Bonds of Blood and Tears

By Ryan ; Edited by Erin

Chapter 2

Jeff woke to the sound of someone entering his room. Rolling over, a smile crossed his face when he saw his younger brother. Thomas was clearly just out of the shower, wearing his bathrobe, a towel over his shoulders, and his short brown hair still damp. Jeff's eyes locked on the small plate in Thomas’s hands: two pieces of chicken and some sliced apples were barely hidden under a paper towel.

Thomas crossed the room and sat down on the edge of his brother’s bed. He wordlessly handed over the plate to Jeff, who took it and greedily tore into one of the chicken legs. Thomas tried to force a smile onto his face, but when his eyes caught sight of the dried blood on his brother’s cheek, the smile fell into a frown.

"She did it again, didn’t she?" he asked in a quiet voice.
Stopping in mid-chew, Jeff just nodded his head, looking into his brother’s hazel eyes.
"Don’t worry, Jeff. She's… she’s asleep in the living room. She won’t be waking up till morning. If you get up early enough, I bet you could slip out before she gets up," Thomas said with desperation in his voice.

Swallowing, Jeff shook his head. "Can’t do that. She wants to see me before I go out… she wants to make certain that I'm 'dressed right’. Sneaking out would only make her mad."

"I can’t believe she sent you to your room without dinner. She didn’t let you eat last night, and she didn’t let you have breakfast this morning. All because she thought you were spending too much time in the bathroom… heck, I spent twice as long in there. She's not being fair, Jeff."

Jeff smiled at his brother’s declaration. "She's doing what she thinks is right, Thomas. Thanks for the food, but you could get into trouble if she finds out you snuck me food. I don’t want her to turn on you."

"I don’t care; you can’t… she…" Thomas sniffed back tears, looking away to hide them. "Why is she doing this to you, Jeff? What did you do? Why don’t you just say sorry and you’ll never do it again, so she will stop?"

Jeff opened his mouth like he had a dozen times before, wanting to tell Thomas. He wished he could tell his brother why, but he knew that if he did, he would lose his only ally. He could survive what his mother was doing to him, he hoped, but if Thomas were to turn on him, he would not survive. Silent tears began to fall once more, running uncontrolled down Jeff's cheeks. Over the last six weeks, he had become a master of crying while not making a single sound. His shoulders shook, his mouth clenched shut, and his eyes screwed shut, but the tears still flowed, dripping from his cheeks onto the shirt he had worn to school for the last week.

Thomas turned to look back at Jeff, and a look of shock passed over his face. Thomas slid up next to Jeff and wrapped his arms around his brother, laying his head on Jeff's shoulder and pulling him tight.

"Jeff, please tell me what happened; it’s tearing you up inside. I have never seen Mom like this. I mean, she has been no picnic since Dad died and she started drinking more, but the last month or so she has… well, to you anyway, she acts like she's trying to kill you. She won’t let you see your friends. She won’t let you use the computer. She won’t even let me hang around with you unless she is there."

Jeff put his arms around his brother, laying his cheek against Thomas' head. "I ca… can’t, Thomas. I need you. If I lost you, I wouldn’t make it. It would kill me."

Thomas hugged Jeff even closer, trying to express the absurdity of the idea of him ever turning his back on Jeff. "Ok; I'll let you tell me when you’re ready, but please remember: there is nothing that could make me turn on you, Jeff. You were there for me when Dad died and I couldn’t handle it, and mom was out of it. I want to be here for you now. Trust me, bro, and remember I'm here."

Jeff gave his younger brother one last big hug, then went back to devouring the small meal. Thomas just sat and watched as his brother ate, a fond look plastered on his face and a thoughtful look in his eyes. Once Jeff had cleaned the bones of every last morsel of meat and wolfed down the apple slices, Thomas took the plate and stood. "Well, I need to get to bed. Remember what I said, Jeff, and if you need some food, let me know. Mom lets me have a bedtime snack, and I can sneak it into you."

Jeff smiled at his brother. The wish to keep his brother out of the middle of what was going on between him and his mother warred with his near-constant hunger, but hunger finally won. "All right, but only if she's asleep like now. I'm not going to let you risk getting into trouble for me, ok?"

"But…"
"No buts, Thomas. My way or no way, ok?" Jeff asked, interrupting his brother.
Looking down and digging his big toe into the carpet, Thomas just nodded his head.
"Good, now get out of here and to bed. You have a game tomorrow, and I have some work to do for Monday."
After Thomas left, Jeff pulled his books out of his book bag. They had only gotten a little wet and had dried out while he had slept. Taking a seat at his small desk, Jeff flipped on his desk lamp. Opening his math book and pulling out paper from his notebook, he began working on his homework. He didn’t need to get it out of the way so he could do something fun over the weekend. If he didn’t have it done by the time his mother woke up in the morning, he would be in for even more punishment.

Why don’t I just take off? I could go to David’s. From what Mom said, I might be welcome, and God, I miss him. But I can’t… I can’t leave Thomas here alone with Mom. Leaving will piss her off so bad she might take it out on him, and there is no way in hell I’m letting that happen. And besides, I’d have to come back sooner or later, and then she would be even madder at me. I love Thomas. I wish I could tell him. I wish… well, as long as I have him on my side, I think I can pull through.

Jeff crumpled up the piece of paper he had been doing his calculations on and hurled it across the room in frustration. Frustration with the home work and anger over what his life had become since that day six weeks ago boiled in his mind. The day his mother had barged in on him and David, half naked, laying on Jeff’s bed, everything had changed. With a sigh, he pulled out a clean sheet of paper and started over. ‘Argh, I hate math… I’m glad it’s Friday. It will give me all weekend to come up with a reason for my split lip and the bruise. Maybe I can get into a fight at school before anyone notices. I can’t let anyone find out what Mom is doing. If they did… if they did, they might take us away from her. With Dad gone, she’s the only family we have. I remember Dad once talking about a brother, but he had a falling out with the family when they were younger and Dad never said what happened to him. Thomas loves Mom, and she loves him. I can’t do that to him – I can’t be the reason they take him away from Mom. We would go into the foster care system… and I won’t do that to him, either. I just have to learn to live with it. She might even be right…’

Jeff finally put his pencil down, slid the last sheet of homework back into his binder and sagged back into his desk chair. He flexed his hand, working out the cramps that had started while writing out his essay for English. Without being able to use the computer at home, he had to write it all out by hand and go in early Monday to type it out on a school computer, which was not online. Jeff pulled himself out of the chair, stretching and letting his joints pop, feeling the new bruises as well as the old fading ones. Yawning, Jeff silently slipped out of his room and down the hall. He stopped for a moment outside his brother’s room, listening to Thomas' snoring and smiling. Jeff continued down the hall past the kitchen and into the living room, where the TV was showing an infomercial for some kind of knife/blender set. Jeff silently walked up to the TV and flipped the switch off, plunging the room into darkness. After his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Jeff turned and saw his mother slumped in the recliner, a empty tumbler lying on the floor and a half empty bottle of Jim Beam on the stand next to the chair. Taking a heavy blanket off the couch, Jeff walked over to his mother and very gently laid the blanket over his mother, tucking in the edges so it would not slide off her during the night. Looking down at the sleeping woman, Jeff could remember, with a wrench of sadness, what she had been like before: before their father had died, before the drinking had started, before he had started to notice other boys, before she had found out what he had just discovered, before everything changed. He could remember her sitting in that very chair, him climbing up into her lap and her wrapping him in her arms, holding him tight, making him feel safe and secure. He could remember his mother’s words of love, and how every time he fell and skinned his knee she would be there with a kiss, a hand to wipe away the tears, and a band-aid to make it all better. When he was be scared by nightmares, he could simply crawl into bed and she would hold him close and tell him that she would never let any monster harm him… then his life became one of those nightmares and his mother had become the monster he now needed protection from, a protection he knew he would never again receive.

With a sigh of loss, Jeff picked up the tumbler and the bottle and carried them back into the kitchen, setting the glass into the sink and putting the bottle back onto the shelf over the stove where the other half-empty and brand new bottles were kept. Not for the first time, Jeff felt the urge to simply take all the bottles and dump them down the drain. It would be easy. A few minutes and all of it would be gone, but he knew that it would make no difference. His mother could easily go out and get more, and in the end she would just get mad at him and punish him more for doing it.

Jeff started to run the water into the sink, keeping the flow low so as not to wake his mother up. Adding soap, Jeff picked up a sponge and began to clean the dishes, scrubbing the burnt food from the pots and pans that had built up over the last two days. After finishing up the dishes and placing the last piece of silverware into the dishwasher, Jeff could barley keep his eyes open. His arms and legs felt like they had weights tied to them, but he looked up and out the window over the sink at the slowly brightening sky. Dawn was only a few hours off, and the daily routine not far behind that. Jeff's shoulders sagged and his head dropped, not from the physical exhaustion, but emotional exhaustion. Jeff trudged back to his room. He pulled off his shirt, folding it and placing it on his dresser, took off his shoes and socks, placing them next to the dresser, and undid his pants, placing them on the dresser next to the shirt. Standing there in only his boxers, Jeff looked at himself in the full length mirror on his wall. If it wasn’t for the bruises, Jeff had to admit that he was in really good shape. While not a muscle man, his arms were strong and lean, his chest was in the process of becoming sculpted and was hairless except for a small patch just above the waistline of his boxers. He had not yet gotten a six-pack, but the muscles were well-defined and there was little baby fat left. His long walks home every day had turned his legs into powerful machines. Well-formed and defined, they had the look of a runner. But his eyes would always be drawn back to the ugly bruises along his chest, side, and forearms, plus the ugly burn on his left leg from where his mother had tossed boiling hot water on him the first time he had talked back to her after one of her rants. He knew deep down she hadn't really meant to toss the water on him, and it was his fault that he had been wearing shorts, but the ugly burn still discolored his otherwise fair skin. His fingers traced along the scars on his right side, a small set of long scars newly healed, and remembered the pain of the bottle smashing into him and ripping his last good shirt open and the blood spilling down and staining his good slacks.

His mother had been furious that his clothes had been ruined, and had told him that till he learned to take better care of his things, he would have to make do with older clothes. He had been lucky that Thomas was at a friend’s house for the long weekend. The weekend their mother had found out, and after she chased David out of the house and dragged a screaming Jeff into the living room, he had shouted back, his last act of outright defiance. That had ended quickly when his mother had grabbed the nearest thing she could and swung it at him. The empty alcohol bottle had missed on the first swing, but the return swing had hit him squarely in the side, shattering. He had used his dad’s old first aid box to clean up. His scouting first aid training had allowed him to clean the scratches and bandage them up. Only the fact that he had scrambled into a thick shirt just after being discovered had saved him from needing stitches, he was certain.

Jeff shook his head, knowing it did no good to dwell on what he couldn’t change. No matter how much he might have wanted it to change, he knew it never would. He knew he would always be gay and his mother would always try to change that. All he could do was try to survive and look for a way out that didn't leave Thomas alone or take away the only parent either of them had. With that thought, Jeff slid into bed, turning off the light next to his bed and drifting off to a troubled sleep where he was chased by shadows.

Jeff woke a few hours later to his mother standing over him with a scowl on her face. "Get up, Jeff. You have a lot to do today, and I have to take Thomas to his game and then to the pizza party afterwards."

Jeff pulled himself up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his blurry red rimed eyes, all the soreness and discomfort flooding back to him. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Jeff stood and reached for his shirt off the dresser.

"You need to shower first, and you need to get your homework done, and then get the dishes done. I also need you to do the gutters today while I'm out with Thomas. If they’re not finished by the time I get home, you'll be in hot water, young man. Got that?" she said, poking Jeff in the side with one finger.

Wincing away from the finger, Jeff nodded and pulled open his drawer for a towel, not bothering to tell her that he had already finished the bulk of his homework and the dishes last night. If she was too hung over to notice on her own, he wasn’t about to risk her wrath by pointing out her deficiency.

"Now… while your brother is in the shower, I want to hear it. Say it and you better do a better job than you did last night – I didn’t believe you. It’s like you don’t understand what is wrong with you, and you don’t want to fix it… I just don’t understand. Is the sin that deeply rooted? I don’t know what I'll do if it turns out you can’t fix yourself. I'm doing everything I can, but you have to help."

Jeff tossed his towel over one shoulder and sighed. He looked his mother in the eyes, dredged up all the sincerity he could, and forced himself into the daily mantra: "I'm not gay: I do not have feelings for other males. I'm not gay: I am not going to be a sinner. I'm not gay: I was wrong and will change."

"Very, very good – much better, Jeff," she said, smiling at her son. They both heard the shower turn off, and her smile faded, replaced by the perpetual scowl. "Now let your brother get to his room and then get in there and shower… and remember, don’t take too long; I'm timing you."

"Yes, Mom," Jeff mumbled as he shambled off to his doorway, pausing long enough at the door to listen to his brother humming as he walked down the hall and then his door shutting with a click. Jeff's mother brushed past him and headed back to the master bedroom, while Jeff headed to the shower.

Later, Jeff stared out the living room window, watching his mother and brother drive off in the family minivan. Dark storm clouds were clearly visible off in the distance, but his mother had made it clear that no excuse would be accepted for not getting the gutters done. Jeff walked to the garage and pulled a pair of work gloves off the shelf and the gutter scraping tool off the pegboard. He picked up the ladder, walked out the garage door and began on his chore for the day. Jeff found himself not minding the hard work. It required his concentration to not fall off the ladder, so it didn’t let his mind wander. He had started to hate it when it did that, for it always wandered back to David.

I wonder what he’s doing this weekend. I think the team has a game, and they would have to have their star goalie there. He was always the best on the team: fast, strong, agile, great-looking… in his shorts he looked so… Jeff's musings were cut short by a nearby thunderclap that nearly startled him off the ladder. Only his last-minute grab of the roof edge saved him from toppling into the backyard. His hands holding the roof in a death grip, Jeff looked around and saw the flash of lighting and the gray haze of the fast-approaching storm.

Damn, I’m only two-thirds done. The storm is about ten minutes away; I can get it done by then, if I stop daydreaming.
Jeff had to rush and the job was not as well done as he would have liked, but he knew his mother would never notice, especially with the storm. He finished just as the first big fat drops of rain began to fall. He hurried to get the ladder inside. He placed it against the wall, hanging the tool back up on his father’s pegboard, and then laying the dirty work gloves on the workbench. Jeff turned to watch the rain fall. It began as a sporadic shower of large raindrops, and quickly turned into a downpour of rain coming down in sheets. I hope Thomas' game was over before this hit. His games are normally the first to play, so he should have been done by now. That means they should still be gone for an hour or so to the pizza party. The thought of food made Jeff's stomach grumble. Taking one last look outside, Jeff hit the button to close the garage door, and walked into the house, stopping off at his room to change out of his dirty work clothes. Wearing his last clean sweatpants and t-shirt, he took his dirty laundry for the week and put the load into the machine, then headed into the kitchen to make a fast meal before his mother got home.

The door from the garage to the house opened just as Jeff was putting the last of his lunch dishes away in the cupboard. The storm outside had not abated even a little in the last thirty minutes, and Jeff could hear his mother telling Thomas to change out of his wet soccer clothes.

"…and take a shower too. It will warm you up, and you smell like a locker room," Mrs. Slattery said with a laugh to her youngest son.

"Yes, Mom," replied Thomas, with an audible eye roll to his words. Thomas went down the hall, while their mother entered the kitchen.

"I hope you got the gutters all cleaned out. If you didn’t, and the roof leaks, then there will be hell to pay. And why are you just now finishing the dishes? You had plenty of time to get it all done before we got home. What you been up to?" she asked, glaring at her eldest son’s back.

Putting the dish rag back on the counter, Jeff turned around and looked at the floor. "I got hungry after doing the gutters, so I made some lunch."

"I don’t remember telling you you could have lunch yet. Well, you did your chores, as far as I can see, so you earned it. But next time, wait till I get home to ask first. You may not have earned it," she said, crossing her arms and tapping her foot.

"Yes, Mom," Jeff said.
Crossing the room, she looked over the state of the kitchen with a critical eye, trying to find some fault in the cleaning job. Unable to find any, she simply sighed and opened the cupboard over the stove. "Now go get your school work done. You won’t have time tomorrow; after church, I have volunteered you to help Pastor Johnson to get the rectory ready for the Bible group."

"Yes, Mom," Jeff said, as he walked out of the kitchen and to his room, trying to shut out the sound of ice being dropped into a glass and the sound of a twist cap falling to the counter top.

Jeff sat at his desk flipping though his history textbook. He had already read the chapter that had been assigned. He had already read most of the book, but he had to do something with his time. History was by far his best subject. He had always loved history. He loved learning, not just about who had done what, but why they had done it and who had influenced them. Sometimes this got him nasty looks from the other students, but Brother Farbber seemed to love it. He had told Jeff more than once that he had the makings of a scholar and might want to look at history as a major in college.

Jeff flipped to the chapter on the rise of Rome. The Romans had been a small tribe of people who had been conquered and ruled over by a succession of tyrannical kings. They tossed off the shackles of the oppressors to dominate the whole of the known world themselves, never forgetting where they came from. In all its long history, there had never been a Roman king. Emperors and Empresses, yes, but the title of ‘king’ was something no Roman would ever accept from another. Brother Farbber had said that was an underlying reason it was founded as a republic instead of a kingdom. No one dared claim that title, no matter how great and powerful they became. They even created a new word for their rulers to keep away from that one hated title.

His mind drifted back to the story Brother Farbber had told them in class a few days ago: Julius Caesar had been a young man and had been traveling the republic when his ship was seized by pirates. He had been taken prisoner and the cutthroats prepared to send a ransom demand. When Caesar had found out how much they were going to ask, he had been insulted and insisted on triple the amount, assuring the dubious men that they would get paid every gold coin they demanded. The ransom was paid and the overjoyed pirates let their captive return to Rome. They soon found that this had been a terrible mistake, for once young Julius Caesar had returned to Rome, he gathered an army and wiped the pirates out to the last man.

A smile spread across Jeff's face thinking about that. Despite not knowing anyone and missing all his friends, he had to admit St. Kathryn’s was a much better school than the public one he had been attending. The order of Brothers that run the school truly seem to enjoy teaching, unlike some of the teachers at his old school.

"Whatcha reading, Jeff?"
Jeff’s head snapped up at his brother’s voice, the smile slightly fading. Thomas stood in the doorway to his room. He had showered and changed into an old pair of tattered blue jeans and an Akira T-shirt. He gave Jeff one of his mischievous 'I have a secret' kind of smiles.

"Nothin’, Thomas, just studying. How was the game? It didn’t rain too badly before it was over, did it?" Jeff asked, leaning back in his chair.

"The game was great; we totally whooped 'em and bad. The only guy they had that was any good was out sick, so we just walked over them. This win locks up a spot in the finals for us. And the weather wasn’t too bad; it just started to rain as the ref blew the whistle for the end of the game. Talk about timing," Thomas replied, stepping into the room, walking over to Jeff's bed and taking a seat on the edge.

The rest of the smile faded from Jeff's face as he looked at his brother. "Thomas, you can’t be in here. You know Mom's rule: she doesn’t want me around you if she's not here, and she doesn’t want you in my room."

"It’s a stupid rule. I don’t understand it, and you and Mom won’t tell me why. Besides, I'm willing to take the risk, bro… and I have something for you, so be nice," Thomas said nonchalantly.

"You may be, but I'm… you have what?" Jeff said, looking puzzled at his brother’s broadening grin.
"Guess who was at the match today?" Thomas asked.
"I don’t know… and why should it matter to me who was at your stupid game?" asked Jeff, his fear of what his mother would do if she found Thomas in his room making him snap at his brother.

"Well, if you’re going to be like that, I won’t tell you," replied Thomas, putting on the wounded pout he had mastered.
Sighing, Jeff relented. "Fine… I'm sorry. Who was at your game?" Jeff asked, wanting to end whatever his brother was playing at. His nerves were on edge, knowing his mother was just down the hall… and had been drinking.

Thomas reached inside the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small folded piece of paper. "Well, Jess was playing on one of the other fields – you know, David’s younger brother – so David stopped by the game to say hi. I think he had hoped you would be there. He asked how you were doing…"

"What did you tell him?" Jeff demanded, nearly leaping out of his seat.
"Nothing…" Thomas said, holding up his hands. "Well, not the truth anyway, Jeff. I know you'd get mad if I told him what was going on, so I told him you were doing fine. I told him you were really liking your new school and all," Thomas looked down at the floor, feeling a little ashamed at the lies he had told.

Not moving from the edge of his chair, Jeff's eyes locked onto the piece of paper in his brother’s hand, his mouth suddenly gone dry, a dull ache starting in his chest. It had nothing to do with the bruises he had on the outside. While his mouth was dry, his hands began to sweat, so he wiped them on the legs of his sweatpants.

Thomas looked back up and seeing an eager look in his brother’s eyes, he held out the piece of paper. "He asked me if I would give this to you, if I thought you would be willing to take it."

Jeff reached out with a shaking hand, fear filling him. What might it say? Would it be an angry letter from David for them getting caught, for him not calling, for their friendship of ten years just ending all of a sudden? Taking the piece of paper in his hand he pulled it to him, clutching it as a drowning man might a piece of driftwood. Then like a bolt of lighting, a thought hit Jeff. "You didn’t read this, did you? Did you?"

"Why would I have? He told me it was private, so I just took it and tucked it away. You know you can trust me, Jeff," Thomas said, giving his brother an angry look of his own. "What, is it a love letter or something?" Snapping his fingers, Thomas smiled, feeling he had finally found the end to the puzzle of the last few weeks. "That's what happened, isn’t it?" he asked.

Jeff's heart stopped beating for just a moment, but to him it felt like an eternity. His breath caught in his chest, and all his mind could do was scream the word RUN! But his body refused to obey that command. The moment passed and he looked at his brother, tears starting to well up in his eyes.

Not really looking at Jeff, Thomas continued without pausing for an answer. "That has to be it: Mom caught you with some girl and she flipped. You got yourself a girlfriend and never told me! You got caught and you’re in trouble, so David is playing messenger between you and…" Jeff's heart started beating again, this time pounding in his ears, drowning out his brother’s words. Relief warred with surprise for control of his brain, the note in his hand all but forgotten.

"…Earth to Jeff – you in there, bro?" Thomas had stood up and was waving a hand in front of Jeff's face. With a start, Jeff slid back in his chair, tipping it over and crashing to the floor. The impact shook Jeff out of his shocked stupor in time to hear his mother charging down the hall and into his room.

"What is going on here? Thomas, what… Jeff, I told you… Thomas, GET OUT! Go over to Mrs. Abiforth's; she needs some help moving a dresser. I told her Jeff would help, but I want you to do it."

Jeff began sitting up, rubbing the back of his head, slipping the piece of paper quickly into a crack in his bed frame, hoping his mother wouldn’t see it.

Thomas stepped over to help Jeff up, but their mother had closed and grabbed Thomas by the arm. "I said go, Thomas, and I mean it."

"But Mom… we were just… why are you…?" Thomas began to protest as he was pushed out into the hall.
"I said go, Thomas. Unless you want to be grounded and not get to play in the championships in two weeks, you will do as I say," growled Linda.

Looking over his shoulder and giving Jeff an 'I’m so sorry' look, Thomas slowly plodded down the hall, grabbing his new rain jacket off the hook next to the door and heading out the door.

Jeff had just stood up and put the chair back next to the desk when his mother stormed back into the room, descending on her son like the storm outside.

"What… whack… did… whack… I tell… whack… you about having your brother in your room?" Jeff's mother ranted at her son, punctuating her words with open-handed slaps across the face, staggering Jeff back a step with each hit till his back pressed against the wall next to his desk.

"I will not… whack… have you violating… WHACK… my son, you hear me? What were you trying to do… how could you try… whack…I thought you understood the rules!" She continued her relentless pummeling of her son. Jeff did nothing more to protect himself than trying to turn his face away from the blows as they landed and cringing away from her. A steady trail of blood was trickling down his chin and onto his sweatshirt from multiple cuts in his lips.

"I… I... didn't do anything… oof… we… ouch… were just talking that’s… ow… all, Mom. Please… please…” Jeff whimpered before the last blow knocked his head back so it struck the bedroom wall, making him dizzy and making his knees nearly buckle under him.

"I know what I saw: you got him onto your bed and then when you tried something, he pushed you away and you fell over your chair. I am going to have to teach you not to ever try something like that again." She began to rain blows down on Jeff with renewed force, hammering him with her fists, driving Jeff to his knees. Jeff hunched his shoulders, drew his head down and put his arms over his head and tried to just weather the beating like he had done in the past. It wasn’t till she started kicking him in the legs and the stomach that he began to lose it. Tears began to flow down his cheeks. This time he was unable to keep from crying out, sobbing in anguish. This only seemed to enrage his mother more, driving her to kick even more brutally. Just as Jeff felt his will begin to break, could feel his hold on himself begin to let go, his eyes landed on the edge of the small piece of paper. He locked his eyes on that little scrap of paper. His mind locked onto the hope that it held something other than anger and hate, that it might truly be a love letter, like his brother thought it to be. Jeff's mind held onto that one glimmer of hope and shut out everything else, ignoring what was being done to his body and day dreaming about what might be, what could have been, what should have been.

Jeff came to wakefulness slowly. His body felt terribly heavy. Sharp pain coursed through his body, followed by a dull throbbing. Even breathing sent waves of pain across his chest, keeping him from taking too deep a breath. Jeff tried to open his eyes and found something cold and wet lying across his eyes. Slowly reaching up with his left hand, Jeff began to remove the damp rag from his eyes. Pain shot through his arm as he moved it, forcing him to gasp in pain. The inrush of air caused even more pain to shoot through his body, making his head swim. Giving into the pain, Jeff let his hand fall back to his side, deciding to let the rag just be where it was.

Jeff felt the side of his bed sink a little as if someone sat down next to him. A hand gently took his and lightly held it, taking care not to cause any further pain. Jeff heard someone whisper to him, but was still in too much pain to comprehend what was said. He squeezed tighter onto the hand holding his and then drifted back to sleep.

Some hours later Jeff woke again. This time the pain had subsided to a bearable constant throb in every joint and muscle in his body. The stabbing pains had gone. The wet rag over his eyes was still there, cooler than he remembered. Someone must have replaced it, he thought to himself. Could Mom have finally come to her senses? Could she have finally seen what she was doing to me and is she trying to make things right again? Jeff forced that hope down, knowing in the back of his mind that it was nothing more than a foolish dream. Jeff lifted his arm. This time he was able to bring it up to his face to pull away the rag. The dim light of his room hurt his eyes, but he saw Thomas sitting on the edge of his bed, nodding off to sleep. He noticed his brother’s hand was still holding his. This shocked him, for he knew had must have slept for some time for the pain to have subsided so much. Did he sit there this whole time? How long has it been?

Foolishly, Jeff tried to sit up, causing a new wave of pain to shoot thought his body, making him gasp loudly and waking his brother.

Thomas looked at Jeff with red puffy eyes, his cheeks streaked with tears. Sniffling, Thomas gave Jeff's hand a light squeeze and tried to force a smile onto his face.

"I was so scared, Jeff… sniff… you wouldn’t move when I found you. You were… sniff… barely breathing… sniff… I didn’t know what to do. I just got you into bed and… all the blood, Jeff – Mom… sniff… Mom did that to you. I have to tell someone. I have to make her stop, Jeff…" Thomas began to stand, but stopped when Jeff gripped his hand tighter.

Jeff slightly shook his head, but even that little movement was enough to make his vision swim and pain to shoot through his head. He tried to speak, but his mouth was so dry all that came out was a barley audible croak.

Thomas sat back down and rested one hand on Jeff's bruised cheek, tears welling back up in his eyes. "She can’t do this, Jeff. No one… sniff… no one should do this. This was the worst I have ever seen it. It’s like…it’s like she really tried to kill you this time."

With effort, Jeff was able to speak, but his voice was an unrecognizable hoarse whisper, "Wh-where is Mom?" he asked.
"Where else: passed out in the living room,” Thomas said, blinking back tears. Jeff closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax. She would be out for the rest of the day or night – whatever it was – and he would have some time to recover.

"Jeff, what happened? Did I do this? Did she do this to you because I broke the rule and was in here?" Thomas asked, fear clearly in his words. "This… this is all my fault, isn’t it?"

Jeff opened his eyes and gave his younger brother the best ‘don’t be an idiot’ look he could at the moment, then whispered, "No, it is not. It's my fault. It’s because of what I did."

"Why, then? What did you do? It can’t be because she caught you with a girl. Not even that could make Mom lose it like this," sobbed Thomas.

Jeff closed his eyes, felt how heavy his body was, felt each and every bruise and scratch and worse his own mother had given him. She was a mother who had sworn to love him always, to protect him always, and now did this. Thomas keeps saying he won’t turn on me, that I can trust him, but Mom said the same thing. If he flips out too, I don’t think I could even defend myself right now. And even if I could I don’t think I would. If I lose him, it’s over.

"Jeff, you have to tell me. If you don’t… if you don’t, I’m going out the door right now and getting Mr. Clark. He will know what to do," Thomas pleaded with his brother.

That pulled Jeff out of his thoughts and back to what his brother had been saying.
"Thomas… please, you can’t tell anyone. If you do, they will take Mom away from you. She’s the only family we have left. I won’t be the reason you get put into foster care," Jeff croaked back.

"But… I can’t let her keep doing this. If you won’t let me stop her, you are going to tell me why, or I go to Mr. Clark right now." Thomas punctuated this by standing and letting go of Jeff's hand.

Tears began forming in Jeff's eyes as he watched his brother stand up and look down on him. His fear of losing his brother and his guilt of what would happen if their mother was taken away warred within him, tearing him apart from the inside out. But he also knew that the time would come when he or his mother would slip up and Thomas would find out anyway. Better my way than at some unknown time.

“In a crack at the foot of…" Jeff was cut off as Thomas pulled a small piece of paper out of his pocket and put it into Jeff's hand. He just looked at his younger brother in surprise, shocked that he would know what he wanted without hearing it and shocked that he knew where to look.

"I still haven’t read it. I should have, if it’s going to give me some idea of what is going on. But you didn’t want me to, and… and I can’t break your trust, Jeff. I love you. You have always been there for me. You have always done what is best for me, even when I didn’t think you were."

Jeff opened up the piece of paper and read the short note in David’s unmistakable handwriting.

I'm sorry Jeff
I miss you Jeff
I love you Jeff

Jeff felt hot tears stream down his cheeks as he read and re-read the three lines over and over and over again, burning them into his mind. His hand shook as he held it. Spasms of pain coursed though his arm but he didn’t care. The eleven little words on the small piece of paper washed away everything: his pain, his fear, his sorrow. It didn’t make it go away forever, or even for very long, but for a brief few moments he was whole again, happy again, loved again.

Thomas watched as his older brother slowly opened the piece of paper he had been guarding ever since he got home. There was no way he would let his mother see it or know about it. Jeff deserved something to go his way. But then the tears started to fall, and Thomas cursed himself for not reading it. He could have spared his brother more pain. If he had just read it, he could have tossed it and then he wouldn’t have delivered something painful to his own brother. But then Thomas noticed that a smile had spread across Jeff's face. His eyes, gone dark from pain and sadness over the last month, had begun to shine once more. It was a weak light and only there for a few moments, but for that one instant Thomas saw the brother he had grown up always wanting to be like.

Jeff let the piece of paper fall from his hand. It landed on the bed next to him face up, the words clearly visible, but Jeff didn’t care. He was lost in his moment of joy. Thomas looked down at the piece of paper and tilted his head to one side so he could read the writing. Furrowing his brow, Thomas read the three lines over and over again.

I know I have seen that handwriting before… whose is it? he thought. Picking up the piece of paper, Thomas turned it around so he could get a good look at it. He sat there just staring at it, reading it over and over again, asking himself where he knew the writing from. Who would want to say they were sorry to Jeff, and who hasn’t he seen in a while, and who…? Thomas' eyes looked up from the paper to Jeff's face, and back to the paper. Then the last thing David said to him before walking away after giving him the paper flew into his mind. “If he won’t read it, just tell him I'm sorry.”

Thomas' eyes finally came to rest on the paper, his mind working frantically to catch up to what he already knew. When the realization hit him, he jerked to his feet, nearly leaping away from the bed and looking at his brother, mouth open in shock, the piece of paper falling unnoticed to the room's floor.

Jeff was rudely awoken from his world of joy by his brother leaping away from him as if bitten by a snake. In that instant Jeff's heart shattered. His world turned from one where he knew he was loved to one where he knew he was alone, a world that he no longer had the will to live in. The next time his mother told him to do or say something, he would simply refuse and let her end it all for him. Jeff then turned his head, unable to look at the horror on his brother’s face, unable to watch as another person who swore to love him forever turned on him. A cry of pure agony and despair tore itself out of his dry throat filling the house with his voice and his pain.

Thomas saw the light go out of his brother’s eyes, saw how Jeff seemed to shrink into himself even more, saw Jeff turn away. Only then did he realize what he had just done and his own heart broke. He had driven that light, so newly minted, out of his brother’s eyes and he with only unthinking action had crushed the last of his brother’s spirit. The sound that Jeff made drove Thomas to his knees, rending his spirit and bringing tears to his eyes.

With a force of will he had not known he possessed, Thomas stood and walked to his brother’s bedside. Sitting down, he reached over and took hold of Jeff's shoulder to roll him back over to look at him.

Jeff felt the bed sink and the strong hands take his shoulder. Through the sobbing, he begged, "Please, Thomas…please do whatever it is you feel you have to. I'm so sorry. I don’t want to be this way. I don’t want Mom and you to hate me. If you’re going to hit me… if you’re… if… just do it now and end it for me. I don’t want to…" The racking sobs carried away the rest of his words as Thomas rolled him over to face him.

Thomas had tears rolling down his face, the pain Jeff felt mirrored in his brother’s eyes. "God, Jeff; I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to jump away – I don’t know why I did. I'm SO SO SO sorry! You have to forgive me. I don’t know why I did it." Thomas leaned in and wrapped his arms around his brother, pulling him tight, trying to make right what he had just done.

"I don’t hate you, bro… I… I can’t hate you. You’re my blood and nothing changes that. God, Jeff, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry."
Jeff wrapped his arms around his younger brother, holding him tight, making him the rock that would keep him from being washed away in the storm of emotions he was being battered by. The two young men simply held each other and cried, not saying a word but expressing a lifetime’s worth of feelings. The tears they shared would forever strengthen the bond of blood that held them together.