2011 Submissions:
Because It Plays My Favorite Song
by Rebekah
Chapter Three
You never realize how numbing television can be until you actually want to be numb. Although I wasn't sure if you could really classify home movies as television. And these did anything but numb me. They should have made me feel sad or anger. And they did, but more than that, they made me feel invigorated, alive.
I had plenty of home videos of us to choose from to watch. The time we were at the national park, playing soccer in the backyard or even our first visit to the ocean -- well our first once we were old enough to realize what the ocean was and how cool it could be.
And there were the ones that were just for my eyes and me only. Some were short, sweet and heartfelt. Others were just long enough to get me on the edge of my seat and make me hot and bothered. Then there were even more that got me through a lot of long, horny nights. I hated and loved him equally for those.
Those were just the private messages that if our parents found out...
Needless to say, I kept them well hidden.
I needed to remember to password protect the ones on my computer.
I was brought out of my thoughts when I heard our high-pitched laughter fill the room. I couldn't help but smile to myself. It had been a great day.
"I would just like to state for the record that Tay is a major dorkyhead," Zac grinned into the camera. "But because he's my brother I still love him. I always will."
"I still love you too, Zac," I whispered.
"We all do." I jumped when I heard the voice, not realizing my mother had come into the room. "You should go to bed soon," she encouraged. I knew that tone. It was a concerned tone that she tried to hide by making whatever she said seem like a suggestion.
"I plan to," I responded without much more acknowledgement that she was there. I knew where this conversation could lead and we'd had the same talk too many times. Way too many times. I didn't want to add one more to the list. But when I heard her sigh I knew it was unavoidable.
"Honey you have to stop doing this to yourself."
"Just one more time," I mumbled. She stood for a few moments as if debating on what else to say. Eventually she just touched my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze and left. I hated that she worried. I hated that she was in pain too. I hated that I couldn't take it away, probably like she wished she could take mine away. Although we had both lost someone significant in our lives -- her son, my brother -- she just still would never understand my loss. I wished I could find comfort in her, but I couldn't. She just wouldn't understand. She couldn't. I hadn't only lost my brother. I had lost so much more.
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