Dear Caroline,
There were many things that I have never experienced in my short life that I wish could come to me. I have never ridden a roller coaster, or fine dined with fresh seafood on my plate, and I have never been able to keep a stable relationship. I don't know if it's because of my inability to sustain my urge to drink a shot of whiskey with a few large puffs of smoke from a cigarette. Even when we were little, I could never get along with other people. The social anxiety was really bad for a time if I remember correctly.
I remember when you were just a baby, maybe only a few months old when I first met you. You were tiny, and practically able to fit in the palm of my hand. You loved anything that moved, and would often chew on the cat’s tail when it got close enough to grasp. You were also a big fan of the color yellow, and how it matched you perfectly. You loved mashed peaches and bananas, and you would offer me a bite with your messy face bright with glee.
Your fifth birthday is when you got your first set of Tinkerbell Walkie Talkies that I bought with my own money. It was worth the labor when seeing your smile as you ripped the wrapping paper from the cardboard box. You were quite the reader, always having your nose in a book, reading to me while I was in timeout. Those dark times were brightened with you reading Dr. Seuss, and your warmth was given to me through your voice. I loved you for that… and so much more.
Your obsession with bubbles became more apparent when you reached eight years old. The day I asked you what you wanted for Christmas is still in my memory, with you saying you want all the bubbles in the world. You wanted bubbles, big and small. The cheap ones and expensive ones, colored ones and clear ones. All the bubbles in the world. I couldn’t do such a thing back then, but I definitely tried, using what little money and connections I had to get you as many bubbles as possible. You received over 30 containers filled with bubbles, even scented ones that smelled like grape and bubble gum. Your favorite.
I wanted to tell you so many times about how much I truly loved you, even if I wasn’t able to be there all the time for you. I even made sure that I was the one to receive punishments in the punishment room. I made sure to cover my mouth so that you couldn’t hear my cries and muffled screams. Even with all those years of pain and pleasure, I made sure to tell you that me and mommy were just playing. One on one time with mother and her son. I made sure to keep you from finding out those horrible things that happened behind the locked door.
I remember you were always instructed to stay in your room while mommy dealt with me, but I accidentally let out a cry. I didn’t mean to, but it was too late to turn back now. Mommy also just happened to forget to lock the door, but she didn’t mind if you saw. She in fact wanted you to see, to see what your mother was forcing your older brother to do all those years in a tiny closet. You were 11 then, smart enough to know what was going on. I remember the face you made, of shock and dismay until you ran away while mother continued to moan and smile at you like she was performing a live show.
I wasn’t able to leave the room after that, not able to chase after you and explain why I did it, but mommy kept me there, turning the lights off, locking the door, blaming me for making you run away. I was in there for 6 days until help came, every day mommy was taunting me about you, that you died, you hated me for raping her mommy, that you wanted me to die. Every night I dreamt of you, hand in hand with a demon in the closet. I cried, begged, fell to my knees to get you not to go with it, but you glared at me with disgust, and evaporated into the darkness while chains prevented me from trying to get to you.
But in the end, I couldn’t save you… the police only found me after you were reported missing after not coming to school. Mother died of a drug overdose the day before the police came, and you were nowhere to be seen. It was only a few days later that they found your body in the river. The suspected you tried to avoid a car and fell into the river.
I didn’t believe it when they told me you were dead. I blamed it all on myself for crying out, for making that one noise that caused you to look. If only I kept it in, biting my tongue or gagging myself with my shirt would have prevented me from doing so, but I couldn’t… I can’t get your face out of my head.
I am mentally handicapped, but that didn’t stop the criticism from other people who know what happened to you. Your friends recognize me after years, blaming me for your death. They're right, you know. I’m writing this final note to you, just to ease my pain just a little bit before I go. I know that you will never read it, and that I will no be able to see you in heaven, but my final wish to God, is that he tell you how much I truly love you, and that I only wished I could have stayed with you longer. I hope he hears me within my final breath.
I love you, Caroline.
Forever
~Your big brother
