Good Intentions

Sister’s POV

I’m loving this weather. Its warm and it wraps you up in its warmth. I, however, do not like why I am here. I sit and take notes. That’s all I do. I jot down times and locations, who’s present and who isnt. I’ve been doing this on and off for months.
I pull my blonde hair back in a tie and put the binoculars to my eyes and scan the building, getting a count of vehicles and their make and model.
I watch as people enter and exit, taking note of the regulars. I count body guards or if they are even present.
I have no use for this information but it is what I’ve been told to do. I don’t question.
I questioned once. Once. That was the only time I have ever been slapped across the face. I looked into the face of my dad and saw the rage. I had never seen that face before. He had never been cruel, abusive or even said a derogatory remark towards any of us. Until I questioned him.
I sit and question my existence, my memories and how all this came about.

The life style we live back home is much different than what I see here. I feel like I have stepped into a time machine into the future. Everything is at your fingertips. So much color and brightness, sounds are clearer and more vibrant. Clothing is much different. The warm weather has girls revealing most of their bodies. I remain covered up. I’m not ashamed of my body, but back home when there is snow on the ground more than there is not, one tends to dress warmer. I look down at my own body and think that most of these girls have nothing on me. I walked into a store the other day to purchase a drink and was called a lumber jack. I merely had on jeans, a t shirt, a flannel, boots and a baseball cap. No, none of it was new or name brand but its what I wear, its what I’m comfortable in. It happens to be what all the girls back home wear.

My attention is peaked when I see the side door to the building open. He steps out.
And hence my question, why him. I see no harm in him. He looks likable, he’s attractive, as far as I know hes done nothing to anyone. So why him. I write down the time and place and continue to watch him. I’m sucked in, by him.
A timer goes off alerting me to return to the hotel. I go and place the spiral notebook on the table for dad to look over and compare notes from the previous days and those to last time we were here. I don’t understand, I only do as I am told.

My memories of my childhood are all good. I have never lacked of anything. We live on and operate a farm. We have several hundred acres of land and that many head of cattle. Cows don’t mind the cold, but if it gets too cold they migrate back to the barn and are put up. Our nearest neighbor is miles away. The nearest town, two hours, so we live off of ourselves and the land for the most part.
I do have friends, they all live the same way I do. Most of them come from large families, I am an only child. I’ve been home schooled my entire life. Distance and extreme weather are the reason most children there are. What starts out as a beautiful day may end up being the worst snow storm in history.
An only child until I was asked a few months ago if I would like an older brother.
I thought the question odd, but had always loved the thought of an older brother. Someone to talk to and look up to. They seemed to know who would be a perfect brother. I asked several questions about the process of finding him. The first point made was one that needs direction in life. One is on the wrong path and has the ability to take others with him. At that point my dads voice starts to raise and get bolder as if he were one of those preachers on the radio who preach hell fire and brimstone. I don’t know how he came to the conclusion this ‘boy’ needs help.

I am back on watch again today. I saw him enter the building not long after opening and him leave some thirty minutes later.
He seems to have it together. He drives a nice car, wears decent enough clothes. I don’t understand why he doesn’t buy some new jeans. The ones he wears always have a hole in them somewhere, mostly in the knee. Back home a hole in the jeans means you need a new pair. Ones with holes are the ones that are worn for getting totally messed up and thrown away.
Today he steps out in a white t shirt and tight black pants. I notice he has tattoos, something that’s highly frowned upon in our family. Dad says ‘I’m not a cow, I don’t need a brand’, the saying to me is stupid, but after what I have experienced as of late, I say nothing.

Today, things are done different. I step out of the vehicle and follow him a short while. After a few blocks, I turn and head back. I cant.
I stop and get my bearings together and start to walk in his direction again. I look up to see he has turned around and is heading my way. I look down avoiding any and all eye contact. I look down too long and we bump into each other. He apologizes and makes sure I’m alright then continues walking.
I go back to the vehicle. This was my own experiment, I don’t take note, except in my head.


I look at him as he sleeps peacefully in the bed, a soft snore escapes him and his head turns to the other side. I wish I knew more about him but that information has been kept from me. I am told it is best if I don’t know. Again, I don’t question. He has fits of dreams and if anything is spoken I’m to write it down. What goes on in ones sub conscience while they sleep means nothing to me. We all take turns watching him sleep. Tonight he spoke of songs and what they mean to him. He spoke of specific songs, songs I’ve never heard. He even hummed one. I wish I could have recorded it but the tape recorder we have is being used for something else at the moment. Three nights ago he spoke of his friends and laughed in his sleep and then cried. It broke my heart. I wish I knew what happened to make him so upset. What was uttered was mumbled and made no sense.
I hate his hair had to be cut. Mom said the doctors had to cut it because of the gash in his head. The dye job, again, I don’t question.
I’ve been told he’s 21, I’m 17 so it’s the perfect age separation for a brother and sister. Dad says he’ll be a great help on the farm and will make it easier on all of us.
Mom reads his journal and makes copies of it each time he makes a new entry

Notes