Once upon a time almost nine months ago he asked me to run away with him. At the time I was angry, hurt, and tired so very tired. So I told him “Yes I will.” He didn’t share the same feelings as me though. He was angry so he wanted to cause them pain and what better way to do it than to take away their children. We had fought with our parents a fight that led to us storming out of the house into the cool autumn air where we would remain until they called for us.

We went to them and had dinner in a silence not one of us could bring ourselves to break. We lived in a strange bubble of awkward silence for weeks that slowly faded as mine, my mother’s, and my father’s anger and hurt faded. My brother’s anger didn’t fade though, it stayed strong like an everlasting flame that would inevitably consume him. I formally apologized to them, our parents, and after he approached me asking the same question as before the one I had forgotten about.

“Will you run away with me? I almost have everything ready,” he had questioned me.

I  hesitated before telling him “L-let me think about it and I’ll get back to you”. At my answer though he roughly grabbed my arms and I feared he would hurt me before our mother called me help her cook. Before I could escape though he forced me to swear not to tell about the plan I may or may have been a part of.

A few more months passed and I did everything in my power not to be left alone with him. With time I had realized running away was not a solution and that it would only hurt everyone involved. It shouldn’t have taken the death of my father to realize that but it did. Then he caught me alone to ask the question I had been dreading.

“Will you run away with me?”

That time I didn’t hesitate I told him, “No,” and tried to convince him to stay and forgive our parents. His response was words that still hurt me to this day. That was the last time I saw my brother and while I don’t regret telling him no I wish I could’ve convinced him to stay.