I can still hear the collapse of my mothers heart, the shake in her yell and the pounding of her docile fists the day my brother left.

Gasping silence and shocked, wide eyes

She couldn’t believe that the monster she always saw lurking in my father had finally shown its full form.

“He’ll come back, they always do” he said 

“Get off the ground and move on”

As if the absence my brother left behind was just dead weight to be carried.

He only moved into an apartment a few miles away with a girl he tried really hard to love
  
She was just there to help him feel a tiny ounce of independence from the tight knit cell we often found ourselves boxed in.

Tow away his car, **** all the dignity he has left out of him, rough love is real love 

Cancel all his accounts, alienate him from any connection to our blood, rough love is real love

Tell him we won’t be here when he decides to stop dreaming and come back, rough love is real love.

Extract the sound of his name from your lips and discard the memories, easier for us to forget that he exists. 

I used to count sheep whenever the “lets see who can yell louder” game started

I imagined each face was his running as fast as he could to leave this hellhole we called home

I wished I could too.

I still haven’t been able to count sheep since, they only keep me awake serving as reminders of the mock childhood hammered into my skull from the ****** hands of my father.

I used to think I had my mothers heart but more and more of my father is beginning to seep from my pores

Bitter control freak tendencies I can’t scrub out.

You can only be called a worthless  ******* for so long before you  start believing it’s true

I believe that’s why he ran.

Running is a passion of mine

The harder I push, the less I think

I can control the amount of pain I feel.

I’m a runner

But I don’t want to run from this anymore.