I wait for it.
For the explosion, the fury and the storm I know is coming. I even prepared myself for everything.
Because that’s how my brother is. A storm with a name, whose love is built from protection and punishment. Who breaks bones for glances and sets cities on fire for slights. And I… I handed myself to the man Judas hated.
I wait for the first c***k, yells and shouts and poisonous words. As if I’m waiting for the thunder to break the sky before the rain swallows everything.
But it never comes.
Not the yelling. Not the accusations or even his name.
Just sick silence.
The kind that stretches too long and feels like I’m drowning in a room full of air. And that’s worse, so much f*****g worse. Because if eh doesn’t say anything, it means he doesn’t know where to start.
I feel
