The Bedroom - Story 17 of 31
An unnamed protagonist describes the feud between himself and his brother, Thomas
The Bedroom-Story 17 of 31
By Ta’kom Ironhoof
I hate my brother, Thomas.
Ever since we were pups, he’s always acted like he was so much better than everybody around me, like I was just a burden. And while mother loved us both, I could see the way she doted over him. I suppose in Wolf society, it’s fairly common place for pups to figure out their place in the pack, but his narcissism was on another level.
For him, anything less than perfection was anathema to his very existence.
The only thing that I ever got up on him was when we first moved into this house, when we were picking our bedrooms. We both wanted the room on the right side of the hallway, the same room that I’m in now. It was pathetic to witness at the time. He whined and begged and howled to mother but she wouldn’t hear it. She finally decided for us; I got the room on the right while Mr. Perfection got the room on the left.
And he never let me forget that day.
Whenever he gets the opportunity, he’ll scream at me from his room how unfair it was that he was denied something he desired. He claims he saw ‘potential’ in here, though I don’t have a clue what he was ranting about. There’s no need for me to respond to him. It’s been twenty-five years. I’ve already said all that could be said in response to his whining.
Before moving into this house, we used to play together, though Thomas was still a jerk. He’d demand that he won any game that we played. Whether it was running around outside in the grass or inside on rainy days playing with toys, Thomas just had to ‘win’ no matter what.
That’s not something I’ve thought about in a long time. Grass; what it feels like, smells like. If only…
Oh, what am I thinking? I’ll probably be dead before I even get close to grass every again. I refuse to let Thomas take away the only thing that I ever ‘won’, even though it wasn’t a competition to begin with. He’s the one that started things. All I ever wanted to do was be friends and he ruined everything, EVERYTHING!
He’s why mother and father divorced. He demanded so much from him and father worked himself to death just to please his ‘special little pup’ as he used to say. Considering I’ve not seen or heard from him since we first moved in here, I imagine he finally woke up to how crazy all this was. I don’t blame him. If I were able to escape, I would have been gone so many years ago.
Mother, on the other hand…
Mother gave birth to that monster. Mother believes he can do no wrong. Mother is the reason the feud between Thomas and me has been at a stalemate. She loves us both; I know she does, but there’s clearly favoritism. That bastard Thomas even has her coat pattern, so maybe she sees herself within him. I look more like father.
It must be nearing dinner time now. I can feel and hear my stomach growling. From across the hallway, I can also hear Thomas beginning to moan about being hungry. We’ve both gotten so used to our situation. He’s probably enjoyed every single minute since mother chained our doors shut.
After father left, Mother did something to our doors so that they wouldn’t open anymore. I only know that chains are involved somehow because when I used to care enough to bang on my door, I could hear them rattling on the other side. Since then, the door doesn’t budge no matter what I do to it. She installed a slot in the door to pass things through and talk to us, at least.
Years ago, whenever she would bring us food to eat, she’d sit between our rooms and talk to us while we ate. She’d tell us about her day, any news about father, and the house. Thinking back, she talked about the house more than anything else. These talks only lasted for a few years, though. With each trip, our talks got shorter and shorter, until eventually, all she did was open the slot in our doors, push a tray of food through, close the slot, and walk away. Probably because she didn’t have to listen to Thomas. Whenever she would actually visit, he did his best to talk over her. He probably thought that whatever was going on in his room was much more important than whatever Mother had to say.
But me? It didn’t take me long to figure out that I needed to be silent. I needed to listen. I knew I had won and all I had to do was bide my time until this house decides to take us.
I admit, however, it’s beginning to get more difficult to reach the door these days. With all the various piles of garbage that have built up over the years, there’s barely any room. Besides my desk chair or my bed, the room is full of waste and garbage. And because by brother Thomas wanted this room, I want to make sure that it becomes an abomination in his eyes. There’s nothing perfect here. Wallowing around in the garbage and filth makes me feel a particular joy, knowing that the one desire Thomas ever had that wasn’t granted to is thoroughly desiccated.
Then, I hear it. Through the refuse filling my room, I can hear the metal slot open in my door and the plastic tray dropped through. It doesn’t matter than the gruel mother serves us falls off the tray and onto the floor. Just something else to add to the filth. And because I’m hungry, I slither my way across the room, allowing my fur to filter through the sickly mess surrounding me to eat my food directly off the floor.
I do not care though. As long as Thomas doesn’t win, I am happy.