AN: i sorta posted this on wattpad but i promised to crosspost so yeah here you go

this is terrible why did i ever write this

Don't open the door.

She didn't open the door. She continued humming her tune, scribbling notes as she did.

Ignore the pounding.

Her heart pounded in the rhythm of the door being pummeled by her brother's fists. She continued her humming, her scribbling, her breathing in, breathing out, don't worry, he'll get tired of this soon.

Don't think about it. He'll go soon.

He'll leave. He's probably high. He'll be ok (well, as ok as he can be) when he's sober.

"I'm going to kill you if you don't open the door!"

What had she done to deserve this? Why? When had it all come to... this? How did it go from happiness to anger?

Four-year-old Zoe held hands with her older brother Connor. Smiling. Like all brothers and sisters. Happy.

"You have the big apple, Zo!"

"You have some apple too!"

"I can eat the small apple."

"No, wait! Mommy, can you cut this apple in half? I want to give some to Conn-or."

Four-year-old Zoe ran back to Connor, apple halves in hand. "You have half of this apple!"

Zoe took a bite of her half. "It's so sweet!" Juice ran down her hands and she giggled.

"Last one to get to bed is a rotten apple!" Connor ran down the hallway, half-eaten apple slice still in hand.

"No, wait!" Their tiny feet pounded the floor as they ran.

"I win!" giggled Zoe.

"That wasn't fair. I wanted to win! Your bedroom's right there, of course you'd win." Zoe didn't know the look in Connor's eyes, but it looked mean.

"Then... you can come to my room!" said Zoe. "You like playing in my room!"

"I don't want to play in your stupid room!"

Then came a sickening slap.

"That hurt! Mommy, Connor hit me!"

"Oh, Connor, how could you? Zoe..."

Zoe didn't remember anything else about the day. All she remembered was thinking, "I thought we were happy!"

And since then, there was anger. Less and less happiness. More and more fights. More and more slaps, punches, threats, screaming.

Why?

Looking back on the past, what changed?

She didn't open the door.

Connor gave it one last feeble kick.

And everything was quiet.

Zoe exhaled. Finally. He must have gone.

She heard the front door open and close. Did Connor go out?

Well, anything to stop him breaking down her door.

She looked at the clock. 11 pm. She might as well sleep.

The next morning, she woke up to silence.

Funny, she thought. Usually Connor kicks my door in or kicks something in.

"Connor, you up? If you don't wake up I'm leaving without you again!" she warned.

Silence.

"Mom, where's Connor?"

Cynthia Murphy emerged from the staircase, eyes red as though she'd just been crying.

"Sweetie, we... have some news."

Zoe's mother inhaled.

"Last night, when Connor didn't come back... we went looking for him."

"He committed suicide, Zoe."