#Miloh Family Tree

[kainicowrites]

Thursday Afternoon

A clanging. Crying. Muted voices. 

Just ignore it. Focus on folding the clothes. Nothing good ever comes from intervening before I absolutely have to.

“Sit! Down!”

My skin prickles at the harsh rumble and I drop the warm t-shirt, running toward the noise in the kitchen. 

Miloh crying, small body shaking. Though he is nine years old, he has the physique of a boy much younger, something that has only ever fueled Dad’s rage. 

Mom cowering in her chair. A few wisps of hair fleeing her bun, some grey, not due to old age, but the struggles this life has brought her. 

Sella spooning pasta into tupperware. She falls in the middle of the sibling line-up, which has led to her being fiercely independent, mostly out of necessity. 

Ivy repeatedly drying the same dish. She is Sella’s shadow, only one year her junior, usually forgotten in the chaos.

Dad towering over Miloh, calm fury in his features. I can’t remember a time where there was anything other than rage or indifference behind his eyes. “I don’t like repeating myself, Miloh.”

“Dad, I promise I didn’t mean to,” Miloh whimpers, his dark curls trembling with his body. 

It never gets any easier watching my baby brother endure Dad’s rage. Dad has very specific expectations of the boys and girls in this family, and Miloh has never come close to meeting them. He’s not large enough or strong enough or aggressive enough to be a “man”. He enjoys cooking and putting ornaments on the Christmas tree and, worst of all, comforting Mom when she’s hurt. The memories and guilt from every time I failed Miloh gnaw at my insides, but I stuff it down and jump into my role of diffuser, though it rarely works. I take careful steps closer to the two of them, “What’s going on here?” 

Dad turns to me, hazel eyes that match mine foggy with anger, “Nothing that concerns you, Dahlia.”

Everyone’s attention shifts to the backdoor as Silas walks through and I silently hope the interruption is enough to break the tension. Though he is sixteen and Dad’s favorite, I know he won’t intervene. Why would he risk getting on Dad’s bad side? 

The only sound for a moment is Miloh’s quiet sobs, then Dad snaps back into action, “Arabeth! If you are so bold as to defend your son then you come and do it!” 

She briefly hesitates and that damned anger I get from Dad flares. I hate myself for the question that I have struggled with since I was Miloh’s age: Why can’t she be stronger? Finally, she rises from her seat and takes Miloh’s place at the sink, Miloh running to my side and grasping my hand. We all hold our breath as Mom reaches down the disposal and pulls out a mangled fork. Dad calmly takes it from her, inspecting it as though it is an ancient artifact. 

“What did I tell you?” He pokes her with it in the chest. “Don’t defend a lying child.” Poke. “Unless you want to receive the consequences.” Poke.

I can’t keep watching this, all over a stupid fork. Besides, it’s not as though my brother and sisters will do anything. “Okay, Dad. Miloh didn’t mean it. Let’s just go back to our chores.”

I immediately know I said the wrong thing. His eyes glaze over, his body seeming to grow bigger, as though the evil thing living inside came unleashed. “I say when this is over! Everybody, into the living room. Now!” 

We all move in unison. This has happened before and it’s not wise to disobey him when he’s reached this level of fury. We make our way to the couches, but I freeze when Dad calmly says, “Not you, Dahlia. Over here.”

I usher Miloh to the couch and walk over to Dad. I’ve spent the vast majority of my life learning how to navigate his anger. I’ve gotten pretty good at it, but sometimes I make mistakes, like today. My stomach drops when Dad reaches to his side and unholsters his revolver. My first thought is that I am dead. That he’ll kill me. This isn’t the first time thinking this, nor will it be the last. But, I stand firm, willing to do so to protect Miloh and the others, even my mother, who wouldn’t do the same. 

He stomps over, an inhuman smirk on his face, but instead of pointing the barrel at me, he unloads the weapon except for a single bullet, spins it, and hands it over grip first. “I am fed up with the lack of respect in this family. I have tried to teach you the discipline I learned in the military, but you all have been huge disappointments. Dahlia, you seem to think you are in charge here, so let’s see if you have what it takes to make the hard choices.” My heart betrays me, racing to the point of near nausea. The revolver is heavy in my hand and I swallow the bile that threatens to spill out. He grips my arm so hard his knuckles go white and aims it at Miloh. “Pull the trigger. Let’s see what fate decides.”

Sick bastard! There is no way Dad has grown to be this cruel. I look at Miloh, face streaked with tears. Sometimes I feel like more of a mother to him than a sister, like he is a part of my soul living outside my body. He deserves to live a full and happy life, which will never happen while Dad looms over us. Through my hazy vision and the shaking of my hand, I slowly turn toward Dad. Just as my finger starts to pull on the trigger, Dad disarms me in a blur, hitting me on the left temple with the butt of the gun. I stumble back, vision going black and head pounding. 

Dad’s shouts come at me as though in an amphitheater, “You should have obeyed me, Dahlia!”

Staggering along the floor, trying to keep myself upright, sobs and terrified screams meet my echoing ears. When I get my vision back, it is swimming, the room a carnival funhouse. The pistol he keeps in a locked drawer in the living room, now in his hands.

“Please don’t do this, Kaid!” Mom’s meek voice.

“Dad, no!” Silas, teary-eyed for the first time since I can remember. 

Sella and Ivy unmoving, huddling close together. 

“Dahlia… Dahlia, please help.” Miloh wailing my name over and over. 

I need to get the pistol out of his hands. I try to run at him, tripping over my own feet before I can reach him, the room still spinning. 

BANG!

Ears ringing. Screams echoing. 

BANG!

I scramble to my feet. This cannot be happening. A brief glance at my family proves that this is not a nightmare. Mom and Silas slumped on the couch, motionless. Blood pooling.

“Dahlia!” Miloh’s feet are stuck to the ground where he stands. 

BANG!

Ivy shrieks, “Sella! Sella, no!”

Dad’s arm shifts further down the line, face expressionless, “You all should have obeyed!” 

I run at him again, willing my feet to be quick. 

BANG!

My chest crashes into his side, tackling him to the floor, crashing on the glass coffee table as we go down. I ignore the shards sticking out of my skin, turning red, my only thought being to protect Miloh. I grab the pistol Dad dropped in the scuffle and, not taking my eyes from his emotionless ones, point it at him, pulling the trigger. 

“You should have known better than to threaten Miloh. If you knew me at all, you’d know I will protect him at any cost.”

The rushing in my ears fades away, replaced by the sound of Miloh still whimpering my name. The gun falls from my fingers, mixing with the broken glass and blood. I rush over to Miloh, enveloping him in my arms. 

“Dahlia, this is all my fault.” 

I rock him back and forth, “No, Miloh. I should have stopped him. I should have been faster.” I look at the bodies over his shoulder, my family gone forever, lost in a storm of rage. Here one moment, gone the next. 

Sirens sound from outside, likely called in by a concerned neighbor. 

Miloh pulls back, our eyes meeting, “Let’s go, Dahlia. We can start fresh somewhere else. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

I squat down to his level, “Oh, Miloh. That sounds wonderful, but we have to face this. If we start running now, we’ll never stop. But, I promise I won’t let anyone hurt us again.”

Miloh studies my face for a moment before nodding. I lead him outside to await the flashing lights, away from the death inside. 

Us against the world. As it has always been. As it will always be.

[the-book-of-sims]

Liloh&Mitch Family Tree

The tree is getting so big, I can’t get a full photo of it! I hope you all don’t mind that I take photos of each of Catherine and Scott’s kids individual trees... Starting with Liloh and Mitchell!

Here’s the link to the last family tree update! ❤��     — Link to Michael&Olyver     — Link to Joseph&Mary     — Link to Jack&Emily