The morning sky was empty over the scrubland on the town's outskirts.
A ten-year-old boy, Julian, lay on the dirt. He was injured but alive, staring without blinking at the sky, at the sun. His face was pale beneath a shock of black hair. Small but noticeable wounds covered his left arm and right knee, leaking blood onto the dusty ground. The sun beat down, hot and indifferent, but Julian barely felt its warmth. All he could feel was the sharp, throbbing sting from his arm and the raw scrape on his knee. The pain was total, a bright, blinding thing that eclipsed the sky he was staring at.
A figure appeared, stepping into his vision and blocking the sun. Damon, sixteen years old, stood over him, his own face a dark silhouette against the light.
"You are a pussy," Damon said.
Julian blinked, caught off guard by the voice.
"A weak, pathetic pussy."
Beside Julian, a bicycle lay on its side, its front wheel slowly ceasing to spin.
Damon chuckled. "Can't even ride a bicycle?" He offered a hand down.
Julian stared at the outstretched hand. It wasn't a rescue; it was a test. He knew, with a cold certainty, that it was a trap. But not taking it would be worse. He took it, trying to pull himself up.
Damon stopped pulling midway. His grip tightened, and then he yanked, throwing Julian back down onto the dirt.
Julian grunted at the impact.
Damon slowly knelt, bringing their faces near. He looked just like Julian, only older, and somehow much brighter, more alive.
"Look at you," Damon said, his voice quiet. "Crying over a little scratch. You're like that finch we found last spring, weren't you? Pathetic."
Julian opened his mouth, trying to respond, but before he could speak, Damon slapped him. Hard.
Julian's face reeled sideways from the force. He brought a hand up to cover his stinging cheek. Damon grabbed a fistful of Julian's hair and pulled his head back, forcing him to look up again.
"Ahh," Julian cried out, a sharp gasp of pain.
Damon slapped him again. Harder. This time, Julian tensed, absorbing the blow, but didn't reel back.
"Do you feel it?" Damon asked.
Julian didn't answer.
Damon hit him a third time, a sharp, punishing blow that snapped his head back.
"Answer me!" Damon's voice rose, cracking with command.
Tears welled in Julian's eyes, hot and immediate. He nodded hurriedly, the movement jerky and fearful. "Yes," he cried.
Damon smiled. "Can you ever imagine me falling from a bicycle like you did?"
"No."
"Why?"
Julian thought only for a second, tears tracking through the dust on his cheeks. "Because you are strong."
Damon's smile widened. He chuckled, a soft, chilling sound, and leaned in to press a kiss to Julian's forehead. "I love you, little brother."
Julian just nodded, fresh tears spilling.
Damon's chuckle slowly died. His face became neutral, his expression unreadable. He stared at Julian, holding the gaze for a bit too long. Julian held it, his fear a tangible thing in his chest, a cold knot tightening in his stomach.
"Say it," Damon commanded.
Julian looked down at the dirt. He waited, his small body trembling.
"I love you too," Julian whispered, the words barely audible.
Hearing that, Damon grinned. "Good boy."
He stood up and offered Julian his hand again. Julian hesitated, his eyes flickering from the hand to his brother's face, but he grabbed it. This time, Damon pulled him all the way up. Once Julian was standing, Damon used his hands to wipe the dust from his shirt, a gesture that was almost gentle.
"Let's go home, little brother."
They arrived home. The house was modest, small and slick, a relic of an old architecture. Its cement walls looked as if they could crumble at any time.
On the steps sat a beautiful woman, her hair long enough to reach her hips. She was trimming her nails, her hands slick and her gaze focused. She saw two kids and a bicycle approaching. Damon and Julian. She didn't pay much attention.
The kids arrived at the home. Her gaze fell on Julian's knees. A flicker of something passed through her eyes—a familiar flash of annoyance, a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. _Not again._ It was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a softer expression she willed into place. She slowly looked up at him.
Her voice was tight. "What happened to your knee, Julian?"
Julian and Damon exchanged a look.
"I fell off the bicycle, mother," Julian said.
The woman's expression softened, seizing on the simple explanation. It was the easier one to believe. "Did you injure yourself anywhere else?"
Before Julian could respond, Damon interrupted. "His arms and elbow as well, mother."
She turned to Damon, then back to Julian's hands. She slowly pulled Julian closer to her, grabbing his arm to examine the injuries.
"It could've been way worse if I hadn't saved him, mother," Damon said. "Am I right, Julian?"
The mother looked at Julian as he nodded. "Yes mother. Damon saved me." His expression seemed more devoted than honest.
The mother chose not to see the dishonesty. She smiled, accepting the story she needed. "Come here, Damon."
She pulled both Damon and Julian into a hug and pressed a kiss to Damon's forehead. She looked at Damon.
"Aren't you such a responsible brother?"
Damon looked back, his eyes full of utter devotion. "Yes, mother, I am."
The mother seemed content. "If anything happened to me, I would count on you to take care of Julian."
Damon's response was immediate. "I wouldn't let anything happen to you, mother."
The woman was surprised, almost as if she hadn't been expecting this answer. She pressed another kiss to his cheek. "I love you so much."
"I love you more, mother," Damon answered instantaneously.
She smiled.
She looked back at Julian and pressed a kiss on his cheek. "I love you too, Julian."
Julian hugged her harder, burying his face in her side. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to soak in the genuine warmth from his mother, a small, safe comfort. But the hug wasn't whole. On his other side, Damon's arm was a cold, heavy weight across his back, a chill that seeped through his shirt and poisoned the embrace. All three of them held the pose, a broken family portrait of a warm hug.