Bye Bye Birdie

March 23, 2012
By Mi-Ish-Awzum GOLD, Beirut, Other
Mi-Ish-Awzum GOLD, Beirut, Other
14 articles 0 photos 0 comments

It was perfect: my parents were going shopping for a few hours, and the house was mine. It was in middle of the afternoon, just the right timing to start gaming and stuff, and they were ready to go. Inside, I was jumping for joy, yelling, “Yes! Time to play!” though on the outside, I had my poker face on and was just standing there, as motionless as a board. My parents said their good-byes and I said mine so, after that, I watched as they opened the door and then shut it. I beamed for a second, and then my smile faded when I remembered one crucial fact: I wasn’t an only child.

I face-palmed myself, and turned around to face my 8-year-old brother, Shady. He was playing on the round carpet in the living room, crashing action figures into each other and making sound effects that were so loud that they completely blocked out the sound of the television. As I passed by him to sit on the coach, he began staring at me with his dead brown eyes. At first, it was just plain annoying, but then, it started to creep me out. Finally, after a short awkward moment, I broke the silence and asked him, slightly raising my eyebrow, “Why are you staring at me?”

My question was answered with silence, as if the silence was able to explain to me why he was just gazing at me like that. The silence told me nothing, as I expected, and just left me there wondering. A few seconds later, I realized I was still standing in my spot, and that my butt wasn’t planted in the couch, so I backed away slowly, still keeping eye contact with my brother, and then I collapsed on the super comfy sofa. I began to observe him from head to toe, checking if there was something wrong with him, but he was alright. His short, brown hair came above his gaping eyes, which refused to look at his small nose and little, rosy lips. His ears, hidden by his hair, were listening to the silence that surrounded us. He was wearing a blue tee and plaid shorts. In the light, his white skin shone, reflecting the light. Despite his cute harmless appearance, I knew he was the devil in disguise.

At last, my gaze switched from my brother’s eyes to the television. As I picked up the remote, he snapped out of his trance then yelled, “No! Don’t change the channel!” Giving him a confused look, I asked, “Why?”
-‘Cause I’m watching…
-No, you’re not! You’re playing with your toys!
-Yeah I am! You just weren’t paying attention!
-Yes I was! And you were staring at me anyways!
-Yeah, so?
-So I have the right to change the channel! Besides that, why were you staring at me?

Suddenly, he went silent. He mimed that he had a key to lock his mouth and he threw that key away after shutting his mouth up. “Yes, I won and you lost!” I announced happily, “Now I can watch TV!” Although I had been victorious in changing the channel, I still felt that something was up. All of a sudden, Shady uttered darkly, “Call Mom now.”

I shook my head involuntarily, saying, “No way. I know you just wanna tell on me and get me in trouble.” Shady just blinked, and repeated the same phrase, as if I haven’t said anything at all, “Call Mom now.” Shaking my head again, I replied, confused, “Didn’t you hear me say no? N. O. No!” He was starting to turn red with aggravation and he yelled at me, as if he was my master and I was his defiant puppy, “If you don’t call Mom, I’ll kill you!” I snickered slightly, taking this all as a joke, for I could easily beat him up, and answered, “Yeah, as if I’m going to listen to you, bro.” Then, when I least expected it, he pounced at me. He had finally lost it… he had lost his sanity.

He scratched deep into my skin with his long, uncut nails, like a tiger clawing its prey. In defense, I kicked him in the stomach and ran inside the bathroom. He was right on my tail, and was about to attack me again, but I locked the door the minute I entered the bathroom and I sat on the toilet. My arms were red and bloody (mostly red) since Shady had scratched them as if they were scratching posts. Other than the feeling of pain, I heard the sound of the door thumping violently. It was like a horror movie: I was the victim and my own little brother was the monster, but this wasn’t a movie. It was reality.

As I was camping in the bathroom, I heard Shady shrieking repetitively, “Call Mom now!” His voice was a bit raspy, probably from all that shouting, but, yet, he was still screaming at the top of his lungs. “What’s wrong with him today?” I whispered to myself, considering all the possibilities. Maybe he had too much sugar. Maybe I pushed it a little too much. Maybe he lost his mind. Maybe I was too stupid to realize that I could’ve avoided this by just doing what he wants. But no, I had to win the argument and I had to change the channel. What did I achieve by doing this? Nothing. All I had gotten was a bunch of new cuts to heal.
When I thought about my cuts, I decided to wash them with water to lessen the redness and bloodiness. While the icy cold water rushed down my arms, relief struck me for the first time tonight, until I realized something unusual: it was quiet.
Someway, somehow, he had been silenced. Then I noticed that the door wasn’t being banged. Perhaps he had given up and had retired to the living room, but it was too quiet. I suspected a trap; however I was willing to take chances. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to call Mom and Dad and let them know that Shady has gone rogue. The phone was in my parents’ room, and their room is the last room in the hallway, but if Shady heard me, he’ll murder me. I took a glimpse of myself in the mirror so I’d remember the way I looked before I died. I ruffled my caramel hair, looking myself in my honey-green eyes. They dimmed with fear, and my cheeks had their color drained from them, leaving my face pale. When I saw myself this way, I became blue, but I was already yellow. I had the two of the three primary colors, but I lacked red. I needed to lose those other two colors and get red, so that I could fearlessly rush to my parents’ room and get the phone. This was hard, but it wasn’t Mission Impossible.
I thought about how I easily got beaten up by my little bro, so then I realized I was being yellow. I inflamed at the fact that I, Aigle, was being a personal punching bag (or scratching post) to my inferior sibling. I was the one who does what he wants. I was the one who gave orders. I was the one who was stronger. I was the one who was a born leader. Most importantly, I was the one who was older. Suddenly, I wasn’t so yellow and blue anymore. I was red, filled with hatred and rage, and I was going to get the phone.
Slowly, I turned the lock, so that it won’t click and awaken Shady. Fortunately, it didn’t click and I was able to sneak out of the bathroom then down the hallway to my parents’ bedroom. When I made it there, I went into the darkness and tiptoed to the phone. Just as I picked it up, it made a very noisy beep. Adrenaline flashed through my body, and I began to panic. I hurried under the bed, making sure that my whole body was tucked underneath a blanket of darkness. At that same moment, I took notice of a blood-curdling screech, saying, “I’ll kill you!” Shady stood at the door, searching for any sign of life, “I know you’re here, Aigle. I’m not deaf, you idiot.” Although I was very tempted to get out there and strangle that weasel, I couldn’t since I probably won’t make it. He’d murder me mercilessly, that little criminal, for he wouldn’t care any less if he knew that he had to go to my funeral early, earlier than the 50 to 60 years I had to live on this planet. In my anger, I took off my blanket of darkness, escaped from under the bed, and sprinted to the bathroom, phone in hand. Involuntarily, I locked the door and began dialing my mom’s number. I had put my finger on the speaker so that no beeps were listened to. As soon as the phone began ringing, Shady picked up the other line. I hung up the phone and sighed. This is going to take forever.
Every time I would hang up the phone, Shady would go to the bathroom door and begin listening to any sound of the phone being used, so every time I would dial, he would rush to the other line and pick it up. I have to hang up every time for if I didn’t, Shady would start crying into the phone, pretending that I had tortured him when they were out, while it was actually the other way around. I’m trapped in the bathroom now, and I can’t get out, even if I had a phone to call Mom with. After many trials, I realized that the phone calls were no use because Mom wouldn’t answer. As soon as I was considering giving up, the phone rang.
I jumped for joy, cheering and laughing, and I answered the phone. “Hello?” I said, smiling. No one replied, so I asked again, my smile fading, “Hello? Anybody there?” No one answered, and I was starting to get frightened. In no later than a second, the door crashed and fell on me. The door had an impossible weight, almost as if it was an anvil, and it was crushing me. My bones were breaking, for I could hear them cracking, and pain was added to my fear. My world was going black and I was beginning to see the light. The last thing I heard before my soul had left my body was, “Bye bye, birdie.”

The author's comments:
Based on personal experience with my crazy bro -.-

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