Eyeball does not come home mid-afternoon. He decided to not return during the night and early morning hours. He was far too drunk, and the commotion of his arrival surely would have woken a certain member of the household that did not need any waking. Instead, Eyeball chose to play it safe and wait at his friend's house until he was sober enough to pass his father's test.

"It would be a lot easier to face him if I were drunk," Eyeball mumbles to himself as walks down the street where he lives. As he nears the house, Eyeball notices that his father's car is still sitting in the driveway. This is not a good sign. Either the man is too drunk to go into work or has been fired, which means he will most likely be drinking fueling his anger with alcohol now. Either way it will not be good.

As soon as he enters the house, Eyeball can sense a change. There is something about the atmosphere. A thick cloud of static fills the air with an unusual silence. The house is never this quiet, especially not when there are people around. "Hello?" Eyeball calls out as he steps further into the living room. He waits for someone to answer, anybody, but there is no reply. "Anyone here? Mom? Chris?" Right away he remembers his mother will not be home. She is at work, trying to pick up the slack her husband left behind. Chris is a maybe. He usually replies right away, though. He is probably out with his loser friends again, Eyeball figures.

A soft noise comes from the kitchen. It nearly sounds like a cat, but that can't be. The family does not own a cat. Eyeball listens for the sound again before going into the kitchen to investigate. As he draws closer the noise sounds more gurgled as if the cat, or whatever is making the noise, is drowning.

Eyeball stops in the kitchen doorway. He can no longer move. His brain tries to process the image before him, but it seems impossible. There is his brother lying on the floor, painfully and slowly moving about like an injured worm. The gurgling noises are coming from Chris. He struggles to speak as he clutches at his stomach, the apparent source of his pain. Then the blood registers. Oh, the blood! It is everywhere. On Chris' shirt. A few blood handprints and some splatter decorate the cabinets and part of the floor. A rather good size of it pools beneath the young boy's body. There is a trail of red footprints leaving the spot where Chris lays, heading in a direction away from him.

Eyeball screams as he finally is able to put the pieces together. Chris and the blood; too much blood. Chris is dying. He needs to do something. Eyeball rushes over to his brother's body and kneels beside him. His jeans become damp with blood; Chris' blood. The smell of it is over powering, but Eyeball tries his best to ignore it. "What the fuck is going on?" he asks.

Chris tries to speak but he cannot. It is too difficult. All he can manage is a make a few gurgled sounds before his mouth is filled with the red liquid again. Shaking terribly, Chris reaches forward out towards his brother. Eyeball takes the much smaller hand and holds onto it tightly. He needs to call an ambulance or the police. He needs to get help now. "It- it's ok," he says, quickly. "I'm going to get you help. It's going to be ok." He tries to stand up, but Chris continues to hold onto him. "Chris, let go. I need to go call someone before-." He cannot finish his sentence. It is too terrible to think of. Sure his little brother is a pain in the ass, but he cannot lose him, not like this.

Eyeball becomes aware of another presence in the room. He can hear the person's heavy breaths off to the side. He slowly turns his head and sees their father standing there, watching them. Just standing there and watching; he does not even seemed to be fazed by what is going on. The man wears his same blank expression, the one when he is caught up between the limbo of being under the influence and being sober.

"Dad," Eyeball chokes out. "You got to help us. You got to help Chris." Then he notices something. More blood. It is on his father's hands. It is on his face and clothing as well. Dennis Chambers is covered in blood, and it can belong to only one person.

"Dad," the teen repeats. "Wha-What did you do?" Fury and tears build up as Eyeball begins to understand what the blood means and what his brother had been trying to tell him. Their father had done this. The man has always been a mean drunk, never hesitant to slap around or beat his children and wife. But it had never been to this magnitude before. "What did you do?" Eyeball says again, this time much louder. The man does not move. He doesn't even blink. "What did you fucking do? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Chris whimpers again, and Eyeball's turns his attention back to his brother. He can see tears falling from Chris' eyes, trickling down his face and mixing with small flecks of blood. He is in so much pain, and Eyeball cannot bare it. He starts to cry too. "You've got to do something!" he yells, looking at his father again. "For God's sake do something besides just stand there for once! He's dying! Don't you get that? Go get help you dumb son of a-."

And then their father moves. Dennis Chambers walks back out of the kitchen without saying a word, leaving his boys to deal with this on their own. He moves slowly, his body sagging like a zombie. He is not there, Eyeball knows it. The only way they can get help is if Eyeball does it himself, but Chris will not let go. He uses the last of strength to cling to his brother, and Eyeball is not about ready to let go. He has already left Chris once when he needed him; he will not do it again. Judging by the amount of blood on the floor it is already too late. Chris will die here in the kitchen, and all Eyeball can do now is hold on to him and comfort him as the boy passes away.

"It's ok," Eyeball tells him again. He keeps his voice soft and tries to make it as reassuring as possible, but he knows he is not good at these types of things. He knows that it's not going to be ok and Chris probably knows that too. Still, the best he can do is try. "It's going to be ok. Just- just try to relax and." He trails off. "Fuck, I don't know! Think about open fields or Jesus or something stupid like that. Fuck if I know. What the hell am I supposed to say?"

He can see a ghost of a smile of Chris' lips. At least he will be able to get one last laugh in before he is gone. The smile quickly fades as pain once again shoots its way through Chris' body. The boy moans again. His body contorts against the slippery surface of the floor. Eyeball tries his best to stay calm, it is all he can do to keep whatever sanity he has left. "It's ok," he repeats. "Just close your eyes. Everything is going to be ok."

Chris's breathing is rapidly slowing down now. His movements are becoming less. He listens to his brother, hanging on his every word. Eyeball closes Chris' eyes for him, and the boy is thankful. He is too tired to do it on his own. Gradually he begins to feel less. His body is slipping further and further away from him until he can no longer feel anything. All he can hear is his brother's voice.

Everything is going to be ok.

Yes. Everything is ok now.

But of course it wasn't, at least not for Eyeball. He still kneels beside Chris, his brother's blood soaking into his jeans. What does he do now? Chris is gone. Eyeball can already feel his hands cooling. Chris' hands; they look so small and underdeveloped in his own. Now they will never grow. Gone forever, Eyeball thinks. How long is forever?

Someone enters the kitchen. Eyeball looks over and see his father standing a few feet away holding two thick blankets. His face is still shows no emotion. "What the fuck are you looking at?" the man asks blandly. "Make yourself useful and help me."

"Wha-what?"

"Help me take care of this before your mother gets back."

Take care of this? Chris? Eyeball rubs his thumb against the base Chris' index finger. The skin is already cooling. "What do you mean?" Eyeball asks.

"Duh, you dumb fuck. We can't leave him here like this. How the hell do you think your mother is going to react if she saw this?"

Their mother. She is going to be devastated, of course. Chris was one of the few people that could help keep her sane, and the only one left of her children she had some chance left at babying. They can hide the blood, but there is no way they can cover up Chris' absence. "What are we going to do with him?"

"We can't leave the body," his father says in a matter of fact voice. He lays the two blankets down, and walks over towards the body. He slips his hands beneath Chris' arms and pulls him upward. Eyeball releases the hand, letting it fall to the floor with a small thud. He winces at the sound.

"Grab his feet."

With the two working together, they manage to carry Chris over to the blankets. A few drops of blood fall from the body, and Eyeball tries his best to not slip on them or any of the other blood. They lay the body down. Dennis rolls the ends of the blankets together so that Chris is cocooned inside. Eyeball watches his father, wondering what they are going to do next. His question is quickly answered.

"Help me get it to the car."

"Car?"

"Well, we can't leave him here! Can we?"

"But-."

"Well?"

"B-but, Dad, that's Chris in there. We can't do this."

Dennis stands still for a moment, staring at the rolled up blankets and the body inside. His neutral expression changes to anger. "What the fuck else am I supposed to do?"

Now it is Eyeball who grows angry. "That's your kid in there, you dick! And you fucking killed him!"
"Do you think I don't know that?" Dennis shoots back. For the first time his voice wavers. "What do you thinks going to happen if I just leave him here? What do you think your mom will do if she found out all of this happened? Think she'll be able to handle it? Hell, she's one step away from completely falling off her rocker! And what if I go away? Who is going to take care of the family then?"

Eyeball considers telling his father that he already doesn't do shit already, but now is not the time. "But we can't just dump him somewhere."

"We have to."

"And what if someone finds him?"

This gets Dennis thinking. "I'll have to come up with a plan; a good one. But we have to get this cleaned up first, and you're going to help me. You're just as much of a part of this as I am now."

Eyeball does not know how to react. His body feels as if it is frozen in time, as if this moment will never pass. If it were not for his father's angry and authoritative voice giving him commands, Eyeball would remain in his spot. He helps carry the body out of the house to the old, beat up car. His father sets down the half he is holding to go pop open the trunk. Eyeball, feeling awkward, sets the rest of Chris down onto the dirt driveway.

"What are you doing?" Dennis barks. "Pick that up!" Eyeball looks at Chris on the ground. He sees his sock covered feet sticking out and some blood that had managed to seep through the blanket. Once again he is immobilized. His father grumbles as he gets out of the car. "Fucking worthless, I tell you," he says roughly. "If you're going to just stand there, then at least keep watch. Make sure none of the neighbors are looking."

Dennis is able to lift his youngest son's body with ease, and places it inside. Eyeball flinches as the trunk is slammed shut. "Come on," his father says. "We still got a mess to clean up."

Eyeball is not much help during the clean up. The smell of the blood and the fact that it belongs to his brother is too powerful for him. He becomes sick, adding to the mess. Oddly, Dennis is able to keep his cool. He dismisses Eyeball without having to raise his voice. "Go to your room and pull yourself together before your mother gets back," is all he says.

It is over two hours later at four o'clock. His father works away in the kitchen, cleaning up the mess without asking for help. Is for the best; Dennis will able to come up with a cover up story without having to worry about his dumb son messing things up more. The day's events had worn out Eyeball, and he is able to fall into a restless sleep. He does not wake up until he hears the front door slam. Eyeball opens his eyes immediately, and waits for the next sound. Was it his father? Has he already cleaned up and got rid of the body? There are heavy footsteps on the stairs. Yes, it must be his father. The steps are much too loud to belong to his mother. His father must be finished.

Dennis opens the bedroom door. "Let's go," he orders.

Eyeball does what he is told, and follows his father down the stairs. "Did you get it all?"

"Of course I did."

"What are we going to do now?"

Dennis does not reply. He leads his son outside, right to the car. Eyeball hesitates before getting in. Chris is in the trunk, and he knows what is going to come of this trip. "Get in," Dennis demands. Once again, Eyeball follows his orders.

The two remain silent as they drive through town. Dennis does not turn on the radio to help ease the awkward silence. Eyeball considers turning it on, but it too fearful of his father at the moment. The man is back in one of his moods, Eyeball can tell by the look of his face, and he should not be disturbed. Eyeball tries to think of anything besides his current situation. He makes an attempt on focusing on the passing houses and not the idea of his little brother's body in the trunk, bouncing around as they hit pot holes.

They come to a stop in a wooded area. Dennis pops the trunk and gets out of the car first. Eyeball quickly follows. "Help me with this," Dennis says as he struggles to get a hold of Chris.

"No."

"What do you mean no? Get your lazy ass over here and help me with this!"

But Eyeball cannot do this, not any more. This is all too much. "We can't leave Chris here."

"Yeah, we can."

"In the woods? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Where else are we going to put him?" Dennis shouts back. "Let me hear your brilliant idea!"

Eyeball can sense the urgency his father's voice. He is just as scared as he is, possibly more. Maybe he can play up to this and get them out of here. "We can just take him back and get the police. We'll tell them it was an accident."

"An accident?" Dennis echoes back. He is on the verge of laughter. "You are retarded, aren't you? How the hell is anyone going to think this was an accident?"

"Wasn't it?"

Eyeball hasn't thought about it yet. He doesn't want to consider that his father had intentionally killed Chris. Even if he was a mean drunk, he could not be that cruel to do something so horrible on his own.

Dennis mumbles something he cannot understand.

"Just explain to them what happened. Tell them you were drunk. Tell them you weren't right in the head and didn't want this to happen. They'll understand. Maybe it won't be so bad." Dennis continues to try to remove Chris' body on his own. "We can't do this, Dad," Eyeball pleads again.

"We have to."

"There's no we. I'm not going to help you."

Then he snaps. Dennis drops the body, letting Chris fall to the hard dirt ground. His nostrils flare out in anger, prepared to fight. There is a burning fury in his eyes, one that Eyeball is all too familiar with. He takes a step back. Yes, it is possible that this man could kill and may do it again if he's not careful. "I don't know what's wrong with you kids!" Dennis growls. "I tried to raise you right, but all you do is talk back and run off! Now are you going to help me, or do you want to end up with your brother down there?"

So Eyeball helps his father. He takes Chris' feet and helps carry him down into a ditch. Once they lay him down, Dennis begins to remove the blankets. "What are you doing?" Eyeball exclaims. "Just leave him!"

"We need to make it look like someone else did it," Dennis says, simply. "They'll figure out who the blankets belong to. We need to get rid of them." He takes the blankets and sets them beside him in a pile. Then he grabs the end of Chris' t-shirt and struggles to work it up over his head.

"What are you doing?" Eyeball cries again. Dennis does not reply and continues to remove his son's clothing. "What the fuck are you doing to him?"

"I told you, we need to make it look like someone else did it."

"Why can't you at least leave his clothes on?"

"I'm trying to make it look like some pervert did him in."

Eyeball doesn't know what to say. The idea is all too shocking to him. He struggles more with this when he sees Chris' bare chest. Along with the gash marks, the skin is decorated by deep purple bruises. It was not only on his chest, but it was on his arms and neck too. Some of them looked older, more brown and yellow, but many of them were new and still painful looking. "What the fuck did you do to him?" Eyeball says quietly.

Dennis says nothing as he strips away his youngest son's pants. He hesitates as he ponders over the underwear. Yes, it will make the psychotic pervert scenario more plausible; they must go too. Once the pants are shed, more dark bruises can be seen on Chris' legs. The sight of them makes Eyeball's stomach turn.

"How did he even make you that mad?"

Dennis turns Chris over onto his stomach, and tries to set his stiff limbs into a position that would hopefully appear disturbingly alluring. He then gathers the clothing and blankets into his arms, rises to his feet, and walks back towards the car. He does not look back. Eyeball stares at his brother's bruised and naked body. "Aren't we going to cover him up?"

"What for?" Dennis asks as he opens the driver's door.

"I don't know. So they animals don't get him or something." Eyeball shudders at the thought of hungry scavengers picking away at Chris. "We can't leave him out here like this! Who knows how long it will take for someone to find him?"

"Get in."

"No!"
Dennis starts up the car. "Get in," he repeats.

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Get in before I have to bash your skull in."

Eyeball looks at Chris. He's going to leave him behind again. Eyeball sighs and walks back to his father. He has lost everything now.

"Now you listen up," Dennis says as they begin to drive away. "I'm going to tell you the story. You better listen good, because this is what we're telling everyone. You can't miss a single detail of this. You got it?"

Eyeball nods. He tries his best to not look back at Chris. There is no turning back now; this is his new life.


So, how many of you hate me now? I do believe that one of the catagories I put it under was crime, so that was kind of a heads up! I'm sorry it took awhile to update and for the quality of this. There will be more characters coming in during the next chapter. I hope some will continue to read! I know it's not the most upbeat of stories, but well, it's what I came up with. Sorry!