Drowned in a Box for Saving My Brother

When the lid of the steel box closed, I was still calling out for Mom.

I cried, "It wasn't me. Mom, please, just listen to me. They took Ezra away. I went after him."

The sound of a key turning came from outside the iron lid. Mom stood at the entrance to the basement, still clutching Ezra Clement's blue comfort blanket in her hand.

Her eyes were badly swollen, and her lips were pale. But when she looked at me, there was nothing left in her eyes but hatred.

She said, "Evelyn, you've known how to put on an act since you were little. Ezra can't talk. He can't tell on you. So, you bully him."

I shook my head. The wounds on my back stung from the sweat soaking into them.

"No, I didn't. They gave Ezra candy, and he followed them. I couldn't hold on to him," I explained.

"Then, why did you let go?" Mom suddenly screamed. "You're his older sister! How could you let go?"

I opened my mouth, and the taste of blood filled my throat.

Before I could say anything, Mom had opened the lid and tossed a walkie-talkie inside.

"I don't want to hear your lies." She pointed inside the box. "Your dad used this box for safety testing at construction sites. It's very sturdy. Since you like to lie, then stay in there and think long and hard about what you've done."

The lid closed again. The last sliver of light was swallowed up.

I felt around for the walkie-talkie and held down the talk button. "Mom, my back really hurts."

There was no response from outside.

I spoke again, "Can you take me to the hospital first? I'll come back and reflect on what I did afterward."

A long time later, the walkie-talkie crackled to life. "It hurts? Didn't it hurt for Ezra too when those people dragged him away? He's so afraid of strangers that he couldn't even cry out. Have you ever thought about that?"

I pressed my forehead against the cold metal wall. "He came back, but I almost didn't."

Mom laughed coldly. "Aren't you back home just fine?"

I lowered my head and looked at my trembling hands. Blood dripped from my sleeve cuffs and fell onto the bottom of the box. Drop by drop, it was quickly swallowed by the darkness.

I didn't dare cry loudly anymore, as Ezra was afraid of shrill noises. Whenever he had an episode in the past, I would cover my mouth and hide in the bathroom to cry.

Mom said I was his older sister, so I had to tolerate him. Dad said Ezra was sick and I was healthy, so I should be more sensible.

I had always been very sensible. So much so that I never dared tell them that I felt pain, too.

On the night of the first day, Mom brought me a bottle of water and a piece of bread. She pushed them through the small hatch at the bottom without even bothering to take a look at me.

I lunged forward and dug my fingers desperately into the gap. "Mom, look at my back. It's really bleeding."

Her footsteps stopped, and I thought her hardened heart had finally softened.

But in the next second, she crouched down and pried my fingers away one by one. "Don't try to scare me with this act. I'm not your dad, Evelyn. That won't work on me."

The small hatch slammed shut.

I clutched the piece of bread and cried until I couldn't breathe. The bread was very dry. I couldn't swallow it.

Ezra's broken voice came through the walkie-talkie, "Evie… Evie…"

I immediately sat up straight. "Ezra, it's me. I'm right here."

Mom's anxious, soothing voice quickly came from the other end, "Be good, Ezra. Your sister is reflecting on what she did. She did something wrong."

Ezra repeated, "Evie… Evie… Red..."

Mom fell silent for a moment. Then, the walkie-talkie was cut off.

I hugged my knees and whispered into the darkness, "Ezra, I don't blame you."

But I wanted Mom to hear me, too.