he yelled.

his voice sharp against the scattered walls and my mother snapped back; her voice cracking as tears began to choke her. my brother and i stayed upstairs, my hands covering his ears as he played a game on my phone, trying hard to distract himself.

it had become something we had done often. finding ourselves huddled in the corner of my bed while our parents lit flames, burning themselves with each click of their tongues.

"they promised they would stop," his eyebrows furrowed as he looked up at me, his game paused as his hands shook, "he promised if he came back he wouldn't be like this anymore," his voice snapped, matching his own mother who was violently sobbing a floor below us.

my father's eyes always were red and i always feared that my brother's light blue would fade away with time;

just like mine had.