Each step he took up the stairs felt like climbing a mountain, his limbs couldn't seem to decide between turning to Jelly or being as heavy as lead. He didn't know whether to laugh or to cry because Rodrick had bitten him, like some sort of wild animal. It was fucked up even by Rodrick's standards and all that stuff about him belonging to Rodrick, had that been a prank? Was this all just an elaborate ploy to fuck with his head? Because if it was, it was working.

For a moment he considered going into Rodrick's room and looking for clues, but then he remembered he wasn't fucking Sherlock Holmes he was just stupid Greg, who had no clue about anything at all. His own room welcomed him in with the familiar scent of warmth and sleep, making him feel a little bit safer. Rodrick never came into his room, not even before he had left, it had been an unspoken agreement that although outside of bedrooms it was war and they would do everything they could to torture one another, bedrooms were a haven and off limits for pranks and snooping, not that Greg had always obeyed that rule. He laid down on his unmade bed and stared up at the ceiling, zeroing in on a particularly interesting stain, which looked suspiciously like tomato ketchup.

He laughed lightly as he remembered how it had gotten there. It had been a typical Saturday afternoon, Rowley had been over and they had been making stupid YouTube videos and eating pizza. Typical, that was until Holly showed up with an arm full of chemistry homework and a hopeful smile; it was in the days before their friendship and the sight of her, standing on his door step twirling her beautiful blonde hair between her pink tipped fingers had turned him into a stuttering mess. So much of a mess that in his hurry to clean the pizza of his desk he had ended up dropping most of it on her. He remembered the moment after that awful moment where she looked down at her ruined blouse and back up at him, he had expected her to scream and shout and never speak to him again, but she had just shot him a devilish grin and smushed the remaining pizza into his shirt with a cry of "food fight!", 5 minutes later the ketchup stain on the ceiling was born. It had been one of the best days of his life.

God, it wasn't fair why didn't he have days like that anymore, why was everything so hard, why did it feel like nothing was enough for him. Why was he so… empty? It should have been so simple; he should have been madly in love with Holly and cared about his brother even if he was a bit of a dick. Simple, easy but not even close to how he felt. He needed to vent, to get it all out, but how who could he possibly talk to. Rowley had the emotional maturity of a six year old, Angie would just tell him only he could sort out his problems and his parents would stop listening and start squealing the minute he mentioned he had feelings for a girl.

An idea struck him and he got up and started to root through his drawers. It had been years but it had to be in here somewhere. His fingers closed around smooth leather and he smiled. His diary, he hadn't seen it in over a year, life had just gotten hectic and suddenly he found that he hated putting his thoughts onto paper, it made him cringe at how selfish he sounded so he had thrown it into his closet on top of all his other crap and forgotten about it, but now things were different, He needed an outlet for his confusion and this was the best option available. He grabbed a biro off the desk and sat cross legged on the floor, waiting for the words to come.

24th December 2011

It's been a long time since I wrote in here, so I don't even know where to start. Angie would probably say something ridiculously infuriating like "the beginning" I mean really, no shit Sherlock! God that girl is such a space cadet. This is supposed to be helping me clear my head and organise my thoughts but I just seem to be rambling, cluttering my thoughts even more! Okay so, the beginning, well I suppose what's bothering me is mainly Holly, I used to think I wanted to marry her, she's the girl of my dreams, okay let's face it she's the girl of everyone's dreams but lately I just can't see us together anymore and now that Rodrick's gotten to her it's unlikely she'll ever want to talk to me ever again.

He paused reading back over what he had written. He ripped the page out and crumpled it into a ball.

Hello, long time no see, I love a girl called Holly but I can't seem to get my brother out of my head for five fucking seconds to do anything about it. I'm a fucking retard.

He ripped that one out as well. It had been a stupid idea. Sighing he flicked back to the first page eyeing the barely legible writing with disdain, he found it hard to believe that it had only been two years since he had put pen to paper. For want of anything better to do he started to read

"17th June 2009

It's my birthday! I asked for a bike but mom bought me a second journal, I'm not sure how she knew I'd run out of space in the original because I keep it well hidden and she's not allowed to read it! And it still says diary on the front, but it's not a diary, it's a journal .J-O-U-R-N-A-L. So don't expect me to be all dear diary this and dear diary that, because it's STILL not happening. I figured I should keep the writing lark up because when I'm rich and famous I won't have time to answer people's questions so I'll just give them my book! But seriously turning 13 has been an eye opener for me, I'll be in 8th grade soon and I still haven't made my mark! If I don't do something awesome soon, I might be too late and my true potential will never be released and I'll end up a nobody! It's a recognised fact that if you reach 16 and haven't established yourself, you're stuck a loser. FOREVER. So I'm making a list, and I'm going to do everything on my list before it's too late!

Number one: Get a cute girlfriend. She has to be cool too. Not friends with Patty!"

Number two: Learn to play an instrument. People who play guitars are cool. I overheard some 9th grade girls talking about how they find musicians irresistible. Ergo I will become a musician.

Number 3: Get a job. I cannot survive on $15 a month, it's not possible!

Greg slammed the diary shut and threw it to the other side of the room where it landed, open at a random page. He regretted it almost instantly and got up to retrieve it, feeling stupid for letting his temper get the better of him, as he picked the book up off the floor his brother's name written at the top of the page in angry capital letters caught his eye.

15h September 2010

RODRICK! I swear god is punishing me for not praying every day because my brother is pure evil! I came home today and Rodrick was sat at the kitchen table eating fruit loops straight out the box and reading my diary Journal! And then he started dancing round the kitchen reading it out loud! I HATE him; he put on this really stupid girly voice. I swear he lives just to torture me. On the plus side guess who my new lab partner is. Holly frickin Hills. Finally a chance to make my move!

Greg did a quick mental calculation, September 15th 2010 that meant that Rodrick had left 15 days after that argument. He skipped ahead to the entry marked 30th of September 2010.

30th of September 2010

Today was just awful .I don't even understand what happened, we were all just eating breakfast and then Rodrick came storming into the kitchen dragging his suitcase behind him. That in itself was a shock, Rodrick never gets up before midday and it was like nine. And then he just announced he was going to stay with Aunty Sonja in Florida. Before I go any further I have to explain Aunty Sonja, she's not actually our aunt, she's uncle Gary's ex fiancé and she is bat crap crazy. She has all this wild curly blonde hair and she seems to be permanently sun burned, which comes from living in the sunshine state I guess. Anyway, I never liked her but she's a musician so naturally Rodrick thought she was so cool. The fact that she lives alone is 45 years old and the instrument she plays is the clarinet just didn't register with him. So yeah completely crazy, non-related but with a massive soft spot for Rodrick. Back to the story, so it turns out that Rodrick has been emailing her and she invited him to stay! Mom went mental of course saying what about school and you're only 17! And Rodrick just gives her this really cold stare and says

"Exactly, I'm 17 old enough to decide how to live my life. I swear to god if I spend one more minute in this stupid fucking house then I'm going to kill myself. You're all boring and I'm through. I'm going to Florida and you can't stop me."

I still can't believe he said that to her, she looked so upset. Then he just walked out. We all ran after him, begging him not to go, I think we all knew Rodrick wasn't just talking about a holiday. Then he did the weirdest thing, he pulled me to one side saying he wanted to say goodbye, which was odd because he could have said goodbye to me in front of mom and dad. And then he said all this stuff about, how he hated me and it was just awful. I don't even know what to do. Mom keeps saying he'll come back soon but Rodrick's my brother and I know what he's like. He's made up his mind."

The pain in his chest intensified as he relived the turmoil of that horrible, horrible day. He couldn't forget those hateful words even if the rest of his family could. He had buried his sadness under his new found friendship with Holly and hanging out with Rowley but now it was catching up to him and it was definitely making up for lost time. His shoulder burned from the bite and his head burned from the hair pulling. But all of that was inconsequential compared to the way his heart burned from the words that Rodrick had uttered.

He flicked through the rest of the diary entries although there were only a few more months' worth, but there was nothing, no mention of Rodrick, just him babbling about how hard his calculus homework was and how in love with Holly he had become. The last entry was January 8th 2011

January 8th 2011

Mom cried a lot today, so did Manny but he was just crying for the hell of it. I didn't cry, there was no point. I didn't speak to him on the phone either, I didn't want to wish him happy birthday. Apparently he's enrolling in school over there and then he'll start college this September. Mom yelled down the phone at Sonja, calling her names I'm pretty sure a Christian shouldn't ever utter. But like he told us himself, he's an adult now. He can do whatever he likes. I don't even care. But I do care, a lot. And it hurts.

Greg closed the book with shaking hands and lay back onto the carpet. What had he learnt from reading his diary? Nothing. Not one little thing that he had written had given him the key to unlock Rodrick's complicated and unpredictable mind. He hadn't really expected it to though; he doubted he would ever know just why Rodrick had said the things he had said and did the things that he did.

Greg's shoulder stung with the memory and he was hit with just how horribly wrong it was that his own brother had bitten him in such a way as that. Rodrick had bitten him before, but that had been when they were play fighting, tackling each other for the remote control because Greg wanted to watch Doctor Who and Rodrick was more interested in a film that was playing about some guy in a band. But that had been innocent; it had been on arm and legs.

The position of the bite carried with it a heavy meaning that Greg couldn't begin to make sense of, but he knew there was one from the deep shame that burned him up when he thought about Rodrick's mouth latched onto his shoulder. He got up and walked over to his mirror, staring at his pale reflection before pulling the neck of his t-shirt down to examine the damage. A deep purple bruise was already starting to form under the dried blood around the small but deep indentations in his skin where Rodrick's teeth had sunk into him, like an animal would with its prey. He studied the bite in detail, trying to detach himself from it, pretend it was on someone else's shoulder but he couldn't.

The more he looked at it the more he realised that it didn't look at all like the bite a predator would inflict upon prey but it still seemed vaguely familiar to him. With a rush of blood to his cheeks he remembered where he had seen the bite before, adorning the necks of girls who had stumbled out of closets and bedrooms at Rodrick's party's giggling as they towed their partners behind them. He pulled the t-shirt back up to cover the bite quickly but not before the words love bite had entered his mind. The deep shame now made a little more sense, but he refused to dwell on the completely and utterly stupid and inaccurate connection his brain had made between his bite and a vicious hickey, blaming such a ridiculous notion on fatigue and muscle strain.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he snatched it up quickly, wanting and at the same time not wanting to see Rodrick's name appear on the screen. He was not disappointed, or that was what he told himself when instead it was his mother's number, he pressed the little green button, put the phone on speaker and lay back down on his bed. Even holding the phone up to his ear felt like it would take gargantuan effort at this point.

"Hi mom." Greg could hear loud 80s pop and the sounds of raucous laughter in the background and he guessed that everyone was pretty smashed.

"Greg honey are you alright?"

"Yeah mom, me and Rodrick are having lots of fun" he lied through his teeth.

"Oh good, listen me and your dad are probably going to be back at about 11, so don't wait up for us!" Greg's mother was cut off by her own drunken giggles and he heard her stage whispering to some unknown person to stop making her laugh because Greggy-Weggy was on the phone.

"Mom, I'll see you then, bye." He ended the call rather abruptly, his mother's squeaky voice a little too much to handle at that moment in time. He checked the time, 9:00 pm; he still had two hours left to kill, two hours in which he could be killed by his insane brother. It wasn't like he could go to a friend's house, it was Christmas Eve, and everyone would be with family having a lovely time.

It was only a short while later, 20 minutes to be exact when Greg heard the front door slam. His heats seemed to stop beating in his chest filling him with terror and nervous anticipation of what was going to happen. Was Rodrick going to hit him, kick him, call him a faggot and leave like he had done previously, Greg seriously doubted it, ever since Rodrick had returned from Florida he had become much more sophisticated in his methods, fucking with his head rather than bruising him. Heavy uncoordinated footsteps up the stairs told him that Rodrick had made use of the time he had been out of the house by getting either high or drunk, with Rodrick it was hard to tell, his lack of coordination was usually the only thing that gave him away. Even under the influence Rodrick was sharp as a knife.

Three loud knocks on his door were the only warning he got before it swung open revealing a rather wild looking Rodrick. Greg scrambled to the window wanting to put a big solid object like his bed between him and Rodrick; he didn't care if he looked cowardly. Rodrick's hair was dark with melted snow, the sunny highlights gone, and his eyes were wide and angry, all dark pupils rimmed with a miniscule section of hazel iris. His eye liner was smudged making him look like he had had a thousand sleepless nights and in his hand was a cigarette that looked to Greg like it contained anything but tobacco. Yes Rodrick was high and angry, a terrifying combination. Rodrick dropped the roll up to the floor and ground it beneath the sole of his vans. Greg shrunk back even further into the window sill not liking the way Rodrick was looking at him and especially not liking the way his brother's smirk grew tenfold as his eyes came to rest on Greg's shoulder.

"I did quite a number on you there didn't I? You should probably put a plaster over that, if mom sees…" Rodrick trailed off looking at Greg expectantly. Greg tried to look everywhere but Rodrick and as he finally settled on staring at his desk something caught his eye, something lying on the floor dangerously close to Rodrick's feet, something embossed with the word diary in golden lettering. Greg's heart lurched, if Rodrick decided to look around him he would surely see it and that could only lead to disaster. He needed his brother out or at the very least distracted.

"So what if she does see. Maybe I should tell her, and then she'd have to kick you out." Rodrick took a step closer and Greg breathed a sigh of relief, a step closer to him was a step away from the diary.

"You wouldn't dare. You wouldn't dare get me into trouble; you know what I'd do to you." Greg gulped, oh he knew alright, but the thing written in that diary were enough to ruin him and he would take a physical beating over a social one any day. He steadied himself and took a step forward until all that was between them was the bed.

"Rodrick, what did you, before, when we were downstairs, that thing you said. Why?" Greg was startled by how sad his voice sounded, how defeated and broken down his usually raucous tones were.

Rodrick gave him a long hard look and Greg fought the urge to squirm away from the scrutiny, instead he settled for staring at a patch of skin on Rodrick's forehead. Then, without warning Rodrick turned to leave and the words were out of his mouth before he had even thought about saying them.

"Rodrick, please." Rodrick hovered by the door, running his tongue over his teeth, his brows furrowed as if he didn't know what the real answer was. Then;

"Because it's the truth."