CHAPTER 10: THE TWO OF US AGAINST THE WORLD

NOTE: It was around this time period that it really sank in. We were just a couple of months away from anniversary date #1. Smoking pot had become normalized. My guess is that at 13, I was spending less than 50% of my nights at home and the other 50% who knows where. And I’m not sure anyone even noticed I was gone. I was definitely becoming more Richard than I was Joe. I didn’t know it at the time, but my mind was doing that purposely. I needed to become the stronger side of my self-consciousness just so I didn’t go crazy. Believe me I wasn’t crazy; the brain was just doing what it needed to do to stay alive. Without Richard, I would have never been able to safely exist on the streets as often as I had found myself doing lately. Many others before and after me have had to fight a mental illness similar to mine on their own. At least for me, I had Richard watching my back, while leading me safely into the darkness. It was truly him and I at every step of the way.

CHAPTER 10:  THE TWO OF US AGAINST THE WORLD

Joe has started smoking pot now on a fairly regular basis. Nothing like I did, but at least a start. Neither the pot or the occasional Valium really ever relieved the pain or changed the outcome of that August night. If anything, the high just intensifies the memories. Oh well, this is the life I chose before, and it is what I want now. Nobody is going to tell me what to do or how to do it.

Home life is a thing of the past now. We stay on the streets most of the time. Sometimes we lie to dad, telling him we are spending the night with friends, if he even bothers to ask or if we are lucky enough to see him before we go. And he never checks, I think he knows we are okay, but I’m not sure he even knows it is his responsibility to make sure of that. I wonder if he would even care if he knew where we were at. To me any place is better than the house dad sometimes calls home.

Dad is making it easier this time for me to destroy my life. The only difference this time is that I get to take Joe with me. Dad just never wants to be the bad guy or use the word no. Maybe he just knows that we are too far gone to listen to him even if he ever did try to help. And he would hate to upset poor little Joe more than he already has been by my suicide.

Does dad even have a clue what descent morals are all about? I guess in his defense, you cannot teach someone something you never learned yourself. But as a dad I would think if you had sexual encounters with relatives or had just purchased illegal drugs it might not be something you would tell your thirteen year old son. Common sense has to come in somewhere.

I know dad loves us. He worked hard to provide a roof over our head. He had stopped school when he was in second grade to work in the cotton fields with his family. It wasn’t his fault that his children did not come with instructions on how to raise them. Even if we did, he would not have been able to read them. I know he wants what is right for us. He is just more lost now than he was before my suicide.

Joe and I have started to distance ourselves from everyone else in our life. Even though there are two sisters and a half-brother in the family, we don’t feel as we have any siblings left. There was only him and I.

I’m not sure if it is because we’ve started getting high or if it is the inner battle we have going on that no one else can understand. Joe and I were alone together for most of our childhood. The only difference now is that we occupy the same body.

As bad as I need to, there is no part of this mess that I can share with anyone. School is getting a lot harder now. People there, smile, laugh, joke, and enjoy themselves. They seem to think this is a normal world we live in. Most of them pay attention in class, turn in homework and go on just like everything is okay. Didn’t they hear the shot or see and smell the brains. Hadn’t they taken their Valium this morning? They are silly. How can they act like life is the same as it was nine months ago?

We have got to get out of here, away from these so-called normal people. I can take care of Joe. I

always have. We don’t need any interference from anyone. These teachers and counselors are trying to get way too deep into our business. They just don’t understand. They never will. They know of the suicide and after taking a class or two on the subject they think they can be of some help. But they really don’t have a clue what real life or death is about, and Joe and I are not about to tell them.

I’ll bet a quick graphic description of our room that night or what I’ve lived with since then would blow their minds and make them leave me alone. Thank goodness summer vacation is almost here. This crap is almost over.

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**Reach out to me at any time. 

I am not only willing, but I also look forward to taking a share of your pain. Email: David@bondedabrotherslove.com. You will get a caring same day response.

Nothing scripted. 

You are not alone, and you matter.

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If You’re Struggling

If you or someone you love or know is in a dark place, please know you’re not alone and there is help available. Reaching out is a sign of strength, not weakness. There are people ready to listen, ready to walk with you, and ready to help.

Immediate assistance is available:

National Suicide & Crisis Lifeline  

📞 988

Veterans Crisis Line  

📞 1-800-273-8255 (Press 1) | 📱 Text 838255

Survivor Support / Crisis Group  

🌐 https://www.crisishotline.org  📞 832-416-1177

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💡 If you know someone who needs to hear that they are not alone, share this story. Together, we can create echoes of hope that outlast the pain.

For more than five decades, I carried this story in silence. Silence nearly broke me, but telling it is what keeps hope alive.

Bonded: A Brother’s Love : One Bullet. A Thousand Echoes my hope is that it offers understanding, connection, and even a reason to hold on when life feels unbearable.

📖 Order your copy today and join me in breaking the silence. Together we can spread hope, honor the lost, and change the future.