【𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 • 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐊𝐔 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑】

8| Sleep like the Dead

[warning: chapter contains descriptions that some may find disturbing.]

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You cover your ears when you hear the screams. You know it's a Hyped kid, judging by the cheers as people watch the fight unfold. You limp along the street, going as fast as you can to escape the blood-curling cries of a child that knows they're going to die.

Finally, you reach your apartment complex, and hobble up the stairs. You try to be as quiet as you can, hoping not to wake anyone. 

When you open the door to your apartment, you leave the lights off, not wanting to wake Hiroto. You can see the outline of his body on the couch, curled up in a blanket, still and quiet. He's always been a heavy sleeper; Mom used to say he "slept like the dead".

You consider waking him up and getting him to look at your ankle, but then you decide against it. Honestly, you're too tired, and Hiroto probably wouldn't be too happy if he was shaken awake at midnight. Sure, he would help you, but he'd be very pouty about it.

He's been very experienced with injuries in the past, which is why you always go to him instead of a hospital or such. He always knows what to do.

And so, you sneak past your corpse-like brother, and head to your room. You lay down, your bed creaking and complaining, but for once you don't mind. You're just happy to be home.

You fumble in your pocket for you phone, your search fruitless. 

I must've dropped it during the fall and left it in that alley, you think.

You groan, turning on your side. Your phone. The pictures. 

The pictures!

"Shit!" 

The only thing you wanted. Your proof. Now you have nothing but a hurt ankle and scars. Should you go back and look for it? 

At first you consider going back to the alley, but then you remember the screams. The fights. It's too dangerous; plus, your ankle is crying out for help.

You curl up in your bed, determined to get at least a little sleep tonight. In the morning, you'll go looking. In the morning, you'll get Hiroto to help with your ankle.

In the morning. 

For now, it's time to sleep. Your body doesn't disagree.

❧

You don't dream that night, thankfully. But when you wake up, the first thing that hits you is the smell. 

What the hell?

It's like rotten fish, but it also reminds you of burning rubber. You get up, holding your nose, and take a quick look at your ankle.

It's still throbbing, but not as bad as the night before. It's a little red and swollen, but otherwise it looks okay. 

You change clothes, still in the ones from the night before, and put on some cleaner ones. A simple hoodie will do. You head to the living room where Hiroto should be.

He's not awake yet, which is weird. He's usually an early bird. 

Before you wake him, though, you plan on figuring out where that smell is coming from. You open the fridge, taking a whiff of the contents inside. Nothing unusual. And as you walk around the kitchen more, it smells normal. You give up and sigh.

You then head over to wake your unmoving brother. As you get closer, though, it seems like the smell is coming from him.

"Ugh," you say, holding your nose, "when was the last time you showered?"

He's sleeping with his face towards the back of the couch, and when you shake his shoulder, he doesn't move. Despite being curled up in a blanket, his skin is cold. Does he have a fever?

"Hiroto," you tease, "I know how much you hate sleeping in, you weirdo, so wake up. It's already 9 a.m."

He doesn't stir, and that's when you begin to worry. Your heart pounds, and you turn your brother over, pulling his blanket off of him and taking his hand.

His skin is pale and his eyes are wide open, empty despite the emotion held in his expression. His hand is all blood and gore, and you realize there's a hole in the middle of his palm, bigger than a quarter. It goes completely through his hand, as if someone carved out a circle of your brother.

You scream, falling backwards into your coffee table and shattering the vase on it. Tears flow from your eyes, and another scream wells up in your throat. Glass embeds in your palms, and your ankle is screaming, but you can't bring your eyes away from your brother.

Hiroto just stares at the ceiling, his body cold and lifeless.

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