In the Family
~~~~~~~~~~
He was still a kid when it started, before he knew any words for it, and so it was impossible to speak of it. As much as he tried to be grown up, for Mother and for his little brother, he was still a kid who'd been left behind by his father. He was still a kid who desperately wanted his mother to stop crying. He was still a kid who didn't know how to refuse anything asked by the one who was the whole world.
Yes, Mother, I'll comfort you.
No, Mother, I don't mind.
Yes, Mother, I know this must be kept in the family, just between you and me.
No, Mother, don't think about him now, it's me, don't....
Yes, Mother, I'm sorry, whatever you want to do, whatever you want me to do.
No, Mother, I didn't touch him like that, I wouldn't touch him like this, I'm clean.
Yes, Mother, I know you love me and only me.
Yes, Mother, I know I'm the only one you have to love you.
Yes, Mother, I love you.
Yes... Mother... Yes.
(No.)
One thrust, one final thrust, and she falls away from him. Blood on the floor, tears on his face. He mustn't let his brother see the blood. He mustn't let his brother see him cry. He mustn't let his brother know. Too late, too late.
His brother knows?
Oh.
No, let it seem that way, it was part of it, it was what freed him to act, but this was not really for his brother's sake after all. He has been far more selfish than that. He has been far more honest than he ever could be in words. But he still cannot tell. Let someone in the family keep one last shred of innocence.
He cannot stay.
His brother is far too young to be left alone.
He cannot stay.
His brother still needs someone to take care of him.
He cannot stay.
He might try to take on a parent's role if he did.
He cannot stay.
He does not remember their father or his brother's mother, he knows only one way for a parent to love a child.
He will not, cannot stay.
He hopes his brother's wounds are deep enough to bleed themselves clean on their own.
Once, he asked a question, demanded an answer, required a promise, from the one he had promised to serve without question. It almost cost him everything he'd gained. But how could he give himself as completely as he wanted to, needed to, if obsessed by this one doubt, one fear?
"What? What do you mean? What -- How dare you even think such a thing about my mother--?!"
And then in that moment on the edge of firey rage, the Prince looked into his eyes and saw what lay behind the question he hated to ask, saw what he could never speak, saw deeper than anyone had ever seen before, looked at it without flinching or denying, without pity or disgust, only that deep sorrow, centuries-old.
The promise he needed to hear is never spoken in words, but it means much more, an unspoken answer to what cannot be spoken. It's almost enough to heal something. But his wounds never had a chance to bleed themselves clean.
The body moves beneath him in the dark, cries out. He hopes there are no tears, and he keeps himself from kissing the face. Does he do this to remember or to forget? Or is it neither, just the inescapable truth of what he is good for, what he is, underneath it all? He cries out, and in the breath before a moment's escape from himself, he hopes that, somehow, his brother isn't so messed up about this.
But he's afraid it might run in the family.
--
Finished Mar. 20th, 2005
