Years ago tragedy struck the Calloway's causing the family to fall apart. Lucariah Augustine St. Francis Calloway was left in the ruins of it all with a mother who couldn't bother and a father who disappeared one night with his older brothers. For...
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I don't remember my brothers, sad as it is to say. I was much too young when they left, but I remember that I had three of them. Ezekiel. Jericho. And Christophen. I remember that they left with our father. Leaving me behind in the care of our mother.
They were teenagers when they left. Ezekiel was just a few months shy of turning eighteen. But it's been six years since; he's so much older now. And I don't know any of them. Whatever version I got all those years ago was a silly, immature variation of them.
And my father...no call. No visit. No talk of shared custody. Nothing but radio silence from all four of them. Was I really so easy to discard of? Did I not mean a thing?
My sleep was interrupted by a weight being dropped on my body and I couldn't help release a pained groan. My eyes snapped open to see Juliet- my step-sister- clutching her arm.
"Why are you so boney?!" She accused. Her long caramel colored hair was pulled into two loose dutch braids and it looked as though she had a small amount of blush on her round cheeks.
"Why are you jumping on me? Do I look like a bounce house?"
She rolled her almond shaped golden brown eyes. Her eyelashes were curled at an odd angle that suggested she had a little bit of help to get them there. "If I have to put up with dad and Samantha for the morning, so do you. They're hungover."
I threw my head back into my pillow.
"Oh no you don't!" She grabbed my arms and pulled.
"Ow! Juliet stop it."
"No. Get up."
"You're just like your father," I snapped, throwing my legs off the side of the bed. "So annoying."
"I'm going to let that slide because of the way I woke you up," she decided right then and there, "where's your leg brace?"
I nodded towards the corner of piled dirty laundry. She skipped over and held it out, pinched between two fingers. "Do I want to know the last time you cleaned this?"
I couldn't help the dramatic eye roll I'd given her, "three days ago. It's clean, I promise."
She crinkled her nose, "just making sure. My mom said that boys your age are actually really really gross. She should know, she grew up with a lot of boys."
I just hummed, accepting the brace and strapping it on as she watched with unmasked curiosity. Juliet always seemed fascinated by me. I'm not entirely sure why, but I've noticed the way her eyes linger whenever I pass by. Or all the questions she had about anything concerning me. It bothered me in the beginning, but my mother just said she was excited to finally have a brother. Someone her age no less, as she had no friends back home.
So, I entertained Juliet as best as I could. I answered her questions, let her watch me do minuscule tasks- like washing our dishes or brushing my teeth. I let her tag along when I went to go meet my best friends, or go buy something Franco decided he needed. She trailed me throughout the weekend, then returned home Monday morning and I knew I'd have five days of solitude before the process begun again.
