Fiction

I started collecting secrets when I was just six years old. My first secret transpired the night I walked into my brother’s room unannounced and saw him with a girl smoking something with an unpleasant smell. It made my eyes tear and smelled downright awful. I didn’t know then it was called marijuana, pot, or weed. Once inside, he grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and shouted in my face with his stinking breath, “You tell mom or dad…