|From: Bad intentionz. (Wiki.)|
November 5, 2013
My brother assaulted me this morning.
He called me up and said we had something to discuss regarding mother’s estate, and that he had information ‘from the lawyer.’
So when I got there, I took off my coat and my glasses and then he started in on all the things my sister was doing to him. All the things she was doing wrong with our mother’s estate. All the reasons why we were doing so well and he was doing so poorly, everything that we owed him and all that we had done to him. He went on and on about how stupid mom was for doing this, for letting this happen to her estate.
She passed away. She didn’t have a lot of money, but it’s divided between us equally. My sister is the executor. It can take up to two years to settle an estate. She just died about a year ago.
He's burning money. He hemorrages money. He's always demanding money, and groceries, and gas, and help, and do you have a little spare cash lying around?
And I guess I said the wrong thing. I told him the reason he didn’t have any money was because he is a crackhead.
I guess he didn't want to hear about that.
But I’m so tired of hearing this shit. He has left nasty messages on my sister's phone. he's threatening people, admittedly behind their back. Now he's assaulting people. My sister has talked to security at her workplace about my brother. That’s how it is, and yet I never was afraid of my brother before this.
We had some words going back and forth, during which he brought up a few old grudges, and then he told me to get out and never to set foot in his house again.
No sooner had I stood up, than he was right on me. He had me by the throat. His fist was clenched and his arm was cocked, ready to drive me one right in the face. He was this close to beating me to a pulp. I have no doubts of that, the only question is what stopped him.
But I knew enough not to give him what he wanted. I don’t know why, but I never raised my arms from my sides. I didn’t move a muscle.
I stared into those eyes.
I told Dale to do it.
Do it, you piece of shit.
Make my day.
You’ve earned it.
You earned it.
He shoved me back, and he’s telling me to get out and never come back. I’m trying to tell him I’m leaving, right?
He shoves me back, I fall over a chair, smash into the corner of a desk, his wide-screen TV is wobbling like it’s going to fall off, and he’s still on his feet. He’s still got me by the throat, he still had his fist cocked like that and all I could do was to wait.
All I could do was to wait.
I wasn’t even scared. All of a sudden he yanks me back up and his mouth is just going—all those grudges, all that anger towards my sister, every other person he could think of, and obviously me.
I said I’m leaving. Finally he lets go and I grabbed my coat. I got out of there, with him still talking away on my way down the hall. All that passivity saved me. To raise a hand to defend myself would have just set him off, I am convinced of that. It would have been a knock-em down, drag 'em out fight that would have shed blood, broke bones. He's a big strong boy. I would have been fighting for my life.
I got in my car, backed out, I got a few feet, and then I remembered my glasses. So I got out and went back, and the funny thing was, I still wasn’t even really angry. I wasn’t going back for one last word or anything like that.
Anyhow, all of a sudden he comes out of the house with my glasses.
He started saying something about how lucky I was that he didn’t smash them.
I thanked Dale for my glasses.
“Have a nice day, Dale.”
That’s what I said. I turned and walked away.
It was only later that I got upset. I’ll be all right. I’m not seriously injured. I don’t think there’s any kind of a mark on me.
I feel a little sick to my stomach.
You see, ladies and gentlemen…I lost a brother today.
Oh, he’s still out there somewhere.
But he’s definitely gone.
My former husband Rick is gone now too. He's out west somewhere.
Thank heaven for small mercies, but I learned a thing or two from old Ricky.
I’ll never forget them, either.