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I've been this way for as long as I can remember. It damaged a lot of my childhood. I can't help it. It's like a curse. Like when you run into an old enemy you thought you killed. Thats what it's like. My Epithet is a curse, literally. "Nightmare" is powerful, but I hate it. everything about it makes me sick. But, I should've expected to have such a terrible Epithet, the signs were always there. I remember the sleepless nights I spent crying, clinging to my dad. The nightmares never left. They stayed, I've gotten used to them now, but they're always there, like a looming cloud of rain.
Rain.
It's raining. I didn't notice. I'm soaking wet, and I'm sliding down the roof. The drop is not far to the ground, but Mom expressed her distress about me climbing down from my room like that. So I climb back in from the window, and back onto my bed. I never used my bed. I had no need for it. I couldn't sleep, no matter how hard I tried. No matter how much triazolam they prescribe, or how much sleep therapy I get. I've lived with it for the past 12 years, no reason to change it now. My bed is soft, but everyone's is. My sisters, my parents, and my brothers. My brother. His name was like a poison in my mouth, and a illness in my head. I hated it.
I hated him.
He's always been the golden child. Always been Dr. Ashling, Dr. Sylvester, my smart little boy, Sylvie this, Sylvie that. I hated it. I never got that treatment. No matter how hard I tried to be like him. My twin, my brother. We always promised to help and be there for each other. That was the first promise we made to one another. The promise he broke. He lied. I hate liars. My jealousy has always been there. I'll be the first to admit it. But I have a reason. He's always been the golden boy. He graduated college with a doctorate in Psychology at 15. And I'm here sitting in my room alone, listening to the sounds of the rain. No wonder I'm the disappointment. Believe it or not, I wanted to be a lawyer, like my dad. I was dead set on it. But, I hit a wall. Burnout hit me like a truck. I was so dead set on surpassing my brother, that I forgot to pace myself. It was a stupid mistake. I was in college too, but I started failing so hard, that, they kicked me out.
I don't think I ever cried as much as I did that day. I was 14. A little over a year ago. It was a cold day, I went to a law school in a town north called Whitestone. Whitestone University is the same place my dad graduated from. I was kicked out. They told me I had 5 days to get everything out of the dorm, and back home, and they told me that "My grades don't adhere to Whitestone's expectations". I remember calling my parents that night, my voice barely audible, and my phone covered in tears. I had failed. Failed myself, my dad, my family, and my friends who were rooting for me. I was a scholar. I was gifted and smart, I have an IQ of 145, and yet, here I am, in my room, in Sweet Jazz, listening to the rain. I wipe my face and feel tears on my sleeve. I didn't even notice I was crying.
Knock, knock.
My door opened, Vicki poked her head though. "Mom said dinners ready." She said as she took one look at me. "Wipe your face, don't let mom see you like that, you know how she is." I knew that. Everyone knew Mom was overprotective. With Vicki's word of warning, I quickly wiped my face on my sleeve and got up. I smelt the air, only based on the smell, I know what she made. Lasagna. It was my favorite, but I wasn't feeling it today. I wasn't hungry, I was just off. And it was apparent to everyone. The dinner table was silent. The only sounds were forks dragging across the porcelain plates, and chewing. Both sounds that irritated me. I sat there, poking at my food, not really eating.
"Elbow off the table," Sylvie said to me with his shit-eating, suck-up face. I rolled my eyes and fixed how I was sitting, because no matter what I was gonna get told to do so anyway. The table went silent again. This is how most family dinners were on the weekends. Everyone was off from work or school, no one had anything to talk about. Unless Sylvie piped up with some smart doctor speak with Mom, it was mostly silent. Dad looked up from his plate and looked at me, he was always able to notice how I felt, and he was straightforward with everything, it was a trait he gained from being a lawyer.
"Sabrina." He said, his voice monotonous, and his eyes peering over his glasses. "What's upsetting you?" The way he said it made it sound more like a statement than a question, but I knew better than to stay silent.
"Nothing." I was lying out of my ass. I couldn't lie to a lawyer, but I was. For some reason. He raised his eyebrows and clicked his tongue. The universal sign for him knowing I was lying. He sighed and took a sip of his water. The glass was placed back on the table with a soft clink.
"Sabrina Charlotte Ashling." Fuck, full name. I should've just said I didn't feel well or something. The whole dinner table was looking at me, and Sylvie, being a smart ass chimed in.
"Don't bother. She's probably Menstrating or something." He waved his hand dismissively. In his eyes, he was probably joking, but I was already pissed off enough to not care about that.
"Like you know shit about menstruation Sylvie." I snapped at him, jamming my fork into my food and quickly turning my head to look at him. I rarely cursed in front of my parents, hell we rarely cursed at all. I was in a mood, and it had nothing to do with menstruation. I was pissed and was gonna let everyone know.
"Watch your language," Dad spoke sternly as he pointed his fork at me. He sighed again as he pinched the bridge of his nose and wiped under his eyes. "For someone who is upset about nothing, you sure are acting like you're upset about something." a classic from him. I've lost track of how many times he's said that. I put my head in my hands and groaned.
"As I said, it's nothing," I said again, trying to ignore the fact I felt like either crying, yelling, or vomiting. It was probably a mix of all of them. "Don't worry about it."
"I'm gonna worry about it. You are my daughter." His stern voice was like nails on a chalkboard to me. "And I know my daughter." That was his way of saying something was wrong. He knew it, Dad picked up on things quicker than anyone else I knew, his eyebrows were furrowed, and his mouth curled into a slight frown. His voice, while it was stern, it was also caring. He meant well, I was just stubborn. The room went silent for a while, the only sounds being the occasional chewing and breathing. After a while, he spoke up again. "Sabrina, be honest with me. What the hell's going on?" I stayed silent, of course, to fill that silence was Sylvie, and his two cents.
"Probably just teenage rebellion. She probably just wants to be noticed, and gain your attention. Doesn't take a Psychologist to figure that out." Sylvie arrogantly pushed up his glasses and smirked. I hated when he did that. Put his two cents into conversations he wasn't a part of. Unsolicited advice, it was all irritating.
"Teenage rebellion? What the hell do you know about teenage rebellion, golden boy?!" I slammed my hand down onto the table and snapped again. As soon as I did that Dad stood up and put a hand on my shoulder. He was reaching over the table slightly, but he was attempting to calm me down.
"Sabrina-" He attempted to speak, but I cut him off.
I stood up, slammed my hands on the table, and spoke, my tone cold, angry, and slightly hurt. "You wanna know what's wrong? Fine! I guess it's about time I said something!"
"Let's start with the main problem; Golden boy." I pointed at Sylvie. His face went from smug to confused to annoyed in an instant. He stood up and slammed his hands on the table in response.
"How am I the problem, Sabrina? Please, enlighten me." He stated with furrowed eyebrows.
"You're little Dr. Golden boy, that's what! It's all Sylvie this and Sylvie that, oh look at my son, he's a psychologist! I've never, not once, been praised for at least trying! I am as smart and as capable as your little golden boy. And yet I'm left alone while Sylvie gets all the praise. Maybe that's why you're so narcissistic!" I shot a look at Mom, then stared at Sylvie as I spoke. I was pissed and was gonna let everyone know. "It's not fair that he's handed everything on a silver platter! Every little thing right down to his Epithet! Maybe that's why he's successful, he's able to sleep!" It was at this point the tears came running down my face. I expected Sylvie to defend himself, but he didn't. He stood there and pushed up his glasses. He was taking into account how I felt for once. and he was thinking.
"Inferior." He simply whispered to himself.
"Excuse me?"
"You feel inferior is what I'm picking up here, Sabrina." He sighed as he thought again. His head was pointed down, with his hand on his chin. He was analyzing my words. Why? He didn't care. Why would he? He's better than me, smarter even. "It's called an inferiority complex." He calmly stated. Dad stepped forward and put himself in between us.
"Sylvester now is not the time." He said as he looked at him. He looked at me and then back to Sylvie. "You know your sister, she's not gonna want any advice you give her." He wasn't wrong. I didn't want his two cents. But I wanted to know why Sylvie was trying to be nice.
"Let me try." Sylvie simply said. He looked back at me. "Please, Sabrina. Continue your rant." Was he using me for research? I was already pissed, he knew better than to do that.
"Like hell I am! I'm not letting you use me for your stupid hobby!" I choked out. "You wanna show off your degree go do it somewhere else." He stayed silent. His eyes were darting from place to place as if he were thinking. Tears were still streaming down my face. "Say something damnit!" I sobbed. I was shaking with anger and sadness, after a while he looked up at me. And smiled softly. One I didn't understand. He walked around the dinner table and stopped in front of me.
He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me. He was hugging me.
I don't know what snapped inside of me, but I broke down. I started sobbing uncontrollably. It was overwhelming I felt out of place. I felt... comforted, loved, and glad to have my brother. He was an ass, and egotistical, but that was all a face he put on. He cared. My tears were soaking into his jacket, as I felt my own arms hug back. soon enough, I felt Vicki's. then Moms, Then Dads. We were all hugging each other, in true Ashling fashion. It felt like closure, why I needed it, I didn't know. But it felt nice.