“What the hell is this?”

The brothers woke up the next morning to Jay shouting at the littlest of them, waving a ruined baseball card in his face. The boy’s eyes snapped open and he blinked up at his eldest brother.

“It’s your card, Jay. I can explain,” he began.

“Shut up. If you take anything else that belongs to me again, I will deck you.” He flung the destroyed card in his brother’s face and turned back to his bed. “And how did you piss on my pillow?”

“Jay, that’s not pi—pee. It’s…” He stopped. Indie had felt his wet shirt the night before and had assumed he had gotten hot. “I just got sweaty last night.” The rest of the brothers all looked at him, the twins already having climbed out of their top bunk to see what was going on.

“I can’t even be nice to you without it fuckin’ comin’ back to bite me in the ass.” Jay bemoaned as he stripped his pillow and tossed the case at his brother. “You tell Momma what you did so that you have to wash it. If I don’t have a case tonight for my pillow, I’m takin’ your pillow.”

“I’m sorry, Jay,” the little boy said, his voice breaking. “I’ll buy you a new card.”

“Don’t bother. Just…just don’t bother me anymore,” Jay said defeatedly. He tramped out of their room and a second later the bathroom door slammed. The four remaining brothers looked at each other, all eyes finally resting on the little brother, still in the bunk with sleep in his eyes.

“Come on, Rat. I’ll help you wash the pillowcase. I’m not going anywhere today anyway.” Indie took the case from his small hands and motioned for him to follow into the kitchen where their mother did the laundry.

At the sink, Indie looked down at his baby brother in concern, nearly shoulder to shoulder with him on his wooden stool. His little face was scrunched up as he scrubbed a pillowcase. Their mother had made them wash all the bedding, reasoning it made no sense to waste the elbow grease on one case.

He wanted to tell him he had seen something strange in the night, that the noise he heard and the things he had seen scared him. He saw the window open by itself and heard a horrible popping noise and then his brother was surrounded by a faint light, outlining an emaciated figure leaning over his brother that flicked out of sight when the boy sat up, awake.

But he was the older brother and older brothers weren’t supposed to be scared and go looking for comfort from their five-year-old baby brothers. Instead he apologized.

“I’m sorry about yesterday, Rat. I’m sorry I said those things to you.” Blameless eyes, filled with shock peered up at him, blinking back tears. “Don’t cry, Rat. Stop.”

“You believe me, Indie?” asked the little one in earnest. Indie nodded once, his heart racing.

“I do, Rat. Because I saw…things.” He couldn’t say it out loud. The boy looked around the kitchen and stretched out his neck to see down the hall, checking for eavesdroppers.

“Indie, do you want me to show you?” The hope in his voice was so clear and sharp that it hurt Indiana. The teenager frowned, not sure if he was ready to see his brother’s special talent in the light of day.

Indie turned back to the laundry and intensely scoured the sheet in his hand. “Ok, Rat. But not now, please. I’m scared,” he admitted, feeling a weight lift off him as soon as the words were past his lips. Tiny hands stayed his manic cleaning.

“It’s alright. You know those men on the TV that do card tricks or make a coin walk on their hands? It’s just like that.” He looked around the kitchen again, this time searching for something with which to demonstrate. A small dented spoon rested on the countertop, left over from breakfast dishes that morning. The boy hopped off the wobbly stool and picked up the spoon. “Watch.”

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

Fear skulked over Indiana; his heart was racing. He would be in a great deal of trouble if his mother or father found out that he had encouraged his younger brother in his fantasies. But he had seen something, and it had scared him more than the thrashing he would get if he was caught. He nodded once and immediately felt faint.

The small boy held the spoon in his dimpled hand, though it stuck out either side of his fist. He waved his other round hand over and under the fisted spoon and drew his hands apart. As he pulled his hands apart, he opened his fist and Indie watched, the rim of his vision black, his breath stuck in his chest, as the spoon winked with a soft golden light and then vanished. Indie fell to the ground in a dead faint, his head barely missing the corner of the counter.

Indie came to with his head in his mother’s lap and an ice-cold cloth on his forehead. His youngest brother was fervently waving an old magazine in his face, fanning him with cool, quick air. When his eyes locked with the boy’s he sat up and awkwardly crab walked backward, away from the child at his side.

“Indie?” The tiny boy’s voice was soft and beseeching.

“What happened, Indiana?” their mother demanded as she got to her feet. She brushed her skirt off and frowned down at her son, nearly a man at seventeen who was glaring in fear at her youngest, merely a baby at five.

“Nothin’. Nothin’, Momma. The water was hot, and I got dizzy, that’s all,” Indie stammered, his voice was rough and broke on his mother’s name. He cleared his throat and ripped his eyes from his brother’s gaze. “I think I didn’t sleep too good last night.”

“I want you to go lie down. I’m going to call and make an appointment with the doctor.” Their mother made her way to the phone attached to the wall in their tiny kitchen.

“No, Momma. I’m fine. I’m going to go lie down. Really, I’m fine.” Indie got to his feet, doing his best to show his mother that he was sound again. His hands shook as he brushed his cold, sweat soaked hair off his forehead. Indie made his way to the hallway but glanced back once at the kneeling figure on the tawny tile floor. The wide eyes that had implored him as he turned the corner held a hurt and serious expression that left Indie with an unfriendly anxiety.

The rest of the weekend was filled with rain, and for the youngest sibling, it was also filled with seclusion. The ostracization that so worried his father fell hard and heavy on his tiny shoulders when it came to his brothers. The twins, not grounded nor working, were not home much as they wandered the neighborhood with their friends, playing sports and games. They flatly refused to take responsibility for the five-year-old and once they said no, it didn’t end well for the little one if he pressed the issue. They were likely to finally agree but then abandon him as soon as conveniently possible.

Indie was still avoiding the little boy’s eyes as much as possible. If he could have, the boy thought, he would have denied his existence entirely. As it was, he not only shared a bed with the youngster, but was also grounded and tasked with watching him while their mother did the weekly shopping and other errands. Their Sunday passed in uncomfortable silence that neither sibling could find a way to naturally overcome. The boy’s heart was breaking every minute that passed that Indie refused to look at him. He spent a long time hiding in the wet, the leaves creating an umbrella surrounding him as he scrambled up the maple tree in their backyard.

Jay, also avoiding the littlest brother, had to work and so his anger was less apparent. But it was still on full display when he burst into the bathroom as the littlest was bathing and demanded he get out.

“You’re taking too long. Get out,” he snarled quietly.

“Jay, I just got in. Momma needs to wash my hair first.”

“Get. Out,” Jay spat from between his teeth. “I don’t give two shits about what Momma needs to do for you. I need this bathroom now or I will drag you from that water myself.”

The boy scrambled out of the tub, trying not to slip as he pulled his towel around his shoulders. He looked up at his tall brother in terror as he passed him.

“I’m sorry, Jay. Please don’t hate me no more,” he begged. The door crashed so near to his face that he stumbled backward in surprise.