January 17, 1967 - New York - Home
I didn't have to open my eyes, so I didn't. Instead I'm met with a sharp pinch from my arm, and then a flood of pain screws with my brain. I'm instantly miserable. "Oh, my God," I whimper. "Fuck." This gets me to open my eyes. I try to sit up but there's a sharp pain in my side, and I let out a small yelp. The yelp startles someone outside of my door, and with a shuffle of feet my door is jerked open. A man stands in the doorway. He's wearing huge, dorky glasses and a dirty polo shirt that he's tucked into his pants. He looks nervous, like he's not sure what to do. My brother is stupid. "Ah, help me," I whined. "I've got a headache." He pushed the door open and and crosses the room.
I don't move, and he doesn't talk. I let him fumble over things noisily in my nightstand before finding my stash of aspirin. He hesitantly places a bottle in my hand. Not feeling the energy to speak, I look away from him and moan. He lets out a groaning noise, but complies by snatching the bottle and getting a pill from it. I open my mouth dramatically, and he drops it in. He hands me a glass of water I hadn't noticed before and I take it from him. I gulp it down, ignoring the water spilling down my face, and when I'm done I set it down on the edge of my nightstand.
He looks at it, but doesn't move it. Instead he sits down on the side of my bed and sighs. My brother is a good deal older than me. Right now he should be in college or something, but instead he's not. I'm not quite sure what he's up to, but I know it's not what our mother wants for him. He's a genius though, I know that much. I don't think it's from our mother, exactly, but it the one thing we both share that isn't a parent. We're both smart. He could create something out of nothing. He's good with machines. I'm good with books.
He looks at me, finally, and then gives me a dorky, stupid smile. It makes me feel better, but then it doesn't. I haven't seen him for months. It's awkward, but there's a sense of security with knowing that he'll be here for me when I'm in trouble. I return the smile, slowly, feeling drained, and then glance noticeably at the door.
"Mom's gone shopping. Other guy's at work," Daniel says. I can tell he's not pleased with being here all by himself, but I'm grateful. If I'd had to wake up to an empty house I would have freaked out, probably screamed until someone came to check on me. Daniel knows this.
We sit in silence.
"What happened?" Daniel asks. I do the first thing I can think of, I shrug.
"I'm not sure," I say. "I can't remember anything."
"You hit your head pretty hard. Cut your arm. Hurt your side."
I shake my head. I know that, I can feel it. I'm in so much pain, it's hard not to throw up. "Why am I not in the hospital?"
Daniel doesn't miss a beat. "Because you were attacked."
I flinch and close my eyes. Flashes of the night before come back and my eyes begin to water. "Oh," I say. It's all I can manage to say. Words aren't my friend at the moment, so I slide my hand over and take Daniel's. "I, uh, could have, uh..." I stutter, and try to hold back a sob.
Daniel's hand grips mine tightly. "But you didn't. You're safe. You're with me." He shifts. "I won't let anyone hurt you. I'm right here." His thumb rubs over my hand, and I start crying.
"I've had a very shitty week," I say. It comes out as an angry, wailing babble. Daniel doesn't say anything. "I-I-I-" I almost died. I could have died. I try, but I can't say it. I don't want to say it. I don't want to believe it. Daniel stops rubbing my hand and his other hand smooth out my hair. I cry like a baby and Daniel acts like a good big brother should and he just lets me cry.
So after a good ten minutes of babbling and tears I quiet to a hiccuping sob. Daniel looks uncomfortable, but he doesn't leave, which I am thankful for. I wouldn't have been able to stand it if I'd been left alone.
"Has the aspirin kicked in yet?" Daniel asks.
"No," I respond, "it takes a while."
We're silent for a moment, and then I feel something drip onto my hand. I know, before I look to confirm it, that Daniel's crying. His face is rough with shame, and wet with tears. It breaks my heart.
"I'm so sorry," he cries. His head falls onto my stomach. I gasp in pain, but it's soft. He doesn't hear it. "I should have been there. I should have protected you. You were all alone. You must have been so scared. I haven't been here." I'm uncomfortable. That's all I can think of. My brother cries on me, his tears wetting my blanket, and his body's sobs shake the bed. I'm in pain, and he's making it worse, but it hurts more to see him cry.
Daniel never cries. He broods. He pouts. He get mad-he doesn't cry. It's frightening to see that I'm what makes him weep. I don't want him to be in pain. I don't want to be hurt. I don't want any of this. I don't want to see my brother cry over me. I don't even realize I'm petting him until he sits up and grabs my hand. I want to snatch it back, not let him touch me, but I don't. I let him hold it. It looks like it's the only thing keeping him from falling apart again.
He doesn't wipe his tears away.
"I'll be here from now on." He shakes my hand, as if trying to force his words into my body. "I have my own place. You'll stay there. Okay? I'm there all of the time. I can protect you. Please."
I don't know what to say to his proposal. It's awkward. There's a moment of silence. I don't know what to say. I don't want to live with him. He's been gone for years, I hardly know who he is anymore. I ask the first thing that pops to my head. "Did mother say anything...?"
"I'm asking you first." He finally wipes his eyes. "She can't protect you. If those people came after you again, she and that other guy would be powerless."
I scoff. "Daniel, you can possibly-"
"I'm not an expert at martial arts, but I can fight."
"Daniel, you're a nerd."
"I can fight! I'm your older brother I'm supposed to protect you! Look at you! Where have I been?" He slaps his hand to the side of his head and rubs at his hair. "I've been gone too long. Taking you with me is the least I can do." I shift, ready to protest, but he cuts me off before I can talk. "You're too young, too vounerable to be left here."
"Mother can protect me."
"You don't know who you're talking about," Daniel protests. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Daniel, you're not making any sense."
"The things I've seen-"
"What have you seen?" I hiss. Daniel didn't say anything. "What have you been doing?" My face scrunches up. I look at Daniel with hatred, it's washed over me and I can't stop it. I rip my hand from his. "Is this your fault?" I guesture to myself. "Why are you suddenly to ghung ho at protecting me? You haven't been here for years. Are people after our family? Is it your fault!?"
"No," his voice is dark. I feel my strong composure crumple. "This was all you." My heart shatters. I didn't want this to be my fault. I want it to be his. I didn't want responsility. I didn't want to take the blame. "Just...at the wrong place at the wrong time."
I let out a cry, and fall back against the bed. "I'm just a kid," I cry. "I didn't mean any harm. I'm just a child. I can't do anything. I'm powerless. I'm weak. Why do they want me? What do they want with me? What could I possibly offer them?"
Daniel chuckles. It was dark noise that made my gut twist, more tears fell. Daniel babbles on, "These guys, they don't care about your age. Their boss, he wants you. I don't know why, but I will find out."
I shook my head. He was telling me nonsense. "What?"
"I want to protect you."
"Daniel," I snap. He snapped up to meet my gaze.
"What?" he asks.
"Who are you?"
He is silent. His face relaxes slightly, and he looks like a dork again. His shoulder goes down, he looks like he's trying to find the right words to sugarcoat the truth.
I ran out of patience. "Who are you?" I repeat. "Why do you keep talking about these people like you know about them, when the police don't even know? Why are you so willing to protect me?"
"You're my little sister," he says as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"I get that," I say, nodding. "But you have no power. Why...how do you know so much about these people?" He opens his mouth to speak, but I'm not done. I yell, "Who are you?! Where's my brother? The weak dumbass who left all those years ago! Where is he?"
Daniel didn't react to my yelling. His eyes look to the door, and he shrugs. "He grew up. He became someone useful." He adjusts his glasses, and then faces me again. His features soften further until he looked strikingly like our father. "I became a hero."
"A hero?" I echo.
He noddes. "And I'm going to protect you. You're going to live with me."
"I don't want to."
"I don't care."
"You haven't cared for a long time."
"That's not true." He puts his hand on my head. "I just haven't shown it enough." I try to slap it away, but he takes it back before I can. "I'll have you things moved for you. Tomorrow, you'll move in." He stands up.
"What about mother?" I yell.
As he walks to the door, he calls back, "I'll leave her note." He chuckles and then he's gone. My mind is a messy place, and I begin to cry again. I can't believe this is happening to me. Everything feels surreal. I call for him, but he doesn't come back. I try to stand, but it hurts too much. I'm powerless. I hate myself for a while, but when I finally stop crying, I can't help but feel grateful to Daniel. He's here when I need him, even if he's annoying about it.
Author's Note: So. Long time. Lots of things happened in 2015. Least I can do is update. I guess. I suppose. I need to finish this story.