several times. Eyes watering from the glaring lights. Why... Why am I still here?

I turn my head slightly and see my brother.

His eyes are baggy and his hair is messy. He looks like he hasn't been taking care of himself, which is funny, because it feels like forever since the time he was always bugging me to take care of myself. To bathe, to brush my teeth. Like... a parent. As I stare at him, I know that him doing this is like a parent too. Maybe he loves me more than I know. More than I can comprehend. Maybe he doesn't deserve all the hate I have been throwing his way the past two years. Guilt washes over me, nearly bringing me to tears. I promise myself that I will treat him better. That I will give him a chance and try to understand him. Or maybe I'll just leave his life and make everything easier for him. It is a win-win. I'll leave this hell. He'll be relieved of me.

My eyes move to a handkerchief tied around his wrist. Is that...dried blood? No, he didn't. Did he? But I know that he probably did. Again. I cause him so much stress. Maybe I should stop blaming him for Mum's death. I had no one else to blame. It was the only way I could live in denial and live like everything was okay. But now I don't have to blame him anymore. Because I don't want to live.

I start to feel the weight on my legs and look at Daisy. Her hair is frizzy, all over the place, and covering her face. My instinct is to reach out and push her hair aside, so that I can see her face. Her round eyes that I know are brown, and bring comfort. She stirs.

"James!" Her arms wrap around my neck, without a moment's hesitation. She is glad that I am alive. At least one person is. But...

I don't want to be here.

Daisy

"James!"

He's alive. He's alive. Thank God he's alive. I tackle him, holding him in my arms. Yet... his neck feels so cold. I can't muster the courage to look at him. I know what is awaiting. I know what he will look like.

He looks like an empty shell of a man. Like a mannequin in the dress shop. Lifeless, unmoving.

Dead as it can be.

Aaron

He... doesn't want to be here.

I don't have to hear him say it. I can see it, right in his eyes. His cold, barren expression. Muscles all limp.

"Live... She would've wanted you to live...I want you to live..." I break off. I can barely see what is in front of me. I want to die, too. In spite of all that...I needed to live for my brother. I only lived for my brother. I kept living because my brother needed me. It's the only thing that kept me going. The only reason why I'm still walking through the burning, everlasting flames of hell. My brother needed me, I told myself time and time again. I couldn't leave him to face this hell alone.

. . .

Wednesday, 22 October 2018

"YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING RIGHT!" Slam! The papers fly everywhere, all eyes glued onto me. My head hung low. I was the newbie that messed everything up, my reputation was the worst in the office. All I had to do was sit at the computer and answer calls, reply to their emails. Even I was disappointed in myself.

"Sorry boss..." I murmured, unable to defend myself.

"All you do is apologize. One more time...You better get the next order right. Otherwise you'll be fired!" My boss stomps off, silence hangs in the air. I felt like I should be on the brink of tears, instead, I felt nothing. I stood there for a long while, before sitting down at my desk.

"Yes, this is Aaron from Amazing Prime speaking, how may I help you?" I can't mess up this time. One would say I felt determination, but honestly, I wished I did. I wished I felt anything at all. I was too tired to feel. Too tired that I was functioning on the last brain cells I had left. The reason why I couldn't mess up was because I needed to provide for him.

. . .

"Where is your manager? I would like to speak to them!" A woman with blonde short hair demanded. I had calmly and carefully recited the company's policy to her, but clearly she wasn't having it. I don't understand. What did she expect me to do? Rectify the policy myself?

"Ma'am... Please, I really cannot refun-"

"Where is your manager???" Her face is contorted with rage. She throws the glass at my feet. Ah! The shattered glass pierced through my skin. Ouch... The cut was rather deep. This was okay. I was fine. I would be okay. I just needed to remain calm.

"Excuse me, ma'am, did you ask for me?" My boss stepped in, arriving to save the day, even though I hadn't even called her yet. She had a sixth sense for trouble.

"Go, you need to go for your next job right?" she whispered under her breath. They were words meant for only me to hear. I looked at her, I felt a rush of gratefulness towards her. She winked at me, and I could hear her saying 'I've got this, now go.' I was so grateful for her. At least at this job, I would be taken care of. I wouldn't have to worry about making mistakes. She cared about me. So I quietly removed my apron and packed it into my bag.

"Sorry ma'am, I apologize for his poor behaviour," I heard her say, as I scurried off. "Would you like to have a coupon?" I took my bag, then sneaked out the back door.

. . .

"Why's your leg bleeding?" That was the first question he asked when he saw me. I thought he would scold me for being late. Instead, he merely frowned, before shaking his head and pointing towards the boxes. It was his way of excusing my tardiness.

"We need to deliver these. Carry them onto the truck" I nodded, and headed over, picking up the crates. One of my colleagues noticed my leg, and his eyebrows creased.

"Hang on boss, we need to at least patch him up!" he exclaimed, seemingly shocked at my bosses' lack of concern for the shard of glass wedged in my leg. The boss shrugged, and walked off. So my colleague took that as his approval and brought me to the edge of the truck.

"Sit," he said, pushing me down. He slowly treated my wound. "It's gonna hurt," I winced as he removed the shard and swiftly poured iodine over it.

"You'll need the hospital after this," he said, while wrapping my leg in a bandage, but I refused.

"I need to work," I insisted, and he let go after a few back and forths.

"All right, fine. Hang in there," He patted me on the back, and I nodded. "Take care of yourself."

"HAHAHA! Heyy, stopp!" I turned around, to see a group of teenagers laughing boisterously. Teasing each other. As if there was nothing to worry about in the world. My eyes darkened. That could've been my life. No, it should've been. Instead I was exposed to the cruel world, left to fend for myself and my brother when I was just 16. The moment Dad left us. I sighed. I should stop thinking about such pointless things. It wouldn't change my situation. I heaved the boxes up the truck.

. . .

The moment I set foot at home, I headed straight for the kitchen. Cooking was never my forte, I had no choice but to pick it up as soon as Dad left so that I could feed my brother. I was sweating like a pig, my leg hurt so much my vision was kind of blurry. Yet I pressed on, chopping up the vegetables and frying the chicken. The onions made my eyes sting.

"Bro, dinner is ready, come out to eat," I shouted across the kitchen. I already knew the answer he would give me. Please don't be the answer I think it is.

"I don't want it," There it was.

"You have to eat you know," At this point I was scared that my brother would drop dead from starvation.

"I already ate," You liar. I know you didn't. I know you didn't. Please eat. Please just come out and eat I...

"Why didn't you tell me??" Exasperation filled my ears. It escaped my lips before I could stop it. I had a long day. I came home and prepared this. It took a few hours. But still, I knew that I was in the wrong. I shouldn't have lost my cool.

"Why do I need to tell you?" James argued back, which only made me feel even worse.

"I'm your older brother and I'm taking care of you for goodness sake," He would never understand. He never understood me. I was trying my best for him, but he saw it as my worst.

"I don't need you to take care of me, you are so fucking annoying," He rolled his eyes and takes them off his phone, locking them with mine, making sure that I heard what he was going to say next.

"I hate you," I hate you. I hate you. I...Hate...You... The words echoed in my head again and again and again. I never knew that just 3 words could cause my heart to ache so fucking much. Shooting through my heart like a bullet. Like an arrow piercing my already broken heart. It hurts so much I can't breathe. I felt dizzy, my surroundings looked blurry.

"Fine," I croaked, stumbling into my room. "Starve then." Tears stained my hands and the world was spinning around and around and around. Everything was blurry. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you I hate you I hate you i hate hate hate hate love hate love hate brother hate mother father wish dreams hopes none hate loathe despise disgust pain hurts ache throb burn live die-

Pain. Sharp, sharp pain. It fucking hurts, fucking throbs so much. Nonetheless, my head cleared. My hands were wet from my tears, and the blood. Why was I living? Why was I alive? Why was I-

Your brother needs you. Your brother deserves a good life. He deserves everything you don't.

Sometimes people started losing the will to live the more their loved ones hated them. After a while, my brother hating me fuelled my will to live instead. Because it meant that if he was busy hating me, then at least it meant that he wasn't the one suffering. He had someone else to blame. I could be the one to bear all the blame, to bear all of his hate. I could be the one preventing him from breaking apart.

He needed me. He deserved to have the life I wanted to live. He deserved all the hopes and dreams and to chase after them, in a way I couldn't. He deserved... everything I don't. Everything that I could or couldn't give him. So I had to stay.

So I lived.

For him.

Now he doesn't even want to live anyway. So what's there left to live for?