Josie opened her eyes a crack and looked her naked body over in the mirror.
The sight made her wince.
Her body had changed so much over the last few years. Where there were once sharp lines and flat plains there were now generous curves and heavy mounds that fought to escape every item of clothing she tried to squash herself into.
She knew her breasts were too heavy and her chunky ass stuck out too far. Her little pout of a tummy bothered her the most though. She tried to suck it in, but she could still see the subtle ring of plumpness that had developed around her navel. Every time she looked at her body she could practically see her mother's face in the mirror behind her, distorted by revulsion at what her daughter had let herself become.
Her supposed friends were no better. She had overheard them enough times to know they reveled in her sudden weight gain and how all the boys' attention was supposedly drifting elsewhere. It seemed Josie could not escape judgment, least of all when she stayed at home, where her mother controlled her dinner portions and made snide comments if she saw Josie eating so much as a rice cake.
What annoyed Josie the most was that she wasn't even fat. Not really. She just wasn't the stick insect she used to be. In her late teenage years hormones had wracked her body, giving her a generous helping of tits and ass as well as other curves she had not asked for. It wasn't like she ate more or exercised less.
It was her parents her gave her these genes. Josie's only crime, as she could see it, was that she refused to live like her ascetic monk of a mother.
The only person she had left in her life, who had made her feel she had any kind of self-worth, was Clark.
But then, they had taken him away too.
She had a plan to get him back though. It was a bold plan and, for Josie especially, it was absolutely terrifying to contemplate.
Not sure her courage would hold for much longer, Josie pulled on her underwear. Her mother had thrown out her old bras and panties and had replaced them with body constricting shape-wear. She covered these with a baggy sweater and jeans. Then she picked up the envelope on her desk and walked out into the hallway.
Clark's room was just two doors down, past their shared bathroom. When she reached it she paused and peeked through the gap he had left in the doorway.
Clark was just sitting on his bed. His expression was the same vacant one he had worn since he had returned from the hospital last month.
Their mother and father really should have been here, sitting with him, talking to him, but they were cowards. Dad never left work anymore and their mother always had some social engagement or pilates class to get to. For each of them there was always a reason, anything to help them escape dealing with their fat daughter or their broken son.
Looking at him now, Josie was struck with a stabbing pain. She was at least partly to blame for the miserable state he was in, and it was up to her to get him out of it.
She knocked on Clark's door, but he gave no indication that he heard her, he simply stared ahead at the blank wall.
She came closer, but still he did not look up. Only a few months previously his eyes would have been burning her skin with their intensity. Something flipped over in her stomach at that memory.
Her hands shook as she held out the envelope.
They steadied somewhat when she looked down into his dull eyes. The fire that had burned within them had been snuffed out and now there appeared to be no sentience left capable of shaming her for what she was about to do. It made it easier, but it also caused a painful constricting in her gut to flare up.
What if she was too late?
When he failed to take the envelope she hesitated, then thrust it forward and let it fall to where his thighs were pressed together. She spun and walked briskly out the room before she could change her mind.
Clark was all she had left in the world, and she was willing to risk everything to get him back.
After she had departed, Clark simply continued to stare at the wall as if Josie had never come into his room.
It was mostly by accident he found the envelope. When his hand moved on his leg he heard the crinkle of paper and looked down, a glimmer of curiosity flashing through the dense fug surrounding his mind.
Clark picked the white rectangle up and slowly turned it over in his numbed fingers. Somewhere, very far away in his mind, he noted a small wet circle near one corner of the paper, which had turned it transparent.
Had his sister been crying when she gave this to him?
It was hard for him to tell. Not so long ago his keen observance would have picked up on every nuance of emotion that passed over his Josie's lovely face. But now he lived with a warm, drowsy blanket wrapped around his mind, which made difficult for him to focus on anything.
The drugs they had given him were supposedly a life raft. But, after they had bundled him into it they had then cast him loose and left him to float free on the warm tropical ocean where time never seemed to pass and memories just melted away.
They had been right about one thing, he did not feel so sad any more. But then, he did not feel anything anymore.
It took him a long time to open the letter. He would have probably just ignored it and continued to stare at the wall, but he dimly remembered something strange in the way Josie had been acting. Had she been distressed? Embarrassed?
She was constantly concerned for him; she seemed to be the only one.
He briefly wondered why Josie was still home. Hadn't the colleges all gone back now? He would have puzzled it out more, but the thought slipped away from him. It was just another distant concern and, when things were seen from the extremely distant perspective he now had, it was hard to believe they were real.
Finally, as if he were moving through thick molasses, Clark lifted the flap of the envelope. It was not stuck down and now it pointed at him, just another finger of accusation.
He dragged the letter out and flattened it carefully against his knee. He stared at the words. He recognized that they were in Josie's looping handwriting, but discerning their meaning was like trying to focus on something underwater.
Eventually, the words seemed to snag a loose edge of his attention. As they settled into a rough arrangement that he could just about make meaning of, he was surprised to find that his tissue-thin focus was actually holding together. It had been a very long time since that had happened.
Dear little brother,
First of all, I am writing to you to apologize. I know I had some part in what pushed you over the edge and for that I will never forgive myself.
I did not understand for a long time. I saw you the way they all did, as some kind of perv or freak. I used to hate the way you lurked around me, always watching, always staring. It made me feel naked before you. But I am beginning to realize that those were my own insecurities. There was never any malice behind what you did. You just watched.
I know you always had a special place for me, and I used to resent you following me wherever I went. I remember shouting at you when you tried to peek into the bathroom when I was showering or stared down my cleavage. These were not things little brothers were supposed to do.
Now I would do anything to have you return, doing those things again, if only it would bring the rest of you back with it. In fact, seeing I am being honest, I kind of miss having your eyes on me. At least when you looked at me I felt like I existed. I could even pretend to myself that I might still be beautiful, at least in someone's eyes.
That, for me, is what we all failed to see in our ignorance. They might call you a voyeur or peeping Tom, but you are much more than that. I have to admit here that I snooped in your room while you were in rehab, looking for answers as to why you did what you did. It was there that I found your sketch pads and went through them. I cannot tell you how captivated I was by your drawings. You capture things in ways I could never see.
What we failed to notice was that you see beauty everywhere, beauty that we all walk by and ignore every day. Not only that, but you are able to somehow capture that moment. Perhaps if we saw the world the way you did we would also take more time to stop and stare. Maybe we are the freaks and you are the one who sees the world as the beautiful place it really is.
Perhaps if I had known that then I would not have been so thoughtless and cruel towards you as the rest of them.
I am not sure if it was our lack of understanding or the persecution you suffered that finally drove you to try and take your own life. All I know is that it nearly broke me. I think, for the first time I was finally able to admit just how much you meant to me.
They said that they saved you, that you responded to the treatment and the antidepressants. They said you can now live a happy, normal life but, all I see is that the person they brought back from the psych ward is not my little brother anymore. He is the empty husk of what used to be there.
I miss him so much and I want him back. Whatever differences we had, we were a team. You were the only one who stood up for me when mom's words grew too hurtful. The only one to watch over me and make me feel like one person in this world gave a damn.
So, I have come up with a plan. A desperate one, but then I find that I am desperate. I have been reading up on your condition? Proclivities? I am not sure what to call it. Suffice to say, you are not alone, there is a surprisingly large community out there and I followed several forums while looking for advice on how to reach you.
One idea stood out above all the others. They call it a "Creeper Pass."
It works like this: A Creeper Pass can be gifted to anyone like you by someone who loves and understands them. It grants the holder a 24 hour period of unrestricted, non-judgemental voyeurism. You can read the rules below, but I want to offer that to you as my gift. My last hope of bringing you back to me.
The whole brother-sister thing is difficult for me to wrap my mind around, but I figure that for one day I can put my prejudices aside and let you be who you need to be. If it can bring you back even a little bit then it will be worth any sacrifice to me.
