Now, this may not seem like a big thing, but I’m fairly certain that this is the start of the veneer cracking: the evil succubus that sucked the joy out of the faux happiness that surrounded the trio that was my family before me. It was the early signs of the hell that was soon to come. See my brother was tired of the spotlight. Tired of not being allowed to play like the normal kids. Too many things were a sin in the strict Christian household. He just wanted to be a boy. A typical seven-year-old boy.
The type of boy who wasn’t afraid to skip the prayer after his lunch sandwich for fear that God would send a message to his parents. Afraid to miss prayer in the morning when he woke up. He did once, and he prayed the entire car ride to school. Lucky for him this was the one time his parents did not question him about his morning and took it for granted that he did pray. He liked these days more and more. The drill of absolute perfection was limiting his abilities to even understand the things that normal, not so perfect children dealt with.
He watched the children playing one lunchtime as he always finished his lunch late due to a lengthy prayer and as such had only half the amount of time to mingle. Not nearly enough time really get in and enjoy lunch. By the time he got into the groove of being normal, class had resumed. He sensed some of the other children felt sorry for him. They were always trying to get him to spend the night. He even told our parents a few times. But he could sense that the other children’s parents didn’t like our parent's screening system.
Firstly non-Christians were strictly prohibited. Bed time was at the same time as at home. Certain TV programs completely off limits. And all homework must be completed before any leisure activity. Saturday was a park day and any parent who dared take him on that day had to go to the park at the time suggested and stay there for the allotted play time period.
Nothing about the strict rules was out of the realm of normal. Some parents were much stricter. Like not letting their children do anything without their parental presence. But there was something off in the way my brother carried out the quest. In fact, he listed the list without the parents having to open the sleepover guidelines our parents sent. He was too devoid of the spunk most seven-year-olds or younger would have. They, like the kids at school, felt sorry for him. Secretly they all hoped they could break the spell. But it was hard work. My brother went into a fit if deviation from the plan happened. It was a subdued fear because he was taught to always act like nothing was amiss at home.
No one ever suspected it was more than mere OCD because if anyone thought he hated his home life things could get ugly. My brother had yet to test the fates of such a situation. He was a trained machine and also a genius; it was unlikely even a shred of evidence would come forth. He was normal in the way you expected a halfway sheltered child in a Christian regimental style home to be. Basically the norm but different. Hence why everyone felt sorry for him.
But things changed. One day my brother was sitting chowing down on a roast beef sandwich for which he prayed for the cow that gave it’s life so that he could have nourishment. Amongst praying for the flower that was milled to make the bread and… well, you get the idea. He just figured in that part of him that thought like he was ten and not seven, that he had enough. He was going to rebel and force his parents to stop grooming him for success. Even without their help, it was clear my brother would be great. No point in over-aiding the inevitable. But my parents were not the type to leave anything to chance.
It was an ingenious plan, destined to fail. It would’ve been rather successful on other parents. As it were, my brother didn’t fully understand my parents at that time. He didn’t know there was no such thing as challenging them like most kids do. Tempting the waters. See how far you can go. There was nowhere to go with our parents. And with the success my brother was, how could one even argue with them. With superior child raising results.
***
It was report card day. He had managed to do above and beyond on everything and only did just one step below that on two things. Small. And still gave him the highest average in the class. There was a bit of silence as his parents read the results. A very eerie calm as if he had become trapped in the eye of a storm permanently. And then it happened.
“This is unacceptable.”
Ezekiel looked at his dad as he spoke. Still confident in his plan’s success. “It’s only two things. And I passed them, and I still have the highest average in my year. I don’t see what the big deal is.”
He had his arguments ready. There was no way this plan could fail. His dad only said it again as if to be sure he had heard it. Ezekiel looked at his mother. A cold evil stare looked back at him. It was at that moment he knew no argument would save him. He saw in his parents what he supposed he knew all along. They had exerted their need to control everything while making it look like they weren’t on to him. Transferred their one passion to him now that they had already infiltrated the globe. If they could fool the world, surely they could conquer a seven-year-old genius.
Ezekiel was grabbed by his mother, dragged and vaulted into his room by her. Then he was gagged by his own shirt and she hit him hard with her fist, not a sound could be heard even in the room. His dad just glared at him as his mother physically abused him. Standing in the corner watching the events with approval. Ezekiel tried his hardest to figure out what was going on. How could this have happened? And he realised his parents were always crazy. This obsession with children was unhealthy at best. And here they were now. Finally finding an outlet under their roof. Careful to beat him in a way that caused no surface bruising and only below the neck his mother finally removed the shirt. There were a few bloodstains Ezekiel had coughed up. His mother smiled as if this proved success.
His father then said, “Maybe now you will do as we say.” His mother soon came back and stripped him bare and locked him in a closet. There he stayed for a week in the dark. It was clear that his mom wore the pants in the relationship. His dad, unfortunately, wasn't being led as much as going along for the ride. There was no doubt he firmly supported his wife. And Ezekiel… well he learned to never challenge them again and for the first time in his life felt completely helpless.
***
They broke my brother that day. The type of damage that they had groomed him to be able to hide. Our parents were brilliant. They knew one day the opportunity to take force would come. They also knew that it would come at the age he was sufficiently well versed in hiding abnormalities. After all, they were the authority on children right into adulthood. They set out to do something and achieved it above and beyond all expectations. My brother would never be the same. But yet this broken person is still not the brother I know.
I was in fact also designed to be a certain way. And it was also successful. But I can’t tell you that. Not just yet. Let's just know that this fateful day was the beginning of the dark, and the first day of the true creation of my brother; this is why I called it the beginning because that is what he called it. And so it shall be.
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