“You’ve got to stop saying that.”

You’ve got to stop saying that, I thought. You keep telling me you’re a burden because you aren’t like me and because it takes you longer to do thing that I can do fast. But you know, it is your job as my younger brother to do things slower than I do. I don’t want you to be like me since my job includes quite illegal and immoral things so that I can get rid of the people who killed our father.

Instead I want you to take things slowly and recover. I know that you saw father’s corpse after the explosion and I know it affected you. You keep telling me it didn’t but I can see it keeps you up at night and that you get flashbacks from certain things. I know that you think it’s stupid but it isn’t. Trauma is never simple and honestly so many things can traumatize someone, especially a little teenager like you.

Instead of saying any of that to you, I sigh and sneak some herbs that make sleeping easier into your tea while your not looking. Instead of telling you any of what I think I grab pillows and a quilt for you when you start looking sleepy. Instead of voicing my thoughts I tell you that it’s alright to sleep because you won’t see any dreams tonight. Instead of telling you about my inner feelings I make sure you’re sleeping comfortably on my sofa.

Instead of telling you what you’d need to hear I keep myself quiet because I admire you and your ability to keep yourself together. But I will not tell you since I’m not strong enough.