Different colored minds

The car radio

PAMELA POV

Im sitting at the counter for breakfast trying to scarf down my food before my brother can get out of the shower. I hear him bang at the pipes pleading for the water to stay hot.
I step into the bathroom. My parents have finally decided I'm allowed to wear make up. The only things I apply are mascara blush and concealer.
I smile watching my face light up in the mirror. I pull the brush through my hair as I hear the creaking of wood upstairs. My mom is in her bathroom getting ready too. I just have to move a little faster so that I can get to my room before he emerges from the bathroom. My mom says she'll drive us to school today. I hate the bus so I'm glad she will. Every morning my brother makes us late because he doesn't want to get up in the mornings.
"Kids! Come on, we gotta go!" I can hear my mom shout from her room. I brush my teeth furiously. I have to get a move on.
Finally I get myself into the car next to my mom. We're waiting on my brother. This could take a while. My mom is tapping her foot, her hand nervously flipping through the stations on the radio.
She gives a big sigh.
"I'll try and see what he's up to," my mom closes the car door as she runs back into the house. I take a deep breath. My mom just wants to get to work on time—
I hear him slam the front door to the house, storming towards the car. My mom soon opens the door to the house and walks after him towards the car angrily. I see her clench her fists just before opening the door to the front and sliding in.
My brother slumps into the back.
"Can you turn down the radio, it's too loud," he begins. My foot starts pumping nervously. The music is helping calm me down but I won't say anything. I don't want him to blow a fuse. my mom takes a deep breath and turns down the music a few notches. We've started moving now. I look out of the window hoping in vain that today is a peaceful ride in the car. My mom turns a corner, her foot slowly pressing down on the gas.
"Can you turn it down, it's still too loud," he continues. His knee is pressing Inter he back of my chair. my mom twists the knob down a little more. I can hear the singer faintly in the distance straining despite the lack of volume.
"It's still too loud, turn it down," he complains. my mom takes one look towards the back then turns it down another notch. The volume is at 2.
The houses bleed by. My stomach is in knots. My throat is dry.
"It's still too loud, turn it down," my brother shouts.
I freeze. No. Not now. Not first thing in the morning.
"No," my mom says quietly.
"What?"
"No, it's fine as it is," my mother's voice is becoming more confident.
"This is stupid. Why can't you just turn it off? It's not even good music anyways. My gosh." He raises his voice. The noise is hurting my ears.
"Don't say stupid,"
"Why not? It is stupid. It sounds awful. I don't know why you guys would even want to listen to this. Turn it down."
"No," my mom's voice is rising too.
"Turn it down," my brother commands.
"Stop being stupid and turn it off!" I can feel the anger in his words. This is not good. He's stronger than my mom and he's stronger than me.
My mother's hand reaches towards the volume and then to my surprise she cranks it all the way up. The song explodes out of the stereo system for all of five seconds before my brother lunges into the front to smash it off.
"Sit down!" Her arm reaches out and blocks his path. His chest rebounds— he's now sitting down in the back of the car.
"Fine, then I'm leaving!" And before either of us can do another thing I hear the click of a seatbelt, hear the door swing open in the wind, and feel the weight of my brother's body leaving the vehicle— at 35 miles per hour. I watch in horror as he rolls onto the grass in the distance.
My mother slows down the car.
"Call your dad, tell him I need him to grab your brother," her hand holds out her phone for me shakily.
The car is stopped before I can finish dialing and start the call. My mom throws the car in park then slams the door behind her.
"Get in the car!" She's yelling worse than I've heard in a while.
"No! I will not!"
"I'm already late for work. You're making all of us late, get in the car."
"No!"
"Then you can just wait for your father to get here," she walks back to the car. My dad's sleepy voice is on the other end of the phone.
"Go pick up your son he's on the lawn next to the murphys. I'm late for work," she states in an exhausted way and then she hangs up.
For the next thirty minutes my mom and I listen to the radio at high volume.
I have to wait all day to find out if my brother ran away. If my brother is hurt. If my dad is alright. If my mom got to work. Everything. And my teachers keep commenting on how I'm not concentrating in class. Maybe if they cared more about me than their class they might realize something is wrong. But they don't. And the whole day passes before I can find out what happened to my family.

The house feels cold when I come home. I know this isn't okay. He pulls this shit all the time. I'm so scared of my brother. I'm so scared of him hurting us. I'm so scared of him yelling. I'm so scared of what will happen. But more than that I'm scared he won't live through this.
My father is too harsh. My mother is too kind. And I am a statue who wants to die. Funny how much I'd rather my brother live than me.
"Pamela!" It's my fathers voice. It's coming from the living room. My parents are watching tv. "Come join us!"
I don't see my brother.
"He's in his room," my mom States. I clench my fists and then sit down. My mom wraps her arms around me. There's a sore lump in the back of my throat. None of this is okay.