the cycle continues

i'm sitting here trying to work on my paper that's due in two weeks. i cannot focus at all and my brother comes in and is upset he can't go to the pool because of some dumb rule the apartment manager put. he says something to my mom, and i guess that sets her really off, because now i can feel her winding up like a toy, ready to blow. s

he begins by mildly yelling at him, and she puts him in his place which he needs to hear. then she goes overboard, i guess he did something that really upset her today earlier. she asks (rhetorically) where my belt is, and suddenly he's screaming "no" and sobbing while running to the kitchen, where i am. 

she's yelling at him to go in the room, and he's saying he's scared. she mocks him, and i'm trying so hard to be invisible and not cry. because this all feels so familiar that even my body remembers. 

i'm twelve again, in my old apartment's living room. i have my long, frizzy hair again. i dread looking at my reflection, and i pray that monday comes back quickly. i'm screaming and sobbing out that i'm scared, and my mom mocks me. the difference is that i had nobody to stick up for me. he does. 

we're both saved when she gets a call from somebody, kicks us out the room, and leaves us alone with our wounds pink and raw. there's uncomfortable silence between us while she happily laughs along with somebody. she opens the door as we frantically try to wipe our tears, seem normal and calm again. now we both get ridiculed to clean, both scolded even though only one of us were in trouble. 

we have to remain normal and fine though, because we have an audience coming soon and it would be so embarrassing to show our weakness, that we are truly children. so much has passed since i was twelve. i don't even recognize that little girl anymore. but we both have the same scar on our knee and we both bite our tongue when we want to cry.