Read or purchase the series at The Gifted Book Series
We had babysitters/housekeepers after my dad died, but when I was old enough, I became the babysitter/housekeeper. My little brother, Landon, was starting to get into drugs in a big way. He would sometimes be missing for days, and when he finally came home, he was often very drunk or high or both.
Once when I was babysitting, he made a run for the door, even though he was supposed to be confined to the house, and I grabbed him. “Let me go!” he yelled.
“You’re not leaving!” I told him.
We wrestled for a few minutes and then found ourselves locked in a kind of mutual death-grip. He hated the fact that I was older and still had more strength than he did even though he was a championship wrestler for his weight division. He had his hands around my throat, and I had him in a headlock with my legs wrapped around his stomach. It wasn’t comfortable, but neither one of us would let go. We sat like that for a couple of hours, me struggling to breathe but not so much that my air was totally cut off. I would ask him every once in a while if he would agree to stay home, but he kept saying no.
Finally, he figured out I wasn’t going to give up, so he did. I can’t say anything about what happened the nights afterward, but that was at least one evening he stayed home.Read or purchase the series at The Gifted Book Series