My brother was in the living room with our neighbor, Mark, and I walked in on them. My mom had a complete meltdown. She broke Mark’s... well, let's just say his days as a man were over. My brother, Kevin, hated me for it. He drugged me, dumped me at an abandoned construction site, and let a group of men destroy me. I died. Now, I'm awake. It’s the day it all happened. The day Kevin left the door open. This time, I’m just going to lock it. They can play all they want. 01 “Ugh… does it have to hurt? Go easy… I-I’ve never…” Hearing my brother’s voice through the door, I realize I’m back. It was this same suffocating afternoon. I was taking out the trash when I heard... noises... from the apartment next door. Mark’s apartment. I don't know why, but I leaned in. The door was cracked. I saw my brother, Kevin, pinned to the sofa by Mark. They were in a position I didn’t even know was possible. A hot rage filled my head. I thought Kevin was being attacked. Mark was, after all, my dad’s best friend of twenty years. So I screamed and threw the door open. My mom heard me and came running. When she saw them, she just... broke. She grabbed a floor lamp and started beating Mark with it. He was screaming, and by the time it was over, his future was... gone. That’s when my nightmare started. My mom blamed me for everything. “If you were a better sister, if you’d watched him, would that pervert have targeted him?!” They pulled me out of school. They made me take Kevin to therapy. Eventually, the therapists "fixed" him. He could supposedly "react" to women again. Everything seemed to go back to normal. But Kevin never, ever forgave me. He put something in my drink. He stuffed me in a canvas bag and left me on a pile of rubble. That day… My fingernails were all torn out. I heard my own bones snap. Fists, cigarette butts, beer bottles… I was a broken doll, and they tore me apart. I died in agony. As my vision faded, I saw Kevin standing a few feet away, filming it on his phone. “You bitch,” he hissed. “You ruined my life. You deserve this.” After I died, my mother shed a few tears. Then she sighed. “That girl was just born bad. I’ve already lost her; I can’t lose your brother, too.” Because I "died dirty," they said I brought shame to the family. They wouldn't even bury me. My mom cashed in the small life insurance policy I’d paid for from my part-time job—at a 70% loss—and used the money to buy Kevin’s way into some scam online college. “Aah… Mark… please…” “Relax, baby. You’ll learn to love it…” The sounds from the apartment yank me back to the present. I step forward. I quietly reach for the handle. I gently push the door shut until I hear it click. This time, my dear brother, you can leave that door as wide open as you want. 02 I just get back to our apartment when my mom twists my ear, hard. “Sarah! Where the hell were you? Taking out the trash or trying to get hit by a car? You’re so damn lazy!” Her eyes are full of disgust. “What are you standing there for?” She shoves me. “Go make dinner! Your brother is a growing boy. If he’s hungry, I’ll skin you alive!” On the sofa, my dad, Mike, is smoking, his feet up on the table. He blows a cloud of smoke in my face as I pass. “Told you, girls don't need college. Wastes time. My buddy Leo’s daughter dropped out, works in a factory, sends him three grand a month! Just got her engaged. Twenty grand, cash. That’s a good daughter.” I don’t listen. I go to the kitchen. On the cutting board is a mountain of bright red habanero peppers. My brother loves spicy food. I’m violently allergic. If the juice touches my skin, I break out in welts. But in this house, there has never, not once, been a meal I could eat without pain. I tried to protest, once. My mom just laughed. “Allergic? You’re just dramatic. Good. Maybe you’ll stop eating. You’re fat as a pig.” I look down at my arms. My wrist bones stick out. I’m five-foot-one and ninety pounds. I think about what I just saw. Mark is a gym teacher. He’s all muscle. My brother… he’s a twig. His first time... he’s probably in a lot of pain. He’s probably torn. A terrible, wonderful idea starts to grow in my mind. I can't stop the smile from spreading across my face. You like it spicy, do you, Kevin? Then sister is going to cook you a meal you will never, ever forget. I turn on the tap, pull on a pair of rubber gloves, and grab a handful of peppers three times bigger than usual. The air in the kitchen is already starting to burn. 03 Because no one interrupted him, Kevin doesn't get home until 7 PM. We’re all waiting at the table. He’s walking... strangely. His legs are stiff, his knees bent. Every step looks like agony. My mom sees him and shoots out of her chair. “My baby! What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” “N-nothing… I’m fine.” He waves her off, his voice weak. “I just… I fell.” “You fell?!” Mom’s voice goes up an octave. “Where? Let me see! Is it bad?” She lunges for his pants, trying to check him right there. Kevin flinches back, which clearly pulls at the... injury. He sucks in a breath, and fresh sweat pops out on his forehead. He’s humiliated. “Mom, stop! I’m not a baby! Get off me!” She’s offended. “You’ll always be my baby! I’ve seen every part of you! Now let me see if you’re hurt!” “It’s fine! Really! It doesn't even hurt!” “Really?” she says, still eyeing his ass. “Really! See?” To prove it, Kevin grits his teeth and does two tiny, agonizing hops. His face twitches, and he quickly changes the subject. “I’m starving, Mom. Let’s just eat!” That works. “Yes, yes! My poor boy! We have to eat!” She pulls him to his chair and shoves him down onto the hard wood. I watch his whole body go rigid. He tries to shift his weight, balancing on the absolute edge of the chair, his legs taking most of his weight. Mom, oblivious, starts piling his plate high. “Here, baby, your favorite spicy stir-fry! I told Sarah to put in extra habaneros! And the spicy sausage! Eat! It’s all extra hot tonight!” Kevin stares at the mountain of food. His hand is shaking. He takes one, slow, agonizing bite. He swallows, his throat working. The slower he eats, the more Mom piles on. “What’s wrong? You don't like it? Is it where you fell? Does it hurt?” He just shakes his head, forcing the food down. I sit across from him, quietly eating my plain white rice, hiding my smile behind the rim of my bowl. 04 Later, I'm washing dishes when the doorbell rings. It's a delivery. I open the bag. Inside is an education. A tube of prescription-strength ointment for… tears. A bottle of high-end lube. And a rather uniquely-shaped... toy. The note says: [Use this to practice. It’ll get easier. –M] Mark is just so thoughtful. I’m putting things back when Kevin shuffles out, one hand on his butt. He glares at me. “Sarah! Who said you could touch my stuff? You're such a bitch!” He snatches the bag and limps back to his room, slamming the door. I have to admit, the ointment must be good. Kevin is "recovered" in no time. Now he’s over at Mark’s every day, "working on his core strength." My parents are thrilled. My mom just keeps making him stews and muttering about how muscular he’s getting, even as I watch the new, purple-red hickeys appear on his neck. This goes on for a month. And then, my mom finally finds it. In the back of the bathroom cabinet, she finds the half-empty bottle of lube and the... toy. She explodes.
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