Weapons

Chapter 2

I pass the bedroom Rose and I stay in. Furthermore, I pass the holes in the tan walls that my father has put there in the past. Some of those holes have come from his fists, some of those gaps have come from objects, and some…from us. I follow my father into Don's bedroom. Don's wooden bedroom door is barely holding onto the old rusted hinges.

There's a small dent about three inches long, four centimeters deep, and two centimeters wide in the door. The indentation is about a foot away from the handle. I watch as Don runs behind his short bed and cowers on the floor between the bed and the wall. My brother uses a white thin blanket with snags all over it. His pillow has flattened over the years.

My parents don't make enough money to buy the materials to create him a new one. I run into Don's bedroom as our father pulls him up by his hair. Don is screaming and crying. His face is as red as a tomato, and there's snot running down his nose. “I told you to get back here, boy!” my father shouts as he slaps Don directly in the middle of his face.

My brother falls to the floor as he wails in pain. “I can't breathe!” he blares while hipper ventilating. I feel tears run down my cheeks. I rush to Don to help him up while my dad stands above him. “Father, please stop. You're hurting him!” I yell as I try to help Don off the hard wooden floor.

There's blood and snot pouring out of Don's nose as he wails in pain. I feel a stinging sensation and hard tug on my hair. I'm flown across Don's room by my hair and hit the back of my head on the corner of Don's dresser. Not only that, but I can't see anything. What if I've gone blind?

I can't hear, the room is spinning, and it's difficult to move. My body starts to ache, and I begin to cry even harder. I can start to see again, my vision's blurry. I can see Don's figure on the floor, breathing rapidly. Furthermore, I scan the room, I can't see our father's figure.

He must've left after he threw me into the dresser. With my vision still blurred and hearing still drowned out, I try to use my right hand to pull myself up with the dresser. I'm on my feet, but not quite standing. I fall back down on the hard floor. Not only that, but I can't get up, I need to move. I panic as I scoot toward Don.

Don's still crying. It looks like his nose stopped bleeding. I gently lift the upper half of his body and hold him. “I'm sorry,” I whisper. He takes a deep breath in and exhales. “No matter what, no matter where, no matter when, no matter who we encounter, we always stick together,” he mumbles.

“Promise me?” “I promise,” I whisper. We help each other up onto my brother's bed. I still feel dizzy, but my vision and hearing are starting to return. My head feels like it's going to explode, and I'm tired. I'm fighting to hold my eyelids open.

We both sit up on the edge of my brother's small bed with our legs hanging off. “I don't want to live this life anymore, I don't want to be here anymore. I want us to runaway,” I say with sincerity. “I wish something could change. I want to go somewhere far away, I want someone would come here and take us well away” Don says as he looks at the wooden floor beneath our swaying feet. “Be careful what you wish for,” our mother says from the doorway.

“Why?” I ask as I turn to look at mother. “Your father just got off the telephone with a group of people that want to help you, they want to make you better,” my mother says. She starts to walk toward the bed. “They're going to come here and pick you both up, when you're all better you both can come back and things will be better than they are now” my mother says as she sits down beside Don. Mother has seen father get like this before.

What just happened to me and Don isn't anything out of the ordinary, so I don't know why my father decided to call someone to take us away? I look glance at the small window above my brother's bed. Even though the window is dirty, I can still see through it. “How long have we been in here?” I ask my mother gently. “About an hour and a half sweetie,” my mother says with no emotion.

It doesn't feel like Don and I have been in here that long. I could've sworn my father had just left a few moments ago after throwing me into the dresser. I must've fell asleep. My head is throbbing, and my eyes feel dry. I slide off the edge of the bed onto my feet.

I hear Rose playing in the living room. Mother must've finally let her out of our room. My mother stands up off the bed. “Supper is ready” our mother says as she starts to walk out of the bedroom. Don hops from his bed and onto his feet.

“I'm hungry” he says as he tries to hide the pain and sadness he'd just endured. “I am too and supper smells delicious” I say to Don as grab his hand and begin to guide him toward the doorway. I let go of Don's hand as we begin to walk down the hallway. I get to the kitchen and see our mother standing at the table putting chicken casserole on our plates with a wooden ladle. Our father's sitting at the table with his cup to the right of his plate.

Rose is playing with her fork in her high chair. As always, she's sitting next to father. “Come sit down, so everyone can eat” mother says as she finishes putting casserole on her plate. Mother always serves herself last. Don goes to his seat across from Rose. I go to my seat, which is next to Don.

Mother lights the candle in the middle of the table and grabs the casserole dish to bring it back to the counter. I glance over at Don, who's staring intently at the casserole on his porcelain plate. As I turn to look at Rose who's still playing with her fork, I hear a knock at our front door. Our father stands up and begins to walk toward the door while barely keeping on his feet. Just before my father opens the door, the knock happens again.

My father opens the door and there are three young men standing on the porch. All three of the men are wearing the same white collared shirts, white dress slacks, and brown dress shoes. One of the men is holding what looks like a few sheets of paper and a pen. They whisper something I can't make out to my father. Then the man holding the few sheets of paper and pen hands them to him.

Still stumbling, my father presses the sheets against the door and clicks his pen. He writes something on the bottom of four papers and hands them back to the man who handed the papers to my father. The men move through the doorway, heading toward me and Don. They approach, and one man holds out his palm. “You're going to come with us,” the man replies with a firm voice.

Don grabs his hand and hops down from his chair. Another fellow holds out his palm toward me. I put my small hand in his and get down from my seat. “Where are you going”? Rose squeals from her high chair. “I love you” Rose speaks softly. She's so innocent.

Rose has the cutest chubby cheeks and big blue eyes. She has short, curly light brown hair. “ I love you too” Don says to her. I wave to her and blow her a kiss. I follow Don and the man across the front doorway.

Our mother and father don't say a word. I follow Don down the wooden steps, I look at the scuffs on Don's shoes. He never took them off. “Where are we going?” Don asks, but no one answers. In the street are two model Ts parked in front of our home, one is behind the other.

This is the first time I've seen an automobile. A man who's dressed the same as the three men escorting me and Don, gets out of the wagon. Don and I approach the vehicle and the men help us into our seats. The seats are made of leather and hot from the weather.

I smile at Don, and he smiles back at me. The men split between the two model T's. “Where are we going?” I ask as the man is starting the vehicle. “Virginia” the man says.