My Brother

My brother was my parents' favorite throughout the time I lived at home. He was always very quiet, and we did not get along at all. I would often try to comfort him during all the screaming and violence between my parents, but that was about as close as it got, until now. He was never abused while I lived at home, well not physically anyway. When he became older, mother would make him chase me down, and keep me from getting away. I never knew how this would affect him, until later on in my life. When I left home and went to college, I received a chilling call from my brother one day. He said to me that mother had pulled a knife on him, and that he was sorry for all the times he had helped her regarding me. I remember crying until I could not cry anymore. I tried desperately to get  him out of that house, but could not find anyone to help. My brother ended up living in his bedroom all his life. He went into a severe depression as well as psychosis, from what I can gather. He spoke to noone for years. He recently began getting help for his pain. He called me the other day and for the first time in years, he sounded normal. I have tremendous guilt over knowing that he endured more pain than I ever imagined. He had it worse than me, for he was forced to participate in the violence towards me, and then became the target. I love him with all my heart, and hope one day he can find the courage to live life without pain.