[b]Joe's P.O.V[/b]
I'm not sure exactly when it started- if it even [i]had[/i] a definite beginning, that is- but I think the first time we knew something was just [i]up[/i] was the day Kevin fell off his bike and scraped his knee. Nick was three then. Even though Kevin was eight and was older and claimed to be a lot stronger than us, his lip still quivered and his head tilted back before he cried out in pain, so loud that mom and dad came running within only a few seconds, out of breath and their eyes heavy with fear.
"What happened?" mom exclaims, the spatula she was using to cook dinner with still in her hand as she drops down beside Kevin, daddy following her suit.
"I hurt my knee," Kevin whimpers, salty tears flowing down his swollen cheeks.
"Let me see," mom says, her hand reaching up towards the cut on his knee to examine it. "Aw, sweetie, it's just a scratch. It's not bleeding all that much."
My six year old self stands a few feet away with Nick right beside me, our hands interlocked as we stare curiously at the scene. But when I look down at Nick I see there's something strange in his eyes, something I can't really put my finger on. It almost worries me, this look that he has that I've never seen. It's almost as if he's possessed- and I'd know that because I watch a lot of those types of movies, even though dad told me not to.
And then, before I have a chance to process it, he tiny fingers slip from out of my larger hand and he's on the other side of the grass, standing close beside mommy. She smiles sweetly at him, wrapping her hands around his tiny waist as she lifts him up off the ground.
"Not now, Nicky," she says, leading him back towards the house. "Your brother's hurt."
Nick squirms in her hold and his arms are reaching frantically towards Kevin, slurred words and babbles escaping his mouth even though he's been learned how to talk, so well that everybody that visits us always says how impressed they are. Mom's eyebrows furrow, and she curiously sets him back down on the ground, watching as his short legs sprint back across the grass towards where Kevin and my dad are set.
All our eyes are locked on him, confused as he gazes hard down at the cut on Kevin's knee, his dark brown orbs bright and sparkling with desire. Kevin stays completely still as he slowly reaches down, his chunky index finger swiping up the few drops of blood oozing from the wound, gasps falling from all our lips when he quickly pushes the bloody finger in his mouth, a wide smile spreading across his lips as he pulls it back out seconds later with a loud [i]pop[/i].
"No, honey; that's dirty!" my mom chastises, quickly rubbing his wet finger off on his apron. "That's a no-no, Nicholas."
She swoops him back off the ground and drags him back into the house, screams and wails of protest escaping his throat as he kicks and bangs at her back in a heavy tantrum. She ignores it, and we can still hear his screams once they're out of sight and in the kitchen.
"Dad?" Kevin says, his voice somewhat fearful and his eyes a mix between confusion and worry.
"It's okay, buddy," Dad says, forcing a chuckle to leave his lips as he ruffles Kevin's wavy hair. "He doesn't know any better."
Then, I watch as he helps him up off the ground, after mumbling something about a Band-Aid. He calls for me to follow, and I quickly obey, running after them and back into the house where I can see mom's went back to cooking and Nick is locked in his highchair arms folded, lips pouted and a grape-berry popsicle laid melting in front of him.
That night after dinner, I go into Nick's room to find him sitting on his floor playing with his toy cars.
"Mom says it's time to get ready for bed, Nicky," I tell him.
"I don't wanna," he replies, stubbornly, not bothering to look up at me as he continues to violently crash the tiny model-sized vehicles into one another.
"Nicky…" I warn, folding my arms across my chest and stomping my foot down subtly on the soft carpet to hold my authority. "Mom said [i]now[/i]."
He looks up at me, his not so furry eyebrows furrowed and his innocent brown eyes staring back at me harshly, his curls falling over his face a little. "[i]I don't wanna[/i]."
"Nick!"
"Joe!"
"[i]Nicholas[/i]!"
"[i]Joseph[/i]!"
"Fine!" I give up, knowing that Nick usually ends up getting what he wants anyways. I tighten the hold on my arms as I angrily plop down on the floor next to him, hoping that maybe if I can make him think I'm mad enough he'll do as I say.
Of course, it doesn't help any. He just completely ignores me and keeps playing. After a few minutes pass and still no change, I sigh and place my arms back down at my sides, letting my anger deflate. I watch Nick for a while, noticing the way his small, pink tongue is hanging out of his mouth and how his gaze is so oddly focused on what he's doing, even though I don't think it takes much concentration to crash your toys together until the point of them being permanently broken. It kind of reminds me of what happened earlier, how he seemed to be so entirely grossed on that barely visible cut on Kevin's knee, how his gaze was so unbreakable.
"Hey, Nicky?" I voice quietly, my stomach twisting unsettling when he stops what he's doing and looks up at me again.
"Yeah, Joey?" His tone is soft and without the previous anger he held only a few minutes before. But that's your typical Nicky for ya, never able to stay mad for very long, especially not at me.
"Why did you do that thingy you did today?"
His eyebrows furrow in confusion, his lips puckered slightly as if he's thinking hard about what I'm talking about, thinking [i]too[/i] hard.
"I mean, when you did that thing after Kevin got hurt," I quickly clarify, because I don't want him to hurt himself. "When you…licked his blood."
It sounds weird coming off my lips, maybe because I never would have thought I'd ever be saying, or that I'd ever be asking anybody such a thing because this is definitely not normal.
"Oh," Nick says, his mouth shaped like a small 'O' and his eyes wide and brightening, kinda like how they were outside. Then he looks down again, fumbling with the edge of his too big night shirt and subtly biting his lip with the few teeth he has.
"Well…?" I press, tilting my head in front of his face to try and get him to look back up at me. "Why'd you do it?"
He does what I want and our eyes lock, his cheeks painted a strange pink color. "I don't know."
"Yeah you do," I say, crossing my arms back over my chest. "You know daddy doesn't like you lying, Nicky. He said lying is what bad people do, remember?"
"I'm not lying, Joey!" he insists, his eyes widening again, but this time with fear, as if he's afraid I'm going to run out of the room and tell on him. "I don't know why I did it."
"There has to be a reason."
He shrugs, and then looks back down at his toys. "It tasted good."
I gasp lightly, quickly covering my hand over his too small of a mouth. "Don't say that, Nicky. You heard what mom said…it's dirty."
"I know," he mumbles against my skin. I let go of his mouth. "But it tasted soo good."
Another gasp and I feel like I should do something drastic like get a bar of soap and wash his mouth out like I'd seen this one mom do in this one movie, or make him get down on his knees and pray until he never has that thought ever again. But before I can act, mom comes in and tells me to go back into my room because it's time for bed.
I slowly get up and walk towards the door, but I stand outside of it and watch hard as she goes towards Nick, as if I'm afraid he'll try something.
"Joseph- to bed, [i]now[/i]!" she yells at me, seeing that I hadn't listened to her.
Nick's staring back at me as she walks back towards where I'm standing, a small smile on his face as he mouths, "'Night, Joey."
"Get a move on," she says, smacking my butt lightly as he motions me out of the room. "I'll be there in a minute."
Then she closes the door and I stomp the rest of the way to my room, slamming my door shut and having daddy yell that if I don't quit it he'll come in and [i]really[/i] give me something to slam my door about. I sigh, and plop down on my bed, falling asleep before mom gets there. But I feel her place a kiss on my forehead, before she turns out my light and cracks my door after she leaves out.
That night, the whole house is awoken by the sound of Kevin screaming. Apparently, Nick had snuck into his room and ripped the Band-Aid off his knee, trying to lick at it again.
I sleepily get out of my bed, get down on my knees, close my eyes, and pray for him.