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He cries whilst opening the box, he couldn't even see what was of its contents with the tears blinding him. He wasn't even sure if he would be able to stop crying because all he did was cry. He wished he bucked up at times, especially during a situation like this where all he had was himself in the moment. In that moment; he couldn't do anything but cry. It just wasn't fair. It wasn't.
Though even if he couldn't see, he could tell which item was which in the box labeled For You, Duckie. The sight of that childhood nickname made tears come, and they hadn't stopped, but he attempted to suck them all up. That's all he could do. Cry, cry, cry, that's all he did was cry.
But he laughed with those tears, "I'm sorry."
His voice cracked as he tried to speak even more and he wiped the snot that was trailing to his upper lip — he grabbed another thing from the box. A small tape, something this brother liked to collect. Remembering once was the room of Xavier Tay, his dearest brother — the scent lingered with old sneakers and that interesting smell of when you open a new package, that new freshness of plastic, with of course; boyish body odor everywhere. An complete opposite of what Oya's room was like or what it smelt like and he chuckled a bit when he remembered walking in sometimes telling him that it smells like a barn in here, go spray some febreeze!, he remembers it so well. So well that the pain of his shattered heart clatters against his ribcage with such force that a loud boom could be heard if you pressed a megaphone to his chest; boom, boom, boom it presses more.
Boom, boom, boom he cries, it gets louder before it gets softer, punching against his bone matter with such force, it threatens to shatter it. His fingers graze on that tape with the recorder on his rosy colored dresser: boom, boom, boom the pounding only gets louder. He cannot find it in himself to make his neurons move the knuckles in his hands, it's very difficult and painful. Well if not painful — it's just severe enough to be painful. So hard, the only thing he can do is cry as it gets louder, the pounding gets loud. Harder against him.
Finally Oya finds it in himself to place it in the tape recorder; it renders for a long minute. That minute he hears his heart pounding until his brother's voice is heard.
TAPE PLAYS....
"Remember this saying, little one: THE WORLD ISN'T WHAT IT SEEMS. You now know, that this world isn't perfect. It isn't what they want you to believe it to be. It never will be. But you've been brainwashed my dear, your mind was corrupted by the palm colored individuals that told you: YOU CAN TRUST US, WE WON'T HURT YOU. But all of that was a crude lie. Some lie to get people to listen and you listened, because you were a child. A pure soul that couldn't comprehend what would happen if you went. But you went. And you cried for your mother while it happened.
Naiveness will get you nowhere in life, but you were just a child. You couldn't have known that. We both were children. So, I will not blame you and you cannot blame yourself. But I know you will, I know you do. And it hurts when you blame yourself. I feel it so deeply in your soul when you think that all of what happened in childhood was your own fault. To feel your pain manifest itself into something ugly and unpleasant is what causes me to weep at night. Though you may not hear me cry, I do.
A broken heart was what was yours now, and you longed for a love to fix it. But nobody could mend what had been lost forever. You couldn't even mend the fact that our Father sold you for the white dust. Or when he had me selling it as bait; knowingly letting men beat and steal from me. Your heart was so big.
And now I will give our tale of FATHERHOOD: Nobody could tell a man how to raise a child, must less one that couldn't speak for themselves. But a father should know what is right, and what is wrong. There is no book on fatherhood, nor is there one on what to do if your child was incredibly emotional for no reason. There was no book for shutting up your children, nothing helped. So it seemed easy to get caught up into doing that release, or the white powder, once and a couple times when your child was annoying. Or maybe, everyday. Yeah, it wouldn't hurt.
All of this was the childhood you were given, what you had to settle for. What I had to save you from; save us from. I couldn't let you stay with him. I had to save you. But first I had to save myself. There is no secret to brotherhood, I wish I could tell you why I was so selfish when were were younger but — I hope I made up for it. I prayed every night I did.
And once I saved you, I realized our family secrets. Piece by piece they were uncovered from what was hidden behind the curtain that called. But I could never tell you who our mother was. I could never tell you why she was gone for however long. I could never speak about the experiments they put her through and were going to put you through, or why we are how we are. I couldn't tell you anything. You didn't need to know that, it would break you. And I don't want to break someone that's already broken. So, I shut up.
But I realized that you found comfort in others, always that heart of yours on your sleeve. And that was something I wished you'd trade lightly with. But I tell you this, in this tape, to hopefully help you find out what is going to happen soon. You know, I know things before they happen sometimes. So predicting your death was the last straw for me. God our mother really gave us a heavy burden.
So, I record this as a warning of this being the end of me: and if it is. Love yourself like I cherished you, please Duckie. And stay strong. But do not become our mother. I only ask you stay away from those files. I'm sorry, I wasn't there — but I care. I care. [...] I love you, and I care much more than you think."
