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Chapter 21: Being a Brother

Craig woke early the next morning, before Bobby. He stared at the man for a long moment before rolling away from him and snuggling down under the blankets. He had slept against his brother all night again. He was sure he could remember Bobby talking to him quite a few times, waking him just enough to keep him from having a bad nightmare. His brain was screaming out at him that he was too old to be sleeping with his older brother, and even worse he was too old to be lying against him, holding onto him like a small child, afraid of everything around him. He started to feel chilled after a few minutes, and without thinking about it, he rolled back into Bobby and hung onto him. To hell with being too old, he felt safe, and he was warm, and he wanted to know that Bobby was close.

Bobby's arm came up and dropped across the boy. "Go back to sleep. It's not even five o'clock." The man muttered in a sleep caked voice.

Craig kept his eyes closed, but didn't respond. He could feel his mind trying to slip back into a blissfully unaware state, but his bladder had other plans. He drew in a deep breath, and rolled away from Bobby again. "I gotta go to the restroom." He moaned.

Bobby didn't respond.

"Bobby." Craig opened his eyes now and sat up slowly. "I gotta pee." He looked down at the man.

"Okay." Bobby opened one eye and met the boy's gaze. "Come on, but make it quick." He pushed the blankets back and sat up.

Bobby walked him to the restroom and leaned against the door while the boy did what he needed to. When Craig was done he let Bobby walk him back to the room and got into bed with no arguments. He still felt tired, as if he hadn't slept much. Bobby got back into bed next to him, and held his arm out, away from his side. "Get over here." He muttered.

Craig got himself back into the position that seemed to be the norm for him recently. He rested his head on Bobby's chest and let the man pull his arm around him. "You gonna be able to go back to sleep?" Bobby asked him quietly.

"Yeah," Craig let his eyes close, and could feel his mind sucking him into the void Bobby referred to as sleep.

"If I'm not here when you wake up, you don't move from this bed. You yell for me, and I'll come and get you. If you get up on your own I'll bust you ass. Got it?" Bobby asked.

"Got it," Craig remembered mumbling as the slumber took over and he was back into a state of unknowing, at least for the most part. He felt Bobby next to him, and he could feel the rhythm of his breathing, and the beat of his heart. He was lost in those sounds and those feelings. He knew when Bobby moved, pulling away from him, sometime later, but he was in enough of a sleep that he couldn't protest, or hold onto him to keep him close. He wanted to wake up and go where ever it was his brother was going, but his mind wouldn't jolt enough to bring him back to consciousness. He did however feel for the pillow Bobby had abandoned and pulled his into his arms, hugging onto it and burying his face into it.

He could feel the dreams starting, but Bobby wasn't there to talk them away this time. The visions started out as they always did, with his father and mother, his mother's dead body, and all of the blood. It all seemed so vivid that he could actually smell that blood, and feel the pain from his father's onslaught that was directed at him. It had been his fault, he hadn't been quiet, and his mother had come to check on him, walking in to find his father doing what had become routine to both the man and the boy for so long.

The whole nightmare seemed to meld into the scene in the store, with his adoptive mother looking over the top of the meat counter at him, the look in her eyes a mixture of fear and worry. The gunshots that sent bullets into her body, and the men in black, faces covered with ski masks. The strike to his cheek brought a yell to the back of his throat that didn't quite make it out, and the feel of a hand snaking down into areas that he'd been told no one would ever touch again made him feel nauseous. He screamed out, he was sure of it, though when it had actually happened he hadn't been able to make a noise. The quiet voice in his ear telling him that he'd wanted that for a long time and that he'd heard from a good source that he was a good fuck made the boy feel dirty, and his whole body cringed.

Then everything went completely black and he could only feel the cruel intention directed at him with no way of controlling what was being done, or fighting back. He cried out for Bobby in his mind, wanting him to make it stop. He wanted it all to stop, to go away. He wanted the hands to stop grabbing at him, and pushing and pulling on him. He couldn't see where they were or who they belonged to. He could only hear voices, and feel the pain that was inflicted when he did try to struggle. He could feel his legs kicking out, and he felt himself pulling away from the pillow he'd been hugging onto. He knew he was dreaming, and he wanted to wake up. He tried to wake up, but he couldn't bring his whole mind out of the state that he was in, not enough open his eyes and lose the visions, or now the lack of visions that were attacking him.

"Craig it's okay." The voice sounded faint, and so detached from what he was experiencing that he didn't recognize it, and barely understood the words.

"Craig you can wake up now." The voice was accompanied by arms this time, arms that were grabbing hold of him and pulling on him, wrapping around him and preventing him from struggling in any way other than to start kicking, and that's what he did. He tried to kick out, in any direction that he could.

He felt himself being pulled out of the bed and the cool air of the room which started his body shivering hard. He screamed out, and he tried to pull away from who ever had their hold on him. He didn't like not having the control of his own body; it sent terror stinging at every nerve. The voice tried to talk to him again, but he kept screaming, and struggling, not sure of what was going on around him. He heard himself screaming out for Bobby, he wanted his brother to make it stop. Then he felt the arms around him tighten their hold and the voice seemed close to his left ear. "I'm right here kid, I've got you. Wake up now before I toss your ass in the shower." The voice sounded calm, and steady, and it was Bobby's. The realization stopped the boy from struggling instantly, and his legs and arms went limp. He let himself lean back into the man that was holding him and relax. The arms holding him seemed to tighten and had to hold him up. "Craig, wake your ass up now before I drop you." Bobby's voice sounded a little louder than before. The words brought Craig out of his dazed state enough that he opened his eyes. He found himself looking at the hall way instead of the bedroom. He blinked hard, trying to figure out where he was and what was going on. He wasn't fighting off the grey haze as he usually did when he first woke from a nightmare, but he felt disoriented and a little dizzy.

"Bobby?" He called out at the emotions hit him and the tears started to fall hard.

"I'm right here."Bobby spoke directly into his ear, drawing the boy's attention to the fact that Bobby was holding onto him from behind, his arms wrapped tightly around him, holding him up on his feet. They were just outside of the bathroom door, Bobby leaning back against the wall. "Put your feet on the floor." Bobby sounded calm, and didn't seem pissed off. "Stand yourself up."

Craig followed his brother's instructions without thinking.

"Good boy." Bobby sounded relieved as he loosened his hold on the boy. "You okay? Can you walk?" He didn't pull his arms away.

Craig shook his head slowly, not really sure what the question was that Bobby had asked, but he was certain the answer was no. He tried to remember what he'd been thinking only moments before, but his mind was driving the nightmares back into a part of his brain where he couldn't find them.

"Sure you can, come on." Bobby started pushing him in the direction of the restroom. Craig had to move his feet, and he found that he was able to walk, but he felt unsteady. He let Bobby walk him to stand in front of the toilet. "Take a piss." Bobby let go of him and moved to the chest of drawers that set next to the door.

Craig did what Bobby told him, without even considering that he had to pee. He finished and flushed the toilet. Bobby got out a washrag and a towel and walked over to the sink. "Come over here, and wash your hands and face." He spoke calmly.

Craig did as Bobby instructed, calming down once he was concentrating on the simple task. Bobby stood back and let him take control of what he was doing without rushing him. By the time Craig had managed to wash away his tears the urge to cry was gone, and he was no longer feeling shaky. He turned and looked at Bobby. "Sorry. " He muttered.

"You got nothing to be sorry for." Bobby shook his head. "Come on, let's get you dressed and you can come down for breakfast." He walked to the door and led the boy into the hall way.

Craig followed Bobby to his room. He stepped in ahead of his brother and froze. His sketch pads were nowhere in sight. He stared at the bed, first confused, and then terrified. He turned and looked at his brother, ready to ask where his memories were.

"I put them away. After the way you tossed and turned all night, I don't think you need to be looking through those books right now." Bobby shook his head. "Maybe later, when you're ready to share whatever the hell is in them, we can sit down together and we can both go through them."

Craig shook his head. "They're mine, you can't take them." He spoke weakly.

"I'm not trying to be mean here kid, but I'll be damned if you're gonna open up old hurts when you can't even deal with recent ones. I put them in a safe place, and when I think you're ready for them I'll give them back, but only if we sit down together to figure the shit out." Bobby's voice was firm, and it was obvious he wasn't figuring on arguing about the subject. "There ain't gonna be no more secrets, you got that?"

Craig felt panic filling him. "But they're mine." He spoke weakly.

"But Ma took them from you. Didn't she?" Bobby nodded his head. "And she wouldn't have done that without a reason. You open one of them books up and you fill it with things you've seen, right? You fill them up with the things you've seen, and that way you don't have to think about them. Am I right?" He asked calmly. "That's why when you were going to the doctors they let you draw everything for them. You said it yourself; all they ever did was let you draw. They knew you were drawing things that were in your head and you dealt with shit that way. You can draw all you want to kid, but Ma took those old sketch pads away from you for a reason, and it might have taken me a little time to figure it out, but I did. She didn't want you looking through them and remembering what you drew. She knew you couldn't deal with it. Until you can sit with me to look at them, I'm keeping them."

Craig felt defeated; he knew there was nothing he could say to Bobby to get the man to give the sketch books back. "Where did you put them?" He figured he had a right to know at least where they were.

Bobby drew in a deep breath and stared at the boy for a long moment, as if he were thinking. "I put them somewhere safe, and no one is going to fuck with them, and that's a promise. But I ain't telling you where they are. You can forget about them for now. Just forget they exist. If you go hunting for them, I'll burn the bitches and you'll never get them back."

Craig felt his heart sink into his gut. "But…" He started to argue with the man, though he knew it was a lost cause.

"No, Craig. I'm not gonna let you put yourself on a fucking emotional rollercoaster right now. You need to deal with the here and now, not what happened seven years ago. When you are ready, you and me will both look through them together." Bobby didn't give him the chance to even start the argument that was growing inside of him.

"I won't look through them, why can't I at least know where they are?" Craig asked.

"Because if you don't know, then you don't get temped to try to sneak around behind my back, and you know you would if you had the chance." Bobby still sounded calm. "Enough talk about books that you don't have any more. You get some clothes on now." He nodded his head towards the dresser.

Craig stared at Bobby for a long moment. He was angry at the man, and at the same time, he almost felt relieved. His brother's words made sense. Evelyn had told him he had to let go of the memories in those first sketch pads, and had told him she would hold onto them. He'd trusted her, and he'd felt safer knowing that she had the pads, had his memories in a safe place. Bobby was willing to do that for him now. That had to mean something. He just wished Bobby had done what Evelyn had done, and talked to him about it before just taking them. At least his mother had given him the choice, though he was sure there was no other option on his part at the time, she had at least let him feel as if there were.

Craig turned away from Bobby, still feeling a little angry at the man. He started pulling out clothes and dressing slowly. He didn't try to talk the man out of his decision any more, it would do him no good, and he knew that, but he didn't have to be happy about it.

When they got down to the living room Craig wasn't surprised that Jack was still in his bed in the dining room, snoring loudly.

Bobby made a face at the sound of the snoring. "Come on; let's get you something to eat." He walked the boy on through to the kitchen. "You want cereal?" He asked.

Craig agreed to the cereal with a low mumble and got himself out a clean bowl while the man opened the other cupboard to pull out the cereal. Minutes later Craig was sitting at the kitchen table eating his cereal, still trying to make himself stay angry with Bobby. He was really trying, but the man was acting normal, as if nothing had wrong had happened. He knew Bobby was right about the sketch pads, and he really wasn't as upset as he was trying to be. It just didn't feel right to give into the urge to agree with the man, yet.

Bobby sat across from him at the table and was telling him that Jerry had called earlier and would be by a little later. Green had called with some information about the two kids that had been in the car from the night before, and Angel had gone out to ask a few people he knew some questions about what they might have heard about the incident from the night before. They had been gang members, but they weren't sure which gang. They had also been young, and Bobby seemed to feel badly that his actions had killed them. He remarked that if he'd known just how young they really were that he might have tried another approach, and maybe no one would have had to have been killed. "But it was you and Angel, or them, and they didn't leave me much choice." He stated in a quiet voice.

He also said that the police had found an ID on one of the bodies and when Green had called he'd been able to give them a name. Dwayne Hutchins. That was just about the only information Angel had left the house with, but Bobby was sure he'd come home with plenty more. If someone besides a bunch of teenage gang bangers were after them, Angel would know by the time he got back to the house.

The man was talking almost nonstop and Craig found himself letting go of the sketch pad irritation and listening to what Bobby was saying. He silently promised himself that he would be angry at Bobby later. He didn't want to be angry at him now; he liked having his brother talking to him as if he were a real person, and trusting him enough to share some information with him. Bobby had always treated him like a little kid that he didn't want hanging around before. Recently he'd still be treating him like a little kid, but he'd been taking care of him and he did like having Bobby take care of him. Now he was sitting there telling him everything that was going on, and treating him more like a brother than he ever had. How could he possibly stay angry about some sketch pads when the man was letting him be a part of what was going on? He was talking to him as if he was fourteen years old and not a small child, and Craig liked the way it felt. He liked the feeling of Bobby just being his brother.