BROKEN SILENCE

PROLOGUE

All my life I’ve never been the first choice, the second child, the second best student, the one left out between my two friends and on top of all these I have depression paired with anxiety disorder, not your regular anxiety disorder, have you ever been stuck in your head, unable to breathe with no way out or being happy for one minute and suddenly you’re sad for no reason and just want to die?

The best part is that I don’t even have a trigger nor do I have to be triggered. It just happens.

My parents never really noticed. They just see me as an embarrassment to them. They think I’m throwing a tantrum when I suddenly freeze not knowing I was struggling for air and couldn’t breathe, or jealous when I refuse to go to my brother’s game not realizing that loud, crowded places suffocate and make me feel surrounded and small, or lazy when I didn't come out of my room for days, completely unaware that I was badly depressed and just wanted peace—even if it meant I never woke up again.

But they just don’t care, all that matters is their reputation and their perfect son.

So you can imagine their reaction when I told them that my brother, their perfect son Mark, has been sexually molesting me.

Yeah, I lied when I said I didn't have a trigger. Mark is my trigger. He caused all these things I'm going through.

It all started in my senior year during the final semester of high school.

I was an introvert—the silent loner kind of introvert, the kind that always walked with her hood up, earphones plugged in and head down, the kind that never went to parties, had only two friends, the kind that wastes her teenage years in her room doing absolutely nothing but enjoying her own company or at the library, but at least I was always smiley, happy and that was all that mattered.

I was never really close to my brother, nor did we ever get along. It never really bothered me—maybe because he was ten years older than me, or maybe because I just loved being by myself. I don't know, and I really never cared, because at least I was happy. And to think I always loved and respected him regardless of anything.

Until that night.

He had just gotten back from college that day. I was home alone because it was a Friday night, which meant date night for my parents. I was in bed watching a movie when he walked in. I thought he just wanted to ask me about my day or how I was feeling as usual. But what happened over the next few hours went by like a flash and was all blurred out. Still, I remember the words he said afterward, and I certainly still hear them from time to time:

“No one will believe you”

“You’re nothing but a slut”

“You think mom and dad will believe you over me?”

“You should happy I helped you out, cause no one would ever want a weirdo like you”………

Turns out he was right because when I told my parents what happened the next day they lost it. Mom called me a liar, said she knew I’ve always been jealous of my brother but didn’t expect me to try to deface him like this.

My dad slapped me, called me a w***e, slut.. and to crown it all, I was grounded for a week.

When I was walking up to my room, Mark smirked at me, mouthing, I told you.

Throughout the week I was grounded—and for about three days after—I didn't go downstairs at all. Not even to eat. And nobody checked on me. Not even once.

They simply didn't care..………