Liquor, puke, and blood.

The scents blend together to form a disgusting sea of filth in the air around us.

I shift my gaze to my right, attempting to lock eyes with the boy who sits tied up in a chair beside me. He’s shaking, his entire twelve-year-old frame quivering as he stares down at his clothes, wide eyed.

“Look at me, Tommy,” I hear myself command, my voice a firm whisper. I glance quickly at the monster, ensuring his back is still turned as he digs through the kitchen cabinets, then return my attention to the petrified boy. “You’ll look at me right now, you hear me?”

Finally his head shifts toward me, his movements stiff. It’s then that I see the way his teeth are chattering.

“What do you see?”

“I-I-I see you. I see you.”

“Uh-huh. And who am I?”

“M-my brother.”

“That’s right. And is there any mess we haven’t gotten out of together, little brother?”

He swallows, then shakes his head.

“Damn straight.”

Tommy’s gaze drops to my clothes, then raises back up to meet mine. “Y-you’re going to be okay. He didn’t soak you in the liquor like he did me.”

I feel the snap of my jaw as my teeth grind together. My hands tug and yank behind me, still fumbling hard with the old rope I’ve gotten to know so well. “That’s because he’s a twisted fuck,” I answer. “Not because he’s feeling generous. He wants me to watch you suffer before he moves on to me.”

“Goddamn bastard! He tell you that?” Tommy shrieks, and we both swing our heads toward the monster. He doesn’t seem to have heard us though, so we turn back to face each other.

A grin stretches across my face despite the morbid clusterfuck we’re in. “So all it took was knowing your big bro’s life is at stake, too, for you to remember you’ve got a big ol’ pair of balls in there? Well, shit, I should have said something sooner.”

Just when Tommy starts to grin back, a loud roar rips through the kitchen. “Where is it!” The monster whirls around to face us then stomps over, his eyes narrowing right at me, index finger shoving against my chest. “You. I know you did this. Where are all the matches? Where are they!”

“What, so I can help you light your kid on fire? You sick son of a bitch.”

The monster’s face twists into something ugly as he sneers down at me, taking a step closer. His nose is red, pupils dilated, and I glimpse white residue around his nostrils. “Nah, boy. Think you got me confused with yourself. You’re the real son of a bitch, ain’t you? Your mom’s mistaken if she thinks she can run off with another man without you two havin’ to pay.” I cry out as he digs his finger into an open gash on my thigh, crippling pain shooting all the way to my chest. “I ain’t gonna kill you boys. Just teach her another lesson is all.”

A snarl sounds from my right, taking us both by surprise. Little Tommy’s got the fiery look in his eyes I usually only see in my own reflection. “She doesn’t give a damn about your so-called ‘lessons,’ Pops! Stop using her as a shit excuse to take out your demented rage on us!”

The man before us stops, angles himself toward Tommy, and stares at him almost as though seeing him for the first time. “What’d you say to me?”

Shit. My eyes close briefly as I shake my head, my hands fighting harder than ever to get freed. I almost smile when I feel the blood start to trickle down my wrists. So close now. “Forget him,” I mutter. “You were talking to me, remember?”

“You shut your mouth. I believe Tommy, on the other hand, has somethin’ to say. Anything else you’d like to add to that, little boy?” He inches closer, until the toes of his boots slam against Tommy’s.

Tommy’s eyes go wide, losing all of their spark as he watches the monster reach into his back pocket. “Uh, n-no. That was it.”

“You sure about that?” A large, silver pocket knife appears in his hand, and he runs the blade smoothly across his fingers.

Tommy’s swallow could be heard from where I sit. “Y-yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good. Now you know it pains me to do this,” he says with a soft chuckle, “but I still gotta teach you a lesson for that attitude of yours. I swear your mom gave you boys her worst qualities. Hmm, been awhile since I gave you a tattoo, hasn’t it?” He bends forward, eyes scanning over Tommy’s small torso. “Now where would you like it? I’ll even let you choose.”

I don’t know if there’s a name for the sensation that suddenly swells inside me, flooding my lungs with hot fumes, but I do know it’s filled with red. Scorching flames of red, setting my veins on fire until I can’t see clearly, can’t think. There is one, single thought that rings through with utter clarity, though. Right here, right now, is where this ends.

And I’m going to be the one to end it.

I wake up to the racing pulse I’m beginning to get a little too familiar with. Dammit. I wasn’t supposed to wake up yet. I need to fall back asleep. I’m overcome with an urgent, desperate need to know that the brothers got out of there alive, that they’re okay. That they’re safe. Did he end it like he’d intended? Where is the closure for these poor boys? When will enough be enough?

My hand comes up to my chest, expecting to find a frantic rhythm beating within, but for a moment, I don’t feel anything at all. And it scares the living hell out me. I freeze, palm still pressed against me, until finally I feel a vague thump. Then another. A breath of relief pours out of me, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

Calm down. You’re okay.

He said I’d be fine, and I am.

I remember then that he was still here when I’d fallen asleep, and I quickly scan the room. I don’t know why I’m so hopeful even though it’s clear he’s no longer here. The absence of his warmth surrounds me like an actual entity, each cold breeze seeping in through the window reminding me I’m alone again.

It seems he has a habit of disappearing on me while I sleep. I wonder what it’d be like to actually wake up to him. I bet I’d feel him against my skin before I even opened my eyes, the same way soft sun warms your skin in the middle of spring. Would he stroke my hair, like he did so briefly last night? Would he stay in the chair beside me, watching while I sleep, or would he sneak into my bed and let me curl into him? I smile at the thought, stretching my arms out over my head before making my way into the bathroom.

My smile immediately turns upside down when my gaze meets the mirror and drops to my chest. I press my fingers over my heart, rubbing the area in a soothing, circular motion. I don’t want to worry, or be scared, because I know from experience that never gets you anywhere. But standing before my reflection reminds me I’m only human. I need to feel a solid drum within me to know I’m going to be okay. And right now, that beat is slowly slipping away. My eyes close, already begging for a break in reality. I can’t do this. Can I? How do you figure out how to fix something you don’t even understand?

For a moment I consider summoning Death back here to keep me from losing it completely, but then I remember I have somewhere to be. Still, I wish I could feel that safety net I had when he was here beside me, his hypnotic voice telling me not to worry. I wish he’d stay with me just a while longer. Does that make me weak?

Yes.

No.

Maybe . . .

It’s funny, just a month ago I would have answered that question with a resounding yes. But now? Now I wonder if maybe allowing another person to give you strength takes a certain kind of strength in itself. To be able to lean all your weight on someone else with confidence in the knowledge they won’t drop you. How often does a person really find that kind of trust in another?

My mind drifts back to the feelings that took over when I was with him last night, and I begin to wonder if maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance I may have found it.

I groan aloud. Just my luck. Who else would find comfort in the Grim Reaper? And just when I might be about to drop dead, too. I frown and look up, past the ceiling and toward the sky, right as I feel another hitch in the rhythm of my heartbeat.

“You’ve got a sick sense of humor, buddy.”