You always knew raising four kids would be hard. Chaotic. Loud. Messy. But this? This wasn’t what you expected.

Bryan, the oldest, 17 years old and so mature. Always helping with the 3 years old little one, Milo, and his tantrums. Always helping Amelia, 6 years old, with her homework, making it less boring. And often playing video games with Zachery, even if he was 1 year younger, they were inseparable.

Until something changed.

Suddenly, your big boy wasn’t so cheerful, so nice, so funny. He started acting like a stranger. Missed diners, always out, not texting you back when you asked when he’d be back home, coming back at midnight, sometimes later, acting moody, waking up in the afternoon. It wasn’t normal. You and Christian said it was normal, “teen moodiness” you’d joke, brushing it off at first. Yet, a small part of you wasn’t so sure. It was weird to change this way overnight.

Now he would tell Amelia to leave him alone, that she was supposed to be able to deal with her homework alone. He would push Milo away, going to his room, when the little one asked to play with him. And the worst thing ? Zach was avoiding him, shooting him glares. It was weird, because usually, Zach was the one being moody. He would even spend time with the little ones when they were disappointed to be pushed away by their big brother. They were too young to understand.

It became common to hear Bryan cursing under his breath, sighing when his siblings were annoying him. At first you’d correct him, saying “Bryan, language.” But once he snapped. Telling you to “Mind your damn business”, to “Leave him the fuck alone”, because you “Can’t understand anything”. And he only calmed down when Christian took care of his outburst. His father yelled at him, something he’d never done usually, something that scarred the little ones, even Zach was dumbfounded, same for you. When Bryan finally understood he had no chance against his father, he just huffed, going to his room while mumbling something you couldn’t hear, slamming his door of course. Christian wanted to follow him, telling him to come back, that he wasn’t done and needed discipline. But you stopped him, saying it was no use, that he needed to let him calm down.

Then the inevitable happened. You were doing the laundry at the end of the day, digging through pockets to make sure nothing was left inside. You grabbed Bryan’s hoodie. Same sake for this clothe than the others. You paused. Took it out. A little bag. Very small. But morally heavy, with a strong meaning. White powder and colored pills. You didn’t even know what it was, and you weren’t sure to want to. But you had a clear idea. And everything paused for a second. Zach’s jokes and Milo’s laughs coming from the living room stopped. Amelia’s cartoon voices disappeared, the sound of the dishes being washed by Christian in the living room faded. You could only think about one thing : Bryan in his room upstairs, who probably had no idea what you had in your hand right now. You knew you had to tell Christian. And you knew he’d snap.