Brute.

Twenty-Nine

"Hey, I recruited some help. Are you packed?" Jimmy asked through the phone.

"Almost, I'll be done before you get here,"

"Okay, we'll see you soon."

I hung up the phone and went back to folding my clothes into a box. I was nearly done when I heard a crash come from the kitchen. This can't be happening, not now. I was cautious, but I walked downstairs to handle whatever chaos was about to happen. I walked into the kitchen to find Elliott standing at the sink.

"Elliott?" I asked.

"Myra," he smiled at me, "I didn't know you were home. I dropped a glass in the sink."

I walked up to him and saw a couple cuts on his hand where the broken glass had hit him. I grabbed the first aid kit and started pulling out small pieces of glass.

"You've really grown up," Elliott smiled at me as I pulled some more glass out of his hand, "how old are you now?"

"Eighteen," I answered simply.

"Wow, really? The last I remember you were twelve," Elliott laughed.

"Yeah, that'll happen," I mumbled still not making eye contact with him.

Elliott kept babbling on about how much I've grown, but no shit. Every time I've seen him for the last six years, he's been in a drugged out stupor. There was a knock on the front door, and I knew it had to be Jimmy.

"Stay here," I instructed Elliott as I left to go open the front door.

"Beast Moving Company!" Chris laughed as I opened the door.

"Hey guys, come on in," I greeted before walking into the kitchen, "you can go upstairs, I'll meet you up there in a minute."

"Woah, woah, woah. I don't think so. You aren't going to invite in a bunch of people I don't know into our home," Elton scoffed.

I couldn't help it, I laughed, straight in Elliott face. The guys kept some distance from Elliott but didn't go upstairs. I don't know if it was better or worse for them to wait here.

"This is barely your home. The last you remember me, I was twelve years old. You don't to call this your home."

"So these days you just hang out with a bunch of guys?" Elliott asked, changing the subject, "I don't know how I feel about you going to your room with a bunch of guys that I don't know."

"You barely know me. They're here to help me move."

"You're moving? And where are you going?"

"I will not tell you. It doesn't matter, you won't know who I am by tomorrow morning anyway," I rolled my eyes, "you guys can go up to my room. I'll be up there in a minute."

"You don't talk to me that way," Elliott demanded.

"Elliott, can you tell me what month my birthday is? Or what sports I play? What bone I broke when I was eight? What year dad died? What about my middle name?" I questioned calmly as I pulled the last of the glass out of his hand and started to bandage it.

"Well, those aren't fair questions, I am still your brother."

"Those are completely fair questions," I laughed, "we may be related by blood, but you're barely my brother. Every couple weeks, you come home drugged out of your mind. I clean you up and put you in bed while you sleep it off, and then you wake up and steal money from me that I work hard for and you disappear for weeks before you come back and do it all over again. You left me after dad died, you have no idea what the last nine years have been like for me. And I don't feel bad for resenting you."

"Myra, that's not true and you know it."

"No it is true, but that's fine. Because in an hour or two, I won't have to clean up your messes and I won't have to clean up moms. I love you, and you are my brother, but barely. So be okay with it or not, but I'm moving either way."

I left Elliott in the kitchen after I finished bandaging his hand and made my way up to my room. The guys were all sitting around my room waiting for me.

"You okay?" Jimmy asked when I walked into my room.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I sighed, "that was the first time I've gotten to tell him off."

"Is that a good thing?" Chandler asked.

"That's an amazing thing," I laughed.

I quickly packed up the last of my clothes and we all began carrying boxes out to the truck. It only took a few trips, and then all of my belongings were out of my childhood home. There was one last thing I wanted before I left.

"Is that everything?" Jimmy asked.

"Almost, I remembered one thing from the living room," I smiled before I jogged back into the house.

I grabbed onto the picture frame that hung on one of the walls and held it tight to me before I turned to leave.

"Myra, wait," Elliott called.

I turned back to him from where he sat in the kitchen without speaking.

"I'm sorry I missed you growing up," Elliott sighed.

"I don't give a shit about you not knowing how old I am. I resent you for abandoning me after dad died. Figure your shit out Elliott. Is dying from a drug overdose really how you want to go out? Dad would be so disappointed in you," I sighed before I turned and left the house I grew up in.

I walked outside and immediately Jimmy wrapped his arms around me. He hugged me tightly before we got into my car to follow the guys to my new apartment.

"What did you go back to grab?" Jimmy asked.

I handed him the picture frame and he looked at it carefully.

"The last picture we all took as a family," I explained, "when my dad's piano broke, I hid a few of the keys in the back of the frame where I knew they would be safe."

"You're wearing a dress," Jimmy smiled.

"I know," I laughed, "that was taken before a piano recital."

"You look adorable in this picture."

"I was nine," I laughed.

We pulled up outside of my new apartment and it felt even more surreal than ever. It took a few trips inside, but the guys helped me move all of the boxes into the living room. I looked around at the empty walls and bare floors, and couldn't decide if I felt the bittersweet from leaving home or the freedom from being somewhere safe from my hell.

"We can help you unpack," Chris offered.

"I appreciate it, but I think I want to do it alone," I half-smiled.

Chandler wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head.

"You're safe. You're free," Chandler whispered to me.

He was right, I knew he was, but I felt guilty. It's going to take me a while to get over the guilty feelings of leaving my mom and my brother. What do I do if one of them gets hurt or gets in trouble now that I'm gone.

Jimmy grabbed the picture frame I had put on the kitchen counter, and he hung it on a nail that was already in one of the living room walls. I want to do something with those broken keys eventually, I just have to find out what.