Matthew

What was I looking for up there?

I paused at the top of the stairs, leaned forward and stared into the blurriness of the world without my glasses. I heard something and it made me stop. I put my hand on the banister, peered down first one end of the darkened hallway, and then the other.

Toothpaste. The bathroom downstairs was all out of toothpaste and I forgot to brush my teeth earlier, so I needed to get some. That's why I was upstairs that night.

I dug my bare toes into the carpet and made myself ignore the childish fear that made me want to turn on every light and destroy every corner of darkness in the house. I took a deep breath and debated simply returning to my bed.

But, then I saw the light under Alfred's door. Then I saw Alfred's door partly open. I took a step closer, because light meant good and safe to my childish mind, and that was when I heard the sounds.

Now I know why Dad put us on different floors. I didn't want us to go to different rooms, but Alfred did. I didn't want to be on the first floor, while Dad and Alfred were on the second. They gave me a good reason. I don't remember it. They're liars.

It's hard to put the sounds into words. It was metal creaking and it was heavy breathing and it was little "mm's" and it was the slick rubbing of flesh on flesh, but it was more. It was awful and ugly. It was scarier than the dark. It was the thing in the dark.

Because I knew there was something there, I needed to assure myself that there wasn't. I walked to the door, my feet crunching on the carpet as loud as on autumn leaves or broken glass. I paused, my toes about half a foot from the door. I didn't breathe. I listened to the sounds. I stared at the yellow blur in the crack of the door.

When I was little, I would get out of bed in the middle of the night and stand outside Dad's door. I was afraid of the dark and being in the darkened hallway made me even more afraid. But, I was more afraid to wake him up, and see his not-angry-but-not-caring eyes asking me "What do you want?" I waited outside Dad's door with silent tears trickling into my mouth, not breathing.

I went over the scenario I wanted in my head, telling myself it was real. I pushed open the door, saw Alfred bouncing up and down on his bed, headphones in his ears, clacking at the keys of his laptop, happy, ignoring his stupid worrying brother. That is what will happen, I told myself. That was what happened.

Alfred's door never creaks when you open it. I pushed the door open two inches and I pressed my eye to the crack. I saw.

Shut the door. Walk away. Stupid. Stupid.

Alfred and Dad were on the bed. They were naked. Alfred was on his back, his head on a pillow with stripes on it. He was bent up at the hips, his legs in the air. Dad was on his knees. He was in front of Alfred, and his arms were on Alfred's hips. Alfred's legs were on his shoulders. Alfred's arms were on his back. The way Alfred's bed is, I saw them from the side. Dad was in Alfred. He pushed forward and pulled back, and Alfred shook in response. He was inside Alfred.

He was fucking him you mean. Your father was fucking your brother.

Dad's eyes were shut. Alfred's eyes were open. They both made little sounds, deep and inhuman. They sounded like animals, and breathed like they were running. They moved faster. They were glossed in sweat. Alfred's hair was a mess and he wasn't wearing glasses. Dad rose up slightly and he pushed down with quicker, sharper, harder movements and he made little grunts to go along with them. That made Alfred's eyes close, and his hips rose as well, breaking union with the sheets that I had put through the laundry yesterday.

A normal person would have shouted.

I watched.

A normal person would have done something. Your father raping your brother. You have to take care of him. Were you afraid, or did you know already that the look in his eyes was joy and not pain?

I didn't breathe. I don't think that I could. I tried to believe that I wasn't seeing what I was. I couldn't believe I was seeing what I was. I thought about what it would have been like if I hadn't seen this. I tried to make that real, instead of this. But, I was still watching.

Like the dark, I had to make it go away. I stepped away from the door without shutting it. I didn't breathe. I stumbled back to the stairs, a few steps away. There is a little hollow formed by the first step and the wall where the second floor overlooks the living room of the first. I sat down there, curling myself into something small and unnoticeable. I breathed, and it came out hard.

They were a few feet away from you. Your father, fucking your twin brother' s asshole, his big, thick body violating Alfred's young, slender one. His hips moving harder and faster as he moved towards climax. Alfred biting back whorish moans and thrusting back. Father and son. Your father, your brother.

I could still hear them, the slapping, the creaking, and the animal noises. Somewhere along the line I started crying. The tears were fat and clean and I let them roll down my cheek to my mouth unimpeded. A few rolled down my jaw and far enough to touch the top of my shirt.

Why was I crying?

There was no complete thought, just reactions. Just the horror of it, just the wrongness, just the unquestionable reality.

It wasn't happening. I stood up.

Stop them.

I walked downstairs.

Don't let it happen.

I opened the door to my room.

What will they do if they see you?

I lay down in my bed.

He's your brother.

I left the lights on. They left magenta and purple patterns on the insides of my eyelids when I closed them.

Save him! Save him!

My body was rigid, with no allowance for sleep. No sleep until thought.

My father was fucking my brother.

Too big. Too much. Tears were easier. Tears and unnamed emotion that drew a physical pain in my chest.

Why does it upset you? What is wrong?

The light didn't help. The same things were in the dark that were in the light. They appeared whenever I shut my eyes, and then they hid. They were always behind my back, at the corner of my eye.

Daddy. Al. Stop it. Don't. I'm scared. Stop, stop.

There, that was my refuge. Childhood. Fear without reason.

"No," I whined aloud in a voice that even I could barely hear. "Stop, stop, stop… I don't want you to."

Still fucking above you. Father and son. Daddy and Al. Above you.

Somehow I slept. I never remember going to sleep or waking up. I simply am awake one moment and awake the next and hours have slipped away without my noticing. But, I knew that somehow I had slept after seeing what I did. I knew I was lying on my side in my bed and there was sun behind my curtains.

There was no respite in morning haze. I remembered instantly what had happened. It was so ridiculous, it had to be a dream. But, I remembered getting up so clearly. I thought about it for a while. I knew it wasn't a dream. It happened. I saw it.

And then I screamed.