Chapter 8: An Epiphany?... My Brother.
A voice intruding into my dreams, it does not belong...
Unsure of where & whom it came from, yet disrupting its creator's design...
Drawn away, wanting to uncover its source like a moth to flames, my mind's world is suddenly bearing back into...
Reality.
As my eyes open slowly, bit by bit does bright light enter... like tiny needles. Clarity slowly takes effect & the owner of the voice can be seen standing by the foot of the bed.
It's five in the morning & much to my regret, forced I am to take a detour outside & move my car so the one I share a bed with can leave for work.
My pace is heavy & slow, eyes stubborn... still trying to keep shut & hands wrapped around my chest... the morning cold... my demeanor similar that of a George Romero zombie...
Within moments. Which felt like a hike up Everest, I'm back in bed. I pull the thick covers over & wrap myself into a cocoon.
Finally! Back to where I was before...In a while I shall be engrossed in fantasy & fiction yet again.
Strange... can't seem to drift away.... my eyes yearn to be open... my body constantly adjusting itself for better comfort... Great. I've had less than two hours of sleep & while I lay here in bed, my remaining five is circling down the drain. Damn insomnia.
As I lay there tossing & turning cursing the distrubance which has caused me such inconvenience, sudden memories of my youth began pouring in. Filling my consciousness with flashbacks of the past.
These memories seems to leave me in a grave of regrets...
It was that of when my beloved mother was still alive. I was a boy of eight years & had been sent to Singapore to get a higher quality education a year ago. When I was ever back home with the family, my mother would urge me to tutor my younger brother in maths.. my younger brother was never really good with books & school... he had a hard time staying afloat in class, like a puppy washed out to sea struggling to grab hold of a passing plank.
Truth be told, I would have rather preferred sitting on the couch watching cartoons & drowning myself in sugar covered cereal & chips. However, what child at that age would be daring or willing enough to incur a mother's wrath.
So off I went into the study room we had. Lessons daily... compulsory... eating into my time while being spent on another. My rules were simple.
Do what I ask, do what I give you & get it right. Do the opposite, punishment.
Each time an answer was wrong I'd strike my brother's palm with a long thin rattan cane. Before you start to cringe & lash out at my inhumane, compassionless actions... know that such a punishment was every asian child's rite of passage... boys & girls. We all got canned at least once growing up. Some more than others, me.
Anyways, there I am. Big brother. Sure. Handing down stroke after stroke, with a sense of satisfaction within. Sick. I know. I knew how much my brother knows when it came to math. Instead of helping to get better, I abused him. Gave him questions beyond his capabilities, questions too hard for him to answer, questions I knew he'd fail with.
Why? Because nothing made me happier than to punish him... Yes i know. Sadistic. A level up from sick.
Naturally you'd ask me why. What makes me want to behave in such an appaling manner. How can I be so cruel... heartless.
The truth is, it was revenge. Not because I've been hurt by him... he was innocent. He looked up to me. Big brother. A younger brother's best friend or worst nightmare. I guess I chose wrong. Perhaps if I had not been such a horrible elder.... he might have turned out differently. A future no longer possible due to the road taken.
He'd cry & plead... beg for mercy... I was relentless. But again, as I've mentioned. It was not him which has caused me to persue revenge & thus inflict my tortures onto. But it was those around me that have inflicted similar pain onto me.
I'd be punished. Canned. Humiliated. Whenever I made mistakes, whenever I stepped out of line. Whenever I did & did not.
It was from there that my need to torment begun & grew. But I could never mirror back the sufferings I took from those guilty. They were bigger... adults. I a mere child. Powerless. Hence I set my goals for revenge onto others smaller & weaker than I.
The memory then fades to black as I'm left in bed pondering.
My eyes are now at the brink of flowing tears of regret, still sleepless. Still awake. And now filled with guilt. I love my brother. I adore him. Respect him. Even look up to him at times. Sometimes I wish I could say how I feel about my actions towards him when we were younger. Tell him I'm sorry. Tell him I never meant to be useless as a brother. Tell him I love him & proud to have him as my younger.
Though I fear the feedback. Fear what he might say. What he in turn, may blame me for. What he may accuse me of helping to manifest within him that eventually swallowed him whole & turned him to the person he is today. Judgement day. The day I may have to accept that through me, bore the man he is. That my only success as a brother was to fail at being one.
But I will. Soon. Have words with him. May he forgive me, love me & give me another chance at it. Or hate me, despise me & curse life he had me as a sibling. That will be his choice to make.
For now, I pray for mercy though unworthy of any that I might have a second chance. That I might be able to make it up to him. That I may be given an opportunity to be what my mother gave him. A big brother.
Dedicated to Shahmi Hew.
