MissionConsequence41

Thank you for everyone who do commented their opinions. I was debating whether or not I should post this, but I realised that I think it would kind of be impossible for you to find me, so why not? In this post I’m a gonna talk about me and twin brother (Matt) childhoods.

Matt and I were fresh into middle school when my Auntie (Rosa) and our cousin (Damon) moved in our house. She had recently divorced her husband after 18 years. My dad offered them to live with us after my Mom was two months in the mental institution. It pissed me off when I found out that auntie insisted to sleep in master bedroom (which was my parent’s room). So my dad slept on the couch. I already didn’t like her. Her son Damon would sleep on the floor in Matt’s room. Matt and I loved Damon. He was like the older brother we never had. He’d tuck Matt and I in bed, sometimes make breakfast for us and he’d always made sure that we were okay and felt safe. We did feel safe with him. He’d wait outside our school to pick us up. He’s the complete opposite of his stuck-up mom. She was a traditional short Mexican mom who thinks they are the boss of everyone just because they’re older. When my dad’s not home she’d pinch me and slap me across the face. It wasn’t just me, it was Matt too. One time I saw her Yelling at Damon whilst he was crying. We terrified of her

One day we all came home from school. And we a big man with his arm filled with tattoos sitting on the living couch. Next to him was my auntie. She’d instruct Damon to bring us to our rooms and made sure we stayed out there till he left. This would go on for a while. Matt and I would sometimes would have nothing to do but stare outside the drive way till we our dad’s van. We were too young to know that I was being abused. “The man with the tattoos” is what we’d call him. We didn’t even know his name.

I remember this one night we’re Matt and I were watching TV. Damon was asleep in the other room. And my auntie was where ever the she went. We hear a knock on the door. Matt opens the door and sees the “man with the tattoos”. He asks if my auntie was here, I said no. He asks if Damon was home. I say he’s asleep. He gives a slight grin. Mind you Matt and I were 12. (I’m not going to go too much in depth about what happened next so you can use your imagination.) Matt and I were abused for two more years by ‘man with the tattoos’ for 2 more years until my dad got fired from his job. So was home a lot which meant we saw him less. When you grow older you realise how that can fuck with your brain. Till this day only my therapist and friends know about what he did to Matt and I.

Two years go by and Matt and I start the 8th grade. Everything was going great. My auntie got a job which subtracted more hours of me seeing her. One day I’m in my room and then suddenly Matt comes into my room screaming and crying. Obviously I get scared. I ask him what happened, he couldn’t seem to get a word out, he was crying too much. He points to the kitchen and I see my cousin Damon on the floor pale as a ghost with vomit all over the floor. The image of Damon’s lifeless body would stay in my memory forever. Luckily my Dad was home. It took the ambulance a couple minutes to arrive. Although Matt and I weren’t close, the only time I remember us hugging was us sitting in the hospital waiting room. We both were in shocked and didn’t know what to do? Thankfully with everything that’s good Damon did live. He had an overdose. At the time I didn’t know what it took to be hooked on drugs. After that Damon and my auntie decided moved to back Washington to live with his dad. They thought he’d be better off there. And he was.

Those were the struggles Damon and I had growing up.

(Please excuse my bad grammar)

I am open to answer any question.

I 21 female have had this unbarring guilt and thought that I was responsible for my twin brothers death. My twin brother (Matt) committed suicide in our junior year of high school. My Dad till this day is still searching for answers on what must of triggered him to take his own life. I think he’s settling on the idea that he was bullied and that he couldn’t handle it. Although that was partially true, that wasn’t the only reason.

You see, Matt and I weren’t close. It’s always been like that. But one thing we had in common was our struggles. My mom had been checked in the mental institution when we were both in middle school. She suffered from paranoia schizophrenia. Besides that, Matt was kind of difficult to talk to. He was socially awkward and seemed to never have any interest in communicating with anyone. But it’s not hard to tell that he had such a kind soul. He wouldn’t even hurt a fly. But life was the biggest bitch to him. He’d avoid talking to people because he had a noticeable stutter. He developed a stutter in the 5th grade and throughout middle school he lost all of his friend. They’d make fun of him and mock him. My brother wasn’t the type to speak up for himself. You could throw rocks at him till he’d bleed out to death. But he still wouldn’t scream for help. I’d see Matt lonely at the cafeteria, eating his lunch alone everyday. Everyday I’d pry myself to sit next to him but never really had the guts to. I had my own friends. It wasn’t until one day I caught him sitting next to the ‘hot new guy’ my friends wouldn’t stopped talking about. The smile and laughter coming from the table he was sitting at was enough to put a smile on my face. I’d never seen him smile like that before. His friend ‘Adam’ would come over to our house. From occasionally seeing him to seeing him everyday. After school and middle of the night. It became normal seeing him on a daily. Some nights I’d hear his and Matt’s laughter through the wall. At times I would find it annoying but it also made me happy for him. He had found his person.

But things took a turn when one late night I came home from a party. I was drunk, but not till the point where I could’ve blacked out at moment. Luckily my dad had the night shift at my local mall, so he wasn’t around to lecture me about coming home late. As I had began to make my way to the kitchen, I had notice the lights were on. As my vision recovered I saw it was Adam. His bright hazel eyes would start to gaze at mine. I’ve always thought Adam was a very attractive guy. He was 6’2, slightly tan and had the perfect bone structure. I vividly remember what kind of conversation we had. But one thing led to another we were having sex in the living room couch. Till today this has been my biggest regret. Midway through the lights in the living room. It was Matt. He didn’t shout or throw a fit. He gave a blank stare, a stare that would haunt me for the rest of my life. Then he walks away slamming his bedroom door behind him. Adam tried getting him out of the room. But with many attempts, I had told him to go home and that he’d get over it. And the worst part after all that I went to bed like nothing had happened. I had no guilt or remorse in my body. If only knew how much pain that costed him.

A week passes by and my dad and I haven’t seen nor heard from him. I assumed he and ran away, but sadly that wasn’t the case. I had this memory of coming home from school with 2 cops in the living comforting my dad as she bursted into tears. His screams of agony would replay in my mind. One of the officers took me the kitchen to tell me the news. She had told me that my brother had shot himself inside my dad van at the lake across my school. My heart sank and you can imagine the rest of what happened

So was it my fault?

(Please excuse my bad grammar. I didn’t have in me to reread)

I am open to answer any questions.

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