Untitled (for now)

The first time I remember hearing Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven I was sitting in my room quietly playing with my dolls.  I stopped playing and listened to the laments of the piano my mother played. I’d never heard the song before, just as I hadn’t heard many other songs she played.  Its haunting rhythm filled the air as I sat in silence just listening.  She played it differently than she did other songs.  It sounded as if she had given her soul to the music.  The other songs she’d play sounded rehearsed; she had played them thousands of times over, every note perfected just as my step-father, Rick, made her do.  It was at that moment of hearing the song that I understood the sadness she constantly felt.
Everyone had to be very quiet when she played or else he would get mad and start yelling.  He didn’t like when his tranquil atmosphere was disturbed.  My older brother and mother took the brunt of his anger.  I was rather invisible to him which I didn’t mind.  I didn’t like the attention he gave mom and Julian. Though I was only 11, I knew he was the one administering the bruises that spotted their bodies.  I knew they weren’t accidents.  No one falls that many times.  I pretended to believe them anyway.
When he demanded for her to play, he sat across the room in his leather chair with a glass of scotch in his hand listening to the music he forced out of her.  One time he let me come into the living room to watch with him.  I really wish I hadn’t.  He kept a steady gaze on my mother while she played, critiquing her every note.  She missed a note and subtly winced, her eyes closing for a brief second. Rick’s jaw clenched and gripped the glass tighter.  I held my breath.  The song continued.  When he was done having her play he simply took the last gulp of his drink, slammed the empty glass down next to her and walked off.  I sat there a moment, unsure of what to do.  My mother sat still at the piano until my step-father was clearly out of the room. 
“I wish I could play like you, mom.” I said to her.  She stood up and kissed the top of my head as she walked out of the room in silence, arms folded and posture bent. 
One night I found myself home alone with Julian, both parents supposed to be gone for the night.  I hadn’t heard that haunting song but once and wanted so desperately to hear it again.  I sat down at the piano and gingerly touched a smooth ivory key.  I quietly tested the keys to find the right ones to start with. Before I could find it, Julian hurriedly came up behind me and grabbed my wrist.
“Are you stupid or something?” he asked.  I just looked at him, eye’s blinking and scared.  “If Rick comes home and catches you playing mom’s piano he’ll kill you.” He warned. 
“I just want to learn a song mom played once. He won’t be home for hours he said.” I looked into Julian’s pale blue eyes and saw my mother.  Constantly carrying worry and concern on his face as my mother did, he looked much older than 14.  His soft, wavy, light brown hair much resembled mine though he kept his much shorter. He mulled it over for a moment then nervously sat on the bench along with me, asking me to hum how the song went.  He quickly identified the song and started to choppily play the melody with his slender fingers almost silently.  He was good at playing by ear.  Just as he was beginning to get the hang of it, Rick had come into the room.  Before I knew what was going on he slammed the lid on my brother’s fingers and slapped him on the back of the head. 
“Why the hell are you playing that piano?” he yelled angrily.  Hushed tears streamed down Julian’s face as he looked down at his crushed fingers.  “Oh look, I made him cry.” He said feigning sympathy.  “The little faggot boy’s crying! Look how your faggot brother cries, Lily!” he said to me with a hateful smile.  Julian’s face and ears began to turn red.  He tried to stifle the sobs that involuntarily shook his chest.  I had heard him being called that name before, by Rick and also by kids at school.  I didn’t know what it meant; I only knew that it made my brother cry every time he was called it.
I sat there in my guilt.  It was my fault he was playing in the first place.  My fingers should be crushed, not his.  My eyes started to water. 
“And what the hell are you crying for?” he asked me condescendingly.  “I didn’t even touch you yet!”  My gaze remained fixed at the floor.  He slapped my cheek hard.  “Quit your crying!”
Julian got a deranged look in his eye.  He leapt from the piano bench.  “Don’t touch my sister!” He yelled in the most masculine voice he could choke out.  He grabbed Rick’s neck with his bruising fingers and squeezed as hard as he could manage.  Rick’s face turned a bright red as he twisted his neck away from Julian’s grasp.  He broke free and slammed Julian’s up against the wall, his head making a dreadful noise when it hit.  All I could do was cry as I watched Rick mercilessly beat Julian.  When it looked like he could take no more, Rick gave him one final shove into the wall and let go.  Julian slinked down to the ground, face all black and blue.  Rick pointed to me.
“You say a word to anyone, that’ll be you.” he motioned toward my beaten brother with his head.  I looked up at him glassy eyed and nodded my head in comprehension.  He walked off.

         I fumbled through the cabinet to find the bottle of Valium for my mother as I did every morning.  I poured out 4 pills from the newly refilled bottle onto the counter, pocketed 2, and walked the rest to my mother who was on the couch wrapped in a blanket staring blankly at the television that was too low for anyone to hear.  Her once beautiful golden hair was tied back in a greasy pony tail.  I silently set them on the table next to her half empty wine bottle and glass and walked out of the room to find Julian.  I stole my mother’s pills for him since I was the only one who ever got them for her.  He said they helped him survive the hell Rick put him through.  I just wanted to do anything I could to help him.
         I remember the days when my real father lived with us.  He was gone a lot for his work but when he came home he always brought a special something for me and Julian.  I never understood why my mother would call him a scumbag behind his back until the day he went away for business and never came back.  I later found out from Julian that his business was a woman in Ohio.  I threw away all my something specials from him after that.  When Rick came he was nice to us at first, treating us even better than my real father had.  But after a year or two, he dropped his act and gradually became the piece he is today.  I lost my respect for my mother the day I found out he beat her and she did nothing about it.  All her self-respect was drained as well. 
          Julian had a boyfriend, Eric, who was not-so-cleverly disguised as a best friend.  He was a year older than Julian with his own car.  They spent most of their time together at Eric’s house, only a mile or two away, but occasionally they came to our house.  He was completely oblivious to Rick’s abuse; Julian had become an expert at lying about getting into fights with guys from school to explain his bruises and scars.  Since Eric went to a different school, he never knew the difference. 
Rick was working late one night and Julian took the rare opportunity to invite Eric over.  The two spent most of the evening in Julian’s room as I watched the television in the front room.  When it was getting close to the time Rick was to be home, Julian walked Eric out to the porch. They passed by me, unaware of my presence in the dark room cuddled in my blanket.  I covertly watched them through the open window as they said their goodbyes.  As they leaned in for a quick and discreet goodnight kiss, a pair of ominous headlights pulled up in the driveway.  An apprehensive chill rushed through my body as I saw the two frantically jerk away from each others’ lips. 
Rick burst from his truck, bolting straight toward Julian as he froze to the ground paralyzed with fear.  Rick’s eyes penetrated through Julian’s weak self defenses and ripped him away from Eric, pulling him into the house and slamming the door shut behind him, leaving Eric alone in oblivion. I shrunk beneath my blanket trying to disappear into the couch as Rick slammed Julian up against the front door, causing a forced “family” picture of us to come crashing to the ground.  I saw Eric jump on the porch as my brother’s frail body impounded the door that separated them.
“Is this what goes on when I leave you alone in my house?” Rick yelled into Julian’s face. Julian’s blue eyes cowered under Rick’s powerful stare, leaving Julian in petrified silence.  “You’ve been involved with another little fag right under my nose?” he snarled.  With that I saw Eric back away from the porch, speed walk to his car and drive off.  Julian said nothing.  The sound of Eric’s distant footsteps filled the silence for a few seconds.  I could see Julian trembling from the glow of the television.  “I don’t want a queer in my house.” Rick snapped as he shoved Julian across the room leaving him in a heap of humiliation on the floor.  “You and your faggot ass better not be here when I get back.” Rick said and spat on him, snatching away any ounce of dignity left in him.  He ripped the door open and slammed it behind him, causing the house to shake in his departure.
Julian lay sobbing quietly on the floor.  I emerged from my blanketed cocoon, thankful I had not been discovered, and realized I had been sweating.  I slowly sat next to Julian on the floor and put my hand on his shoulder.  He jumped and I told him it was okay, it was just me.  He sat up and looked at me with bloodshot eyes and wet cheeks. 
“What do I do?” he whispered delicately.  I sat there pondering our options.  I didn’t want to fathom what would happen if Rick came back with Julian still there.  He had never actually kicked one of us out before.  He had also never known for sure about Julian’s homosexuality. 
“We go.” I said to him.  He frowned in confusion.  “We just leave.” I said with confidence, though I had little confidence in the actual idea.  “I just can’t live like this anymore.” I said, feeling more powerful with every sentence I uttered.  “Rick can’t treat you how he does, it’s just not right.” I continued.  “We should go to the police with this and –”
“Just stop.” Julian interrupted.  “There’s nothing we can do about it, no one would believe us anyway.”  He said hopelessly.  I looked at him as he wiped his eyes and nose and started to pull himself back together.  The glow of the television flickered his face with blue as we sat in silence. I was crushed.  I thought he of all people would want justice.  He stood up and walked out of the room.  I sat in the middle of the floor drained of all hope.  I heard Julian prepare for bed on the other side of the house.  I hoped more than anything that Rick wouldn’t come home tonight to find Julian still at the house. Hopefully it was just an empty threat.  I decided to sleep on the floor of the room Julian was in, slinking in after I heard him soundly sleeping.  If Rick were to do anything to him, I’d know as soon as it happened.  Within moments I drifted off to a restless sleep and was awake before I realized I was sleeping. 
To my relief I saw an untouched Julian sprawled out on the bed motionless and asleep.  I got up to get the Valium for my mother.  Two pills fell out leaving an empty bottle in my hand.  I supposed my mother had taken some extra pills the day before because I could’ve sworn there were more in there yesterday morning.  I ignored the soulless lump of a mother on the couch, put the pills next to her wine and went to wake Julian.  I sat on the bed next to him and gave him a nudge.  He didn’t respond so I tried again. And again.  And again.  My heart viciously pounded inside me when he didn’t give a usual groan or movement. Panic seized my mind as I violently shook my brother, pleading for him to wake up, fearing the worst.  My vocal cords twisted into a knot and water began pouring out of my eyes.  I shook him harder.  Nothing.  I lifted his delicate wrist and squeezed, desperately trying to find a pulse.  I felt nothing and tried his neck.  I waited a moment or two without any response.  As I was about to give up, a painstakingly slow and feeble pulse suddenly met my fingertips.  I ran to the phone and called an ambulance.