SHOWER
Five forty-five A.M. Slither out of bed before dawn. Grab that much needed shower. Stay quiet so you don't wake your brother. Slip into the shower, crank the hot water. Streams of soothing liquid pound your aching shoulders and massage your chest. Breathe in the sweet scent of purity as steam clings to your aching body. Carefully wash your hair of dirt and run the soap over your chest and extremities. Your bruises have bruises. A dozen or more cuts line your body; some of them deeply. Old injuries look better than the day before-except the one that reopened. Count the scars as you wash blood off your frame; not just your blood, but your brother's.
Verbal wounds from the argument you and Sam had the day before fade out of memory. All the bitter feelings disappear into the background. You know he loves you; he took the knife meant for you.
After six hours in the emergency room, you and Sam return to the motel. You both flopped on the beds. Lights out.
Dreams trapped you in sleep. Voices from the past roll around your head like thunder in the plains. "If you can't save Sam, you'll have to kill him."
It broke your heart and in the shower's private space, you wept because of your brother, the only family you have left. Then you wept for him whose life and soul are targets of unspeakable evil. It's not fair because all he wanted is an ordinary life. You want it for him. But he can't have it. Ever. There's no doubt Sam would have been dead long ago, several times over, were it not for your intervention. But your mortality can't cover all the bases. You're one person. Human. Limited. Flawed.
"How much pain does it take before your heart breaks? That line from Bon Jovi made you flinch. How much more can you take? There's no telling; you're not even thirty yet.
Shut the shower off. Hot water will be back in an hour. By then Sam will be out of bed and you'll check his bandage. Not because he can't. Not because he doesn't know how. He lets you because it's how you tell him you love him without using flimsy, over-used words. You're no genius. You never had an ordinary job. But you can sure as hell kill monsters. You can fix your car and you can take care of Sam.
End