"Um...I..thats.." i was stammering . "Brothers." "Oh, did they taught you?" Mary asked. She had no idea. "No...much worse."
I fell back into a memory of myself from a year ago... Back when the worst started.
My brothers were always teasing me, like normal brothers. I had three of them, Dylan, Diego and Dakota. They were triplets, and I was just their younger sister. The first time one of them hit me I was 16.
"You can't even multiply, so you suck!" Diego taunted. The only one that wasn't the meanest to me was Dakota. I looked at him with meaningful eyes. He just shook his head. He was really insecure, and he wouldn't risk his reputation for his flimsy little sister. "I know I do." I said, trying to take a different turn this time.
And then Dylan, who was quiet the whole 10 minutes before, did a running jumpstart and kicked me in the face. Back then I didn't know how to fight. I just sat there, clutching my forehead and crying. I was bleeding. "I'm sick of you." Dylan said, and walked out. Little did he know he had my blood on his feet.
Literally. The second he noticed it was all over the carpeted floor. Dakota was less accepting that anyone could hit me now. "Guys, I think she..." I couldn't hear anything. The world was spinning. I gasped for air, and my vision went from blurry to blind. "HELP!" I yelled.
The next time I woke up I was in a hospital. The doctor said I had a concussion. My parents were no where to be seen. I asked where they were. They said I had no parents and my brothers were my guardians.
Of course they didn't want my parents to know. They never do. One week later when I was discharged from the hospital, I though Dylan would apologize. Instead he slapped me and yelled at me.
Everyone pitched in. Even Dakota. I didn't know what came over me. I guess I was just sick of their taunts and lies and more. I punched Dylan. He looked shocked, his hand where my punch had been thrown. I ran.
I ran back home and started crying. "Run, TESS! That's all you ever do!" Diego's voice called after me. But I didn't care. Tears are streaming down my face as I hid in my locked room. I tried telling my parents what happened, but they waved it off.
But what really broke me was the next day. I thought my parents loved me. But I was proved wrong. "I thought we raised a tough girl." Mr. Miller was saying. "What did we do wrong?" Ms. Miller put her hands in her face. My parents were...dissapointed.
at ME. From those few days onward, I exercised and joined a fighting club. I worked as hard as I could to get into Harvard. And here I was, with the most amazing girlfriend. Back home there were 3 bruised and unaccomplished sons who couldn't even get to community college.
"Oh my god babe! I'm sorry I asked." Mary had her hand over her mouth. "It's okay...it actually feels better now, out it the open." I told her. She put her arms around me and I fell into her. Her embrace was soft and warm, exactly what I needed. I glanced back at her, and she kissed me.
"Well I will never hurt you." She said. "I know." I replied. "I'm so proud of you right now." She squeezed me tight. "Okay, okay, you can let go." I pleaded. "Nope! Not till you laugh. I've never heard you laugh." Mary squeezed me EVEN tighter.
"Hey! I thought you said you'd never hurt me." I said jokingly. "Well..." She grinned at me mischievously.
THEN SHE FRICKING TICKLED ME. I gave up. I laughed. Clearly and purely, than I ever had for a long time. My throat felt a little clearer, my cheeks paining a little from the unusual grin plastered on my face. "This is why I love you and hate you." I groaned after she let me go.
"I know. That's the point." She said. "To make you love me." "But. I already do. Why torture me?" (this is you, the reader, asking me.) I asked. "Because then I have fun." (Yes that is me replying to you) Mary laughed. And soon we were both laughing again, just till the sun went down.