My Brother, the Failure, the Soldier

According to Peter, my step-father, Mark was supposed to be the "bad" kid that failed in our family. Mark was diagnosed with ADD at a young age, but Peter refused to allow him to have the medicine he needed. Peter said that discipline would be just fine for teaching Mark to control himself. My brother had a lot of extra energy, that's just a part of being ADD; instead of harnessing his energy, Peter suppressed him. Peter ordered Mark to do his chores, go to his room, sit at his desk, do his homework, come to dinner, and then maybe he would be allowed to watch television or play on the Nintendo 64. If Mark ever stepped out of line, my mother would take out her spanking object of choice and spank him until his screams woke me from my sleep. It got so bad one time that Mark ran away. I remember the police coming, asking for photos to be able to identify him. Mark hadn't gone far, but that night, after he came home, Peter had a plan to teach him a lesson. Peter sneered, "So you like to run? You're going to run until you throw up!" I started to cry as I saw my brother circle around the house over and over again.

Peter has always been very oppressive to all of the step-children. I used to have to ask to get a glass of water or use the restroom in my own home. For me, it was depressing, I longed to be free, but I could escape it because I passed the time with my imagination, books, sewing machine and prayers that my life would get better. For Mark, it was hell. Peter constantly targeted Mark. He always found something that Mark did wasn't right, like he didn't place the bucket of water by the right fence inside of our dog's pen. Mark was punished with belts, switches, blocks of wood, rigid slabs of wood, and wooden paddles with holes drilled into it. One of the three punishments I hated was when Mark had to put his back up against the wall and keep his knees bent at a ninety degree angle with his hands held out straight in front of him. Peter would make him stay there for an hour at the very least. The other two were when, during our teen years, they smacked us on the mouth with the back of their hands like we were five year olds and pulled our ears until they popped.

Mark started to fight back during his senior year. Back then, I thought he was crazy for defying our parents, but I had no idea what they did to us wasn't right. When he got to college, he ran with his freedom. He had been like a chained up dog that got so much freedom he was run over by a car because the headlights blinded him. He ended up dropping out of college. Then, when Mark tried to get his life back together, Peter decided he was not going to give Mark the financial information he needed to fill out a FAFSA, which was required to attend his university.

Mark ended up joining the army. I detest Peter for this; it may be Mark's fault for fumbling on his chance to shine the first time, but everyone deserves a second chance and Peter screwed him over, purposely. Now, Mark may be going to Iraq in a couple of months. I feel that if Mark would have been allowed a normal childhood of friends and after school activities, he wouldn't have ended up running with his new found freedom. Regardless, Mark excelled in the army. He received all of the highest honors, he has found a wonderful girlfriend, and his life is back in order. This has been despite the fact that Peter tried to make Mark feel that he was going to fail.

I am proud to say that he is my brother, the bad kid, the failure.

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