I hear a horrible sound, like a car accident followed by gunshots, coming from my brother David’s room. It’s not the TV. I stand outside the door and hear him unceasingly murmuring horrible things almost silently. Fucking faggot I’m gonna rip your ass mother is a fucking whore take you out behind the barn you fucking fuck. Like that.

I go to my parents’ room to ask if this happens a lot.

“If what happens a lot?”

The constant explosions and epithets and swearing.

“He’s playing CounterStrike.“

Is he enjoying himself?

“Oh, yes. He loves it.”

Daddy: “We’ve started telling our guests he has Tourette’s.”

Shirley: “The other day one of the boys’ teachers was over and I told her David was on the phone with his grandmother.”