When Will He Learn?

By
He’s 5.

“I’m a big, big girl! In a big, big world! It’s not a big, big thing if you leave me!” he sang loud and proud, while his mother videotaped.
In the background, there was a baby crying, begging for attention; jealous, that all eyes were on her older brother.

He’s 8.

“Ready or not, here i come!” I yelled, frantically searching every room, closet, and cupboard. I started by looking though my mom’s room. Nothing. Living room? Nothing. Kitchen? Nothing. There’s only one room left. My bedroom. The door creaked open. Nothing looks suspicious. Just then, I heard a muffled snicker coming from the closet. It’s him! I slowly walked up to the door, afraid of what be lurking on the inside. It swung open easily, but it was so dark, i couldn’t see anything!

“BOO!”

“Ahhh!” I screamed bloody murder!

“Ha-ha! I got you!” he taunted immaturely.

He’s 11.

His room smelled like incense mixed with chocolate axe. It was a smell that instantly reminded me of him...
I was too intoxicated by the scent that I almost forgot why i was here. I had to find a decent picture of him for my mother, because of his “phobia” of getting his picture taken.
I looked to my right and saw his gigantic wardrobe. The wood felt almost silky under my fingertips. I opened the top drawer and found a large variety of plaid boxers. I moved on to the second drawer. It was empty. I was beginning to think that this was useless. I wasn’t going to find anything in here! But I didn’t give up. I reached for the third drawer. It wouldn’t budge! I tried harder, using all the strength that a 6-year-old could possibly have. I got it open! Socks? Just socks? Then, I saw a glimpse of something shiny underneath the pile of stinky Hanes. A lighter! But that’s not all that was buried in his not-so-secret hiding place. I dug further and found something that would change my perspective on him forever. “How could he?” I thought, with tears in my eyes. What would our parents think if they found out he had cigarettes?
I had to keep this a secret.

He’s 14.

As soon as i stepped outside, all I could think was what a beautiful day. Beautiful sun, shining because God was happy today. Beautiful birds, chirping because they’ve finally found their soul mate. All spent with my beautiful family. It was almost as if this was a perfect day.

“C’mon! Were going swimming!” my dad screamed up the stairs, with so much excitement, I swear he was going to explode.

My dad’s pool was one of my favorite things in the world! It was HUGE! And it was all ours.

I was on my way to our little blue shed to change. Our shed was like my own little hideout on those days where I didn’t want anyone to find me. I loved our little blue shed. But when I got there, the first thing that I saw was him. Leaning against the chipped paint. This was unusual, because he never came to the shed. Ever. He looked shocked to see me. Very shocked... That’s when I saw it. The little white killer, in-between his two fingers. Wow. I knew he had them, but I never would of thought that I’d actually see him smoking!
“Please, please, please, don’t tell! PLEASE!” he begged.
“I...I...I...” then I ran away.
I never did tell on him. I love him.

He’s 16.

CRASHH
The noise startled me. What happened? Did something brake? But what? Was i going to be blamed for it? I had no idea. But I was going to find out.

As I was walking down the stairs, I heard my mother screaming. What was she saying? Who was she yelling at? That’s when I realized she was probably screaming at him again.

“HOW COULD YOU DO THIS? AGAIN! DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH TROUBLE YOU COULD GET IN? MARIJUANA IS ILLEGAL!”
Then it was silent. I heard my mother sigh. Loud.
“If you keep this up, do you know where you’ll end up in life? You won’t be able to get a job. You’re not gonna be able to support yourself! Is that what you want?” I could tell she was crying now. She’s been crying alot lately.
“I’m sorry mom,” he muttered.
“No. No your not! If you were really sorry, you wouldn’t still be doing it. How many times am I going to have to tell you this?”
“I won’t do it again. I promise,” he sounded sincere.
“You promise?”
He sighed. “Yes.”
But I soon learned that he was not sincere. He did it again. And again. And again.

He’s 18.

She sat in the kitchen, filled with so much anger, that you could almost see steam coming from her ears, and so much sadness, that she cried as if her entire world had come to an end.

All while he sat outside. Not caring. And red-eyed.





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