My parents were two pieces of shit who didn’t want another mouth to feed when Mama found out she was pregnant again.
I wanted that baby, though. I wanted him bad.
Someone to love, just for me.
And I got him.
I bribed Mama good so she’d keep him, then promised to take care of him myself so he’d never be no trouble after he was born. And he weren’t. Fussy sometimes, sure, but I figured out fast that he was easy to soothe.
All my baby brother ever needed to calm himself down was something to suck on. It was a bottle when he was tiny, then his fingers until Mama said that was embarrassing and made him stop.
After that, I’d give him my fingers, and he liked that best of all.
But now?
Now he’s finally turned eighteen, so our parents don’t got no more legal claim on him. I can finally move him in with me and give him the life he deserves. I can keep taking care of him just like I promised I would.
And I still know just how to calm him down when he gets anxious. It’s the same as it’s always been, and when he needs to put something in his mouth, he still likes using my fingers the best.
But it don’t take long until we find out there’s something else he likes even better…