I Don't Know

July 6, 2016
By writergirl144 SILVER, Bedford, Massachusetts
writergirl144 SILVER, Bedford, Massachusetts
7 articles 8 photos 8 comments

He left in the morning. I knew because he woke me up when he slammed the door. I was still groggy when I looked through the window and saw his beat up car drive out the driveway. The tires screeched, and exhaust poured out.

I guess I should’ve seen it coming. He was always fighting with my parents and when he wasn’t fighting, he was out with one of his girlfriends. He had many.

Something happened. I don’t know what, but it happened when I was in middle school.

I specifically remember one day, when he came home from school and Mom wanted to talk to him about something. I was in the bathroom, wishing my braces would magically disappear. All of the sudden I heard a crash.

I ran downstairs and saw one of Mom’s china plates smashed into pieces. He was looking at mom with the fiercest look in his eyes and Mom seemed terrified.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

He briefly looked at me, then looked at Mom.

“Nothing,” he muttered, and left, slamming the door behind him. He was really good at that.

“Are you okay?” I asked Mom. Mom slowly nodded and began to sweep up the destroyed plate.

I stood there for a little and then quickly retreated to my room.

The fights didn’t stop there. One time there was a screaming match between him and Dad. I think all of the neighbors heard them.

It was when I was a freshman in high school. He just got his license and Dad wouldn’t let him go out for some reason.

“I hate this family, you know that?” He screamed.

“Don’t you ever say that again, we give you food and a roof,” my dad yelled back.

“Oh, gee, I’m so grateful! Why don’t you tell her what’s really going on?” He said. I guess he noticed me eavesdropping. Dad swiveled his head towards me and stared.

“What do you mean?” I said. My brother bore his eyes into mine and shook his head. He left and slammed the door. Again.

My father stood there watching him leave.

“He’s just having a hard time right now,” my dad calculatedly explained. I nodded my head and made my way upstairs.

The fights continued, and when there were no fights, he wasn’t home.

I don’t know if he’s coming back. I don’t know why he left. I don’t know a lot of things.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.


MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!