“You did this before, you can do it again,” I repeated to myself. I was almost to the end and I was just about to cry. If I did not finish this race in first place, I would not be allowed out of my room for two weeks unless it was to go to school, practice or to eat. My father would not speak to me and would instruct everyone else in my family not to talk to me either. Though my mother would listen to him without a doubt, my brother never did. He just didn’t entirely flaunt it, he never totally gave up on me. Passing me notes, whispering behind my father’s back, coming to see me at lunch just so we could talk normally.
The day I lost him was the most challenging day of my life. I never thought about what life would be like without my brother because I never considered it would be a possibility. He was only two years older than me and was a constant present in my life. His sudden disappearance rocked my world and my parents seemed to think nothing of it. But now he was gone, I was not going to win any more races and I would leave home as soon as I turned 18. I would not make it a day longer in that tragic house full of lies and suspicion. I would live my life for my brother and hope he would come back to me.