My brother saved my life, and now I must protect him - Chap 1
My brother was only 17 when our parents died and took complete guardianship of my sister and I. At the time my sister was 13 and I 10. I remember when it happened. We were all driving to tour a college my brother was interested in. He was talking about the school’s good science program when my dad checked a notification on his phone and ran a red light through an intersection. A truck T-boned the right side of the car. My mother died on impact, later in the hospital my dad, and although he sat to the right of me, my brother survived with a concussion, broken bones, and a few gnarly scars. I suffered a broken arm and some scars, but without him there, I surely would have died. My sister was the luckiest of us all, she sat to the left of me and only had minor bruising.
After we were discharged from the hospital, he sat my sister and I down and declared his guardianship over us, “I’ll never leave you two. I’m going to do the best I can to give you a good life. No matter what, we’re going to stick together.”
From that day he learned to cook, clean, help my sister and I with school, and be a good parent all while working a full time job. I know how hard it was for him to abandon his dreams and become a full time parent at 17, but he has never once complained. He has overcome his fear of driving, attended every parent-teacher conference, encouraged our dreams, learned to discipline while still being cool, and lost so much sleep, all just for us. He has given my sister and I so much. He is the best parent I could ever ask for.
Now that he is 23, he has started to date more. Last month he took a girl out. She seemed sweet at first, she had dimples and smelled of candied apples, but her true self was much more bitter. The night of his date, he came home late. My sister was out with some guy getting high and I sat at the kitchen table studying for an upcoming science final. He slid into a chair opposite me, “Dinner’s in the fridge if you’re hungry,” I told him.
“Already ate,” he said.
“How’d it go?” I asked him.
He shrugged, “Fine.” He pointed to my book, “I’m more worried about you. Having troubles?”
I lowered my head and sighed, “Yeah.” He spent an hour helping me until I finally understood.
That night, I woke to use the bathroom. On my way back to my bedroom I heard muffled crying from my brother’s room. I put my ear to his door and listened to his quiet gasps. I knocked gently, he cleared his throat, “Come in.” I slowly opened his door and found him sitting on the edge of his bed, trying to hide evidence of his crying. “What’s up?” he said as he tried to act calm.
I walked into his room and sat next to him, “How did it really go?”
He shook his head, “Fine, I told you.”
I gave him a look, “What happened with her?”
He paused for a moment, then finally caved. “After dinner we went to her place. We were getting intimate… and she took off my shirt.” He was desperately trying to swallow the pain in his voice, “She saw my scars.” He paused for a moment, “She was disgusted.” Tears began to stream down his face.
I was shocked, I love his scars, they are just like mine. Our scars connect us, they remind me how he saved my life and all that he has done for me. I looked at him intently, “Fuck her. She’s the disgusting one.” He laid down and quietly cried in my arms until he fell asleep.
He always acts so strong, so tough, but he’s really a big softy. I know he wants to fall in love, but that woman won’t give him love, all she will ever do is hurt him. I may be the youngest, but I’m not the one who needs protection. She pained him and he must be protected from any more suffering.
Once he fell asleep, I slipped out of bed and grabbed his phone. I put in his password and looked through his recent conversations, hunting for the girl. I tapped on her contact and found her location. Returning his phone to its rightful place, I grabbed a few supplies and headed for her house.
When I reached her apartment, I tried the door, and to my surprise, it opened. I quietly made my way around her studio, and found her asleep. I carefully tied her ankles to the bed frame. I opened her mouth and forced a gag in while climbing on top of her. She awoke suddenly with a frightened look in her eyes. She struggled and tried to hit at me. I pinned her arms down with my knees. She tried screaming, but when I put a finger to my lips and showed her my knife she quieted down. I gave her a small smile and brought one of her arms up, hovering the knife above her wrist. She started to cry, I mocked her, pouting my lower lip out. I dug the tip of my knife deep into her wrist and dragged it down her arm. She screamed in agony, I shushed her and slit her other wrist. Despite her best efforts, she quickly passed out from the pain.
Once I was certain she was out, I snapped off my gloves and slipped out of my bloody hoodie and into a fresh one. I made sure to unite her, gather all of my things and let myself out.
When I got home, I properly disposed of my tools and hopped into the shower. After getting changed, I was met with my brother sleepily stumbling out of his room. He looked at me, his eyes puffy, “Thanks for last night,” he said.
I smiled and pulled him into a hug, “Of course.”