A Trip Down Memory Lane

KNIGHT

There were hands all over my body. I trembled but didn't stop him. Them. I didn't even make a noise as my dignity was shredded to pieces; as my heart was ripped from my chest. It's for angel. I'd bear it for her. I constantly kept reminding myself. My eyes were closed but I knew well enough who was present in the room with me.

I knew well enough who broke the bottle on my back, seeping pain down over to my spine and who had other intentions.

I knew them, for I had to see their faces almost every day and pretend like nothing had happened.

It's all for angel.

It's all for angel.

It's all for angel.

. . .

I had nightmares almost every day. It didn't matter whether I exhausted myself to sleep or not. It's true though that some days, the most horrific sights of my past hit me. Something I would never want anybody on this earth knowing.

Usually, after such nightmares, I got up, showered and prayed. Knowing that there was a greater being often calmed me down and when I laid my forehead to the ground on the prayer-mat, I felt an immeasurable amount of peace.

I followed my routine of making coffee and then breakfast for both myself and my brother—Demir. He usually got up an hour later than I did, which was at dawn. Rees had reprimanded me oftentimes for getting only five hours of sleep but he didn't know anything so I ignored him completely.

I was working on my laptop, sorting out things when Demir came downstairs, hair a dishevelled mess and face crumpled with sleeping marks. We shared greetings and he plopped down on the couch next to me, smiling his beautiful smile. It was so contagious that it lit up my face too.

"Did you have a good night?" I questioned as he sat quietly playing with his numbered ball that was in the worst possible condition a ball can be because he'd had it since he was a child.

You see, my brother had certain habits that he couldn't let go off. He had a systematic routine that nobody could break and he never spoke unless he was spoken to. He also hated going out and especially, having anybody over at our house.

That was the reason I home-schooled him and occasionally kept him entertained, though I knew he preferred his own company to mine.

He nodded, fingers constantly engaged with the ball, eyes fixed to the same spot.

I closed my laptop screen and put it aside on the table. "Should I get you your breakfast?"

Finally, his eyes met mine, never ceasing to shock me at how similar we looked. I hadn't believed my father when he'd told me I was his son but one look at the olive-green eyes and charcoal hair and I knew Demir was my brother. Shortly after knowing what had happened to my brother—knowing what my father had done—I had Demir living with me.

Though it took him many years to trust me—heck, he didn't even talk to me for a year straight—we eventually became best friends. I was so proud of him for overcoming most of his past and letting me in, though I knew how much it hurt to let yourself trust someone.

"Are you okay?"

The caring tone almost knocked me out. Did I mention his abilities to know someone's feelings just by looking at them?

Since there was no point in lying to him, I just said, "It's the usual nightmares; nothing to worry about."

He frowned. "I worry, Ağabey. Shouldn't they have stopped by now? It's been so many years."

I bent at the waist and held him by the neck. He'd gotten used to not flinching from my touch. "I have them under control. It's not a big deal," Standing up straight, I said, "Now, you'll have your breakfast and then I want to see you studying."

As predicted, he groaned, falling back against the sofa. "You just ruined my mood."

I shook my head on an amused chuckle.