A Different Kind of Outsider

Another Shepard

August 18th, 1965

Screams called out from the living room and managed to make their way through my door. My mom and step dad seemed to be going at it once more. I hated it. They were hardly civil with one another unless either of them was high or drunk. I preferred those days, I especially liked when they disappeared for a couple days. The house usually stayed pretty quiet on those days, at least if Tim and Angela didn't start going at it. It was almost like there was never a moments peace unless I was home alone. Don't get me wrong, I loved my siblings but at the same time, they could be so draining. Some days it felt like everything was. A world wind of sounds overwhelming my senses. It made me just want to rip the skin off my bones and scrub what remained till it was raw.

I scooted further back into my fort as someone threw a bottle against the wall. Suspicion laid on my step dad but it wouldn't put it past my Ma to do the same. Both liked to throw anything they'd can get their hands on. Every time they fought, pieces of glass and remnants of plates scattered the floor. You had to be careful or else it'd slice up your feet pretty good. Most of the time it got cleaned up though. Usually by Tim as if he didn't do it, no one would. It wasn't because he cared about making our humble abode look livable or nothing. I figured it was because he didn't want either me or Curly or Angela cutting ourselves on it. I knew how the world saw Tim. They saw him as this rough gang leader with scar cutting down his face. A man who did what he pleased. I'm not saying that ain't true. Tim is all that. Rough, mean, as much of a hood and greaser as they come but I guess there was more too him in a way. He was caring in his own kind of way, real protective too.

Tim never scared me like he did everyone else. I mean I know Curly nor Angela would ever admit it but they were scared shitless of Tim. He should scare me...except he didn't and it wasn't too clear why. Maybe it was just because I was different. Not like a good different like I was stronger or nothing. It wasn't exactly a bad different either. I was just different.

I heard another crash, this time not as loud. Instead of it coming from behind my door, it was behind me. I turned and saw my twin brother Curly on the floor. He had black curly hair like mine except trimmed way shorter. He didn't feel the need to grease it down like Tim liked to. We had the same emerald green eyes, though somehow his were sharper. He also about a foot taller than me. Curly sighed as he got up, mumbling curse words. When I saw it was him, I scooted out of my blanket fort.
"You know Curls, you'd think you would be better at this after all the practice you've had."
My voice came out a little flat but I meant it an a teasing manner, tone was just never my strong suit. Even so, I think Curly understood as he gently pushed my head forward.

"Shut up." He chuckled a bit, leaning up against the door to listen to our Ma and step dad fight. He liked being a snoop. Pretty sure he was proud of it too. Guess it wouldn't be snooping though if the entire street could hear em.

"They've been going at it for at least two hours.....that's gotta be a new record." I stated as I rocked back and forth, holding the carpet in clumps within my fists. It was long past the days were it was plush and perfect for feet to walk on. Anymore it was stringy and tight knit, one pull away from coming apart. Curly noticed my behavior but didn't say anything, he never did. That's what I liked about him.

"You eat yet?" Curly asked as he looked down at me. The one thing I could never shake no matter which sibling was talking to me was the look of concern in their eyes. They tried to shove it far back. Back enough to hide it from me and the world but I always saw it. Instead of staring at his eyes, I looked down as I continued to rock. It was a soft pattern, back and forth.

"I'll take that as a no." He sighed as he went to his side of the room, searching through his bedside table. Most people thought it was weird that we shared a room especially since he was a boy and I was a girl. I guess it didn't matter too much since we were twins and were used to being close together. Angela used to stay in here with us until she was twelve and decided she rather sleep in the attic than bunk with her younger siblings. It sounds mean to say that I didn't mind she was gone but with her gone it meant more space. Not a lot by any means but enough space for my year round blanket fort and the nest of blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals inside. Besides that it was a standard room with two beds, two nightstands, and a desk that Curly hardly ever used.