The loud bang on my door at two in the morning forced one of my eyes to crack open slightly, causing it to sting. The kind of sting that told you to go back to sleep. Three more boisterous bangs on the door made me slowly get out my bed. Passing my dresser, I grabbed my light-weight silk robe that made me think of my family. I really miss them, I haven't seen them in a while.
It was only until I got to the the curved doorway that I realized how odd the situation seemed. Who was at my house this early? Or late should I say? I gently put my eye on the rim of the peep-hole to get a look at who was behind this disturbance. Seeing no one in the pathway made my heart start to race. The kind of racing and thumping that you feel when the loud “bang” occurs as you watch fireworks. I had many choices, I could run cowardly back to my room and hope this unknown figure at my door eventually goes away... Or I could open the door, see what the fuss is and sternly yet politely tell them to go bother someone else at this hour of the day. Of course my mind leaned towards the decision to open the door. I wasn't that kind of person to bug out, I definitely was not raised that way. My older sister, younger brother and I were always the well-behaved, strong-headed kids that people “oh so adored”. And who am I kidding, this isn't an episode of the twilight zone, it's just a person knocking on my door. A very helpless and confused person... Lord help me.
Knowing it would be chilly out, my left hand grabbed the two ends of my robe and held them together, covering the top of my chest. My right hand slowly unlocked the door and began to open it. Every creaky sound the door made left me a tad more frightened. Just like that I was staring at the open pathway that lead to my driveway and the open street. Looking at the bigger picture, everything seemed so calm, yet my mind was going crazy with different thoughts. Does being awake this early always make people go crazy? Suddenly, something else caught my attention. It was a smell. Something that made my nose crinkle. A partial smell of dirt and another lurking odor that I couldn't identify but knew of it's existence. I slightly walked out the door, turned to the left, and found the answer to many of questions. Red... I see red. My baby brother with blood dripping from his body. There was an awkward space between his body and his arms. He held them out with his fingers loose and spread apart as blood trickled down between each one. Horror and heartache flashed over me and all I could do for 60 seconds was stand there looking at him. Blood covering almost all of him on his front. And wherever there wasn't blood was mud. Harsh, brown mud. In my mind I could see him as a little kid with his bushy brown hair and big smile that was just so contagious. Then I look at him now with his unkempt look, it was as if I was thrown into a wall of reality. A weep crawled out of my mouth just before I grabbed him by his clean hand and dragged him inside.
“He's hurt”, I thought to myself, “I have to help him.”
Acting as if he was immobile, I dragged him to the couch in my living room. Leaving him for a nanosecond, I ran to the kitchen, grabbed a cloth towel, and put it under the faucet to get it slightly damp. When I got back his eyes were closed so tightly, it caused him to get cat-like wrinkles that he's had since he was a child. It wasn't until I heard him that I realized he was crying. Small, sparkling tears rolling down his cheek to the bottom of his chin as if it were a race for which was the fastest teardrop. Letting him be, I took the cloth and gently started to wipe away all of the marks. My mind started to drift as I did this. I can only imagine what had happened to my poor baby brother. Someone must have attacked him. Suddenly I realized he must be injured. I mean, he is covered in blood. As a reflex, I did a slight face-palm. I always say it's a habit for morons like me. But, he would have told me if he was harshly injured. Wouldn't he? I just decided to continue cleaning him off as he sat there stiff and crying like a baby. For a moment, I looked up at him and realized his weeping had ceased. Maybe he could finally tell me what this commotion was about. Turning his head to the side, I knew he was about to say something. He had to, he couldn't just leave me here wondering what happened. Ears ready, his mouth slightly opened....
“ACHOO”
Nope, just a sneeze. He then continued crying. Lord help me.
When I finally got him back to his normal state, although he was still crying, I found no trace of what could be or could've been an injury. All this made my mind feel like a jumbled puzzle. This whole encounter has been so odd, I swear it could have came from one of my looney t.v. shows. Not having the energy to ask him any questions, I just gave him a pillow and threw a blanket over him. As I left him to go back to my room, I could still hear his small cries... I'm here for you baby brother.

******

The next morning I laid in my bed just staring at my ceiling fan, recalling every detail of last night. Correction, 2 in the morning. All I could think about was my family. My parents. I wonder if they knew, although i'm sure they didn't get a knock on there door at an uneasy hour. What would they say when they find out. Things like this never happened to our family. I mean i'm sure it doesn't happen to many other families, but when my brother, sister and I were young, every family in the community had drama and chaos. We'd never take part in it. Surrounded by it, but never involved. Maybe there isn't a severe problem. Maybe it's just a misunderstanding.... Who am I kidding. This isn't a situation I can easily transform in my mind, my brother needs help and he needs to know that I'm there for him.
I cautiously made my way out of bed and into the kitchen. I had no Idea what time it was, I just didn't want to wake my brother up. That is, if he's still asleep. He must be, I'm sure he's exhausted from his happening night... whatever it was that occurred.
As I walked out I saw him making what smelt like eggs and bacon, and he was wearing a completely new, clean outfit. He must have taken it from the guest room closet, I made him and my sister keep a couple outfits in there in case they decided to stay over for any odd reason. I guess this counts as an odd reason. When he saw me, all he said was,
“want some breakfast?”
My jaw dropped. Chin to the ground, my jaw dropped. I could not believe how nonchalant he was acting. As if what happened was normal. He turned to me, munching on a piece of bacon and said, “What”.
My head felt as if it was about to fall off.
“You come to my house at two in the morning covered in blood and dirt, AND ALL YOU CAN SAY IS 'WANT SOME BREAKFAST'? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?”
I admit I lost it a little bit. But, can you blame me? There I was, standing in my kitchen with my brother, who was acting as if that morning never happened. It's like he's suddenly a whole new person. I mean should I have known what to do last night? Should I have called the cops? The only thing that stopped me from doing that was the thought of them taking him away. As much as it hurt to think that he was the cause of the problem, it could very much be true.
When I started to calm down and grasp on to reality again, I could tell he was looking at me with sorrow in his eyes.
“I'll explain everything to you, I promise,” he said. Reassuringly, I took a breath and lightly said, “please do.”
5 eggs, 10 pieces of bacon, and an hour later, I knew everything. It gave me the urge to cry, vomit, and just sink inside. My stomach was doing flips and my mind was in a stir of emotions. The horrific image that was placed in my mind... My brother, hurting another human being. This wasn't a childhood prank, like stealing gum from the local gas station. This was between two human beings, and now only one of them is alive. He was never like this as a child. He was always so gentle and kind. The right thing to do would be to run away frightened and call the police to pick up my baby brother and bring him to jail. But, that's the thing... he's my baby brother. In a situation, there's always a right thing to do, but it becomes twisted and confusing when a family member is the subject.
His last sentence of the story gave me a kind of chill that could never be described. Not the kind that just travels up your spine, causing you to jerk slightly. But a chill that goes through your whole body, even through your heart.
“I killed him to protect you... You're in danger.”