The writing gets better after the first chapter, so please at least get through part of the second one before you completely stop reading. Thanks.

Ch.1 - Samuel ponders his role in the life of his younger brother, Toby.


Toby was late. Samuel Beechworth tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for his younger brother to return to the village.

"I'll be back by sundown," Toby had said, slapping his brown cap on his head and jogging down the dirt road leading away from the docks where Samuel stood. He kicked up a trail of dust behind him as he bounced his way down the path, never stopping to look back at his worried brother, who stood stiffly with his arms crossed and his face blank. Once Toby was out of sight, Samuel had slouched and sighed, cursing himself for enabling his troublesome brother by covering for him during his depraved escapades outside of town. Or at least Samuel assumed his brother's trips were depraved. He never knew exactly what his brother did when he disappeared for hours on end, sometimes not even letting Samuel know that he was leaving. Still, Samuel covered for Toby when he abandoned his work at the pier and even when he missed dinner, assuming that Toby had left town. At times, Samuel found himself worrying that his brother would hurt himself or get robbed and murdered on the road, and Samuel would be at fault. He had known, after all, that Toby had left town and had lied, to his Pa of all people, and said that his younger brother was visiting Old Mrs. Hart on the north side of town or eating dinner with his friend, Michael. If Toby were murdered, nobody would even know that anything was wrong until the next day. Upon discovering that not only was Toby not back when Samuel said he would be, but Mrs. Hart and Michael had not seen the boy at all the day before, Pa would be furious. Ma would just cry, looking at her eldest son with disappointment on her frail face.

He had lied. Samuel, the good son, had lied to his trusting parents.

"At least I have you, son." Samuel had heard those words coming from his father's mouth more than once. "Aah, your brother's been caught drinking stolen whiskey with his friends again. What will the neighbors say? I don't know what I'd do if both of you were like your younger brother. At least I have you, son." He would then pat Samuel on the back, letting a flash of a smile light his face before returning to his somber self.

What would Pa say if he found out that Samuel had lied more than once, putting his brother in danger every time he did? Samuel tried to picture it, but his mind was hesitant to synthesize the frightening image. He pushed the thought away, bringing himself back to his current situation. His fantasized future seemed more than probable, though, as the sun had gone down and given way to blackness freckled with light.

"Toby, where are you?" Samuel whispered aloud, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and then back again. His hands were wedged into the pockets of his thick jacket, and he grabbed at the fabric within.

Another half hour passed, and Toby still had not returned. Samuel was surely missing dinner by now. He jumped up and down, trying to keep his feet and legs warm. It was hot enough during the day in Old Pier, but the nights were cold and breezy. The sea flavored the air that filled Samuel's nostrils with its familiar smell. The smell of home.

Samuel sighed, turning and looking in the direction of his family's small cabin. He considered leaving the pier and making his way down the path that led home. It would be warm inside the one-room shack, the cast iron stove spewing heat and smoke from its cracked and blackened body. The air would smell of food and wood smoke, complementing Ma's melodic giggle and Pa's bitter and caustic cackle.

The path to the house, grand as a golden road, beckoned Samuel toward it, promising rich rewards at its end. Toby had to face the consequences of his actions at some point. Samuel couldn't cover for him forever. If he was late, then he would have to return home and explain his tardiness to their parents himself.

Samuel nodded determinately. He had made a decision. No more lying for Toby. He would go home and eat with his parents, not knowing where his brother was or when he would return, and when Toby barged through wooden the door, out of breath and red-faced, Samuel would simply stay silent, leaving the coughing, wheezing boy to face-Pa.

It almost seemed cruel, but Samuel reminded himself that Toby endured Pa's wrath on a regular basis, while he did not. Samuel tried to think back to the last time Pa had been angry at him. A vague image of a fishing boat getting smaller and smaller as it bobbed away on the ocean waves, eventually disappearing into the crimson sunset, edged itself into his mind. Pa, standing over a smaller Samuel, like a monster from the stories his Ma used to read to him, snarling and pointing with his ham-like hands. Little Samuel with hot tears running down his face, feeling guilty and ashamed. Samuel had only been seven years old then, but even at seventeen, he still saw Pa as a roaring giant, looking down on him with imposing and judging eyes.

"I must always be good," Samuel had told himself every day after the boat incident. "I must always be good." What would that little boy think of him now? Would he know that he would grow up to lie to his parents and himself almost daily?

The good child. Samuel couldn't help but let out a short, bitter chuckle. If his parents knew-if they knew-. It couldn't go on. Samuel knew it. It said to himself every night, just as he had told himself to be good everyday when he was younger. They were only words, though.

Samuel wondered if it would be different if he didn't have a brother. Would he be as-corrupted-as he was now?

Samuel guiltily pushed the thought from his mind. It was no way to think of his family. He abandoned his post and turned down the dirt path toward his home, walking slowly and steadily with his head down. The ground beneath him was loose and uneven, but not a single speck of dust did he kick up.


Samuel opened the door to find Pa sitting at the table, his back turned and his large hands resting on his belly. Ma was at the other end of the table, slouching forward, her bun partially undone so that her wispy hair fell to all sides of her head. She pushed her dull, beige locks away from her face with a thin hand and adjusted her wide, doe eyes toward the door.

"Ma," said Samuel, striding to the far side of the room to give his mother a kiss on the forehead. She gave him a weak smile, her wide stare narrowing into a squint. The wrinkles next to her eyes deepened, looking like cracks in her porcelain skin.

Pa cleared his throat, and Samuel turned to face him. Pa raised an eyebrow. He was far from furious, but he wasn't happy either.

"You missed dinner," he said, his arms still folded over his large belly.

Samuel turned his head to the table, noticing that all of the dishes had been cleared.

"I'm sorry, Pa," Samuel said, looking his father in the eye. "I lost track of time. It won't happen again."

"It had better not," Pa said, his lips straight and tight.

Samuel waited expectantly for the question he imagined would come next, but Pa's mouth stayed closed. Samuel yawned and turned to the loft behind him.

"I think I'll go to bed," he said, reaching down to remove his boots.

"Good idea," said Pa. "We're going out early tomorrow."

Samuel nodded and balanced on one foot to remove his other boot. He threw the old, brown boots, caked with dried mud, by the front door and hung his jacket above them. The loft, lined with blankets, looked inviting as Samuel made his way up the worn, wooden ladder. He crawled into his usual space, climbing over a pile of quilts on the way. He tried to kick the pile down and felt his foot connect with something solid. The quilts rose from the ground, growing and warping into a mountain, until a head popped out of the top.

Toby grinned at his brother, his bright blue eyes dulled with sleep, and his sandy head of hair alive with static.

Samuel opened his mouth, a flood of emotions spilling into his mind. The words seemed to come all at once, and all Samuel could manage was a primal bellow followed by a clumsy attack. He pinned his younger brother to the floor, seething, with his lips pulled back and his teeth bared. Samuel opened his mouth to yell at his brother, but Toby laughed and reached his finger the best that he could up to his lips.

Right. They had to be quiet, for in their one-room cabin, conversations were easily overheard. Samuel was sure that his parents had to have heard the thump of Toby hitting the ground with the weight of his elder brother on top of him. Luckily, both Ma and Pa had chosen to ignore it.

"Where were you?" Samuel whispered into his brother's face.

Toby's eyes brightened as his grinned widened.

"I can't tell you now," he said.

"What?" Samuel spat. "You left me waiting out there for you in the cold."

"I know," Toby said. "I'll make it up to you-somehow, but Samuel," Toby's expression morphed into serious excitement. "I think this was the best day of my life."

Samuel rolled his eyes, scowling, and freed his brother from the floor of the loft.

"I don't even care," he said, shaking his head and leaning back on his feet. "I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I'm fed up with all of this."

Toby's face dropped, and Samuel turned to face the wall, settling on his side.

"I'm not doing this anymore," Samuel said, his voice muffled by the pillow next to his face. "I can't lie for you anymore."

"But Samuel," Toby shook his brother's shoulder, and Samuel stubbornly swatted at the hand until it retreated. "Samuel, please." Toby drew his face close to his brother's ear. "Please, this is important. More important than anything before. Please."

"No," Samuel said, letting out an exasperated sigh into his pillow.

"But I'm in love."

"You are not in love," Samuel breathed.

"I am. Really, Samuel," Toby said.

"Let me sleep before you ruin another day for me," said Samuel, covering his head with his blanket.

Toby begged a few more times with no reply from his elder brother.

"You're supposed to take care of me," he said.

Resentment built up in Samuel's throat. You've corrupted me, he thought, but he couldn't help but blame his own weakness.

Eventually Toby gave up and tunneled back under the quilts. When Samuel opened his eyes, the room was quiet and dark. There was no sign of Ma and Pa, who usually slept in the loft with the two boys. Samuel sat up to look down into the main room, but he could see nothing through the inky blackness. He sighed and rested his head again, too tired to make sense of his parents' strange absence.

As he drifted off, his head swimming with random thoughts and images from the day, one sentence climbed its way from the confusion and made its way to his lips.

"I must always be good." The words left Samuel's mouth, spreading themselves in all directions, embedding themselves into the walls, and filling the air. They surrounded Samuel, holding him close and then soaked into his skin, enchanting him like a magic spell.