Prompt: Feel the Heat
Context: 1966-1967: Dienne Orellana, sister to Benji Orellana, has been going through a rough second year of being bullied. Benji, who is the sort to always know what's going on with his sister, finally gets the go ahead to act.
Relevant threads: Help Me, Help You and
Carry You
ALLOWANCE I give for my sister with marks on her face. Space for my sister whose tears left not a trace. Patience for my sister who keeps telling me no. 'Don’t do', says my sister. 'Back off, keep away. I hate them and I hate you if you step in for the save.' 'I don’t need your help,' cries my sister. 'You’re a burden and a sin. I’m my own person, so piss off yet again.'
NEVER did I trust that she’d be fine on her own. I saw him with her and thought, there we go. It’s patience I’ve got, to watch from afar. Crack knuckles, wage war, plot revenge for a start. But hold back, my mind says. Let her figure it out. Trust my sister to know, to change. To trust. Let me in, tell the truth, believe in family and in what we can do.
It's
GOOD that she’s bruised. Or who else would have known? Though she’s limping, she’s smiling, my sister since two. I’m done, she grins, blood splitting her lip. Your turn, dear brother. The bar’s high now, and far. Let loose your fury to beat one and all. Aye, little sister, heal well now and rest. I’ve got your back and I’ve got rage to test. So fall… fall… blessed revenge. There’s fun to be had. No fear. Only friends.
ENVY is a dangerous wrong. Hatred. Jealousy. All which is weak, made them feel strong. They’re entitled to this joy, of course, with a toy. A sister who stayed silent. A brother who chose love over pride. Who’d rather speak in words then let violence out for a ride. Excited, I am, for this bit of game. Run, little worms; I’m mad for a change. Need to vent some stress in all its turns. I’d rather know just what they thought, to think they could scratch, bite, and claw. Why was my sister’s mind considered a flaw? She was right, by the way, about these wriggling bugs. Stupid, the lot of them. Idiots and fools. Time to play pool, and break.
RUIN them, is the command. Run down the prey. Let loose from the shadows, and make them finally pay. But I know nothing, see no one, hear nought a cry. Because fury is a tell: that which puts in guilt for a lie. So I choose calm, not temper. Still blood, chilled to frost. Unknown in blame, unlinked, unnamed. I choose to let an example be made, to regain. My sister, who felt lost, are you now okay?
