Editor's Note: story contains nonconsentual content.
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Sarah Anne lifted the last cardboard box from the trunk of her car, and made her way up the steps towards her mother's house.
This was her final destination after a rocky four year relationship with her boyfriend Steve, and a feeling of moroseness overcame her as she yearned for the small, one bedroom apartment they'd shared together.
Opening the screen door to the house, Sarah Anne pushed the inner door open, and nearly stumbled as it gave way beneath her fingers quicker than she had expected. Nothing had really changed in the time she had been away from home.
Nothing had really changed in the twenty four years since her birth. Her mother didn't care for change, and the house had a definite relic feel to it.
The furniture and decor had remained the same since as far back as she could remember, and stepping into her mother's house was like taking a whirlwind ride on a time machine.
Stepping through the living room with the box still in her hands, Sarah Anne made her way into the kitchen, and through the doorway that led up to the attic. Taking the steps slowly, she made her way up to the tiny remodeled room she was to call her own until she could find suitable living arrangements again.
The room didn't feel much bigger to her than a closet, and could be quite stuffy when the window was closed. It barely had enough room within it to fit her bed and dresser, but it was quiet, and would allow her a great deal of privacy to sort through her life and the decisions she would have to make next.
It's only saving grace was the small bathroom that sat off to the left side. If she closed her eyes, and imagined really hard, it was almost like having a place of her own.
Setting the box down on the bed, Sarah Anne pushed the bathroom door open, and turned on the light. It looked exactly as she remembered it.
The only major difference was that the brown linoleum was starting to curl slightly near the tub, and there seemed to be a crack in the ceiling she didn't recall being there before. Other than that, it looked exactly the way it had the last time she had been in it.
Turning to gaze into the mirror above the sink, she frowned slightly at the discoloration beneath her large blue eyes. She looked tired, but that was to be expected with the amount of stress she had been under. Anyone would be tired if they had gone through what she had been through over the past few weeks.
Running her fingers through her dark blonde hair, she let out a sigh, and pushed out her full bottom lip as she scowled at her reflection. It contorted her features in an emulation of a monkey, and the image made her crack a small smile as she turned to leave the bathroom.
The sight of her little brother standing near the top of the stairs startled her, and she jumped as she looked at him warily.
"What are you doing up here, Artie?"
He didn't respond, but she didn't really expect him to. Her nineteen year old brother was mentally disabled, and rarely acknowledged questions that were asked of him. He could understand them, he just chose not to respond more often than not.
He wasn't even looking in her direction. His dark eyes were glued to the small cardboard box she had left upon her mattress.
"There's a box on your bed." he stated as he frowned.
Sarah Anne nodded as she looked at his confused face. "Yes. I just put that there," she told him.
"Why is there a box on your bed?" His frown grew larger as he looked at it.
Sarah Anne used her most patient tone as she responded. "I brought it up with me when I came up. It has some of my things in it."
Arthur's frown stayed in place as he turned to look at her."There shouldn't be a box there. That's not where boxes go. You should move it."
His large frame seemed stiff and tense, and extremely agitated as he informed her of this information.
Sarah Anne knew that distractions were the best route to go in these types of situations.
"Would you like to see what's inside of the box, Artie?"
Instead of answering her question, he turned to glare in the direction of the box, and Sarah Anne stepped towards it, and lifted it from the bed.
Pressing the folds back on the top, she stepped towards her brother's large frame, and held it out so that he could see inside of it. There were roughly a dozen paperback books in the box, and she held them up for his inspection.
His gaze dropped to the books for a moment, and he stared at them hard. He almost seemed to be confused as he looked at them.
Lifting one out, she held it up so he could see it better, and smiled. "See, Artie? They're books."
When he slapped it out of her hand, she gasped in surprise. The paperback dropped to the floor and skidded beneath her bed, and Sarah Anne snatched her hand away as if it had been burned.
"Why did you do that, Artie?" she asked with a frown.
Instead of answering her, he took the box from her hands, turned toward the stairs, and dropped it so that it went tumbling down the staircase. Most of the books came spilling out, and each one hit a stair on it's way down making a horrible racket.
He smiled as he watched them fall, then turned to look at another box she had placed on the floor. His gaze was as intent on this one as it had been on the last.
"Mom!" Sarah yelled down the staircase apprehensively.
Her mother must have stepped into the kitchen at the time that she called because only a moment passed before her head appeared at the bottom of the staircase.
"What is it, dear?"
Sarah glanced over her shoulder quickly before turning to face her once again. "Can you come get, Artie. He's kind of freaking me out."
Her mother frowned slightly before clearing her throat. "Arthur? You know you're not supposed to be in the attic. Come down here right this instant before I give you a spanking!"
The threat was completely absurd to Sarah Anne's ears. Their mother was a tiny woman. No more than five feet three inches tall, and her brother towered over her by more than a foot. He also outweighed her by a good eighty pounds.
Yet, when she barked the order at him, his eyes widened, and he hustled down the staircase quick to obey her.
