• I sit there in my corner. The bright yellow wall and heater on my right, my blue hamper filled with games on the left, infront of me is my bed. My brothers room is on the other side of the wall at my right.
    I hear yelling from the hall. My mother, my brother their yelling I'm trying to close myself off from it. Then then the yelling stops. I hear the loud creaking of my stairs as my mother goes down to the living room. Then all is silent once more. My corner, quiet, peaceful.
    A short sob breaks through the wall, I can hear it followed by more. I can hear the whispers from the other side.
    "I'm failing...failing...they think it isn't stressful for me? They don't care...they expect me to succeed when they don't help when I need it? Why...."
    It's desperate, the whisper. I hear a crash, CD's falling down into a cluttered pile.
    It's desperate, the whisper, the sobs.
    He's crying I know it, he's failing I know it. But I can't reach out when I am so young for he is older. I am two behind him, I can't help. I want to, I can't, I know.
    He's the good, I'm the bad. He does what he's told, I break the rules, I am the bad. He is the good. Have mercy on him. I hear him, his mumbles, his cries. I want to be there for him, but I can't.
    He is holding onto his rope, it's slipping from his hands, but I cannot grab the rope without breaking it. My brother, I'm sorry I want to grab the rope but I can't. I'm sorry, my corner, I'm eavesdropping, I shouldn't be. I'm sorry.
    It's desperate, the whispers, the sobs, the boy.