Celo

Chapter 9

Kyle was kneeling on the floor holding his shoulder. There was blood on his hand and I could see panic on his face. I felt a twang of pain in my gut, he was my little brother, it always felt awful to see him hurting, and especially to know that it was all my fault.

"Hey there, you're gonna be okay," All I could think was what would Casey do, "What happened?'

"Dad and I were going to Mike's but he drove behind the building instead. He told me to get out of the car so I did and then he pulled out a gun. He was handing it to me, he said we were going to rob the place. When I said no, he shot me."

"Where is he?"

"I shot him in the leg and drove away. My guess, he's still back there."

"Come on." I said and helped him to my bed. I grabbed some gauze pads and bandages from one of my three drawers I used for medical supplies. I went over to Kyle and, pressing a gauze pad hard against his shoulder, said, "Move your hand."

"Wait!"

"Ya?"

"Why do you have all that stuff?"

" 'Cause if I didn't I would've bled to death ten times over by now, no thanks to you, you little--" I stopped myself, he probably didn't remember half the things he did.

"What I do... Quinn, is it that bad?"

I grimaced, he had no idea, I couldn't be mad at him. The only person to blame was myself, and dad, but it's hard to blame a man shot down and abandonned in an alley way.

"Don't worry about it now. Move your hand." He did and I pressed the gauze pad hard into his shoulder. He flinched. "You okay?"

"Fine." He said through gritted teeth. Blood was already starting to soak through the gauze pad. He'd probably lost alot already. I grabbed another pad. Then I noticed the blood pooling on my bed under him. I rolled him on his side. It was through and through but just a flesh wound. I grabbed and other two gauze pads with my free hand. Kyle held the front while I held the back and bandaged his shoulder tightly. Kyle was a healthy guy besides the drinking he wasn't fat and had his fair share of muscle. I kept trying to convince myself he'd be okay. He slowly moved his injured arm so it was lying across his abdomen. 

I tried to remember the last time I'd seen my brother sober. It had to have been before school started.

I ran my hands through my hair pressing hard against my head.
"Hey, you okay man?" he asked.

"Huh? Oh, ya I'm fine."

"Oh God did I do that?" he asked indicating the cut. I touched it, it stung, and I winced. 

"Don't worry about it."

"No I'm sitting here feeling sorry for myself when I put you through hell like this and worse every night. You have all sorts of injuries you're hiding under that sweatshirt don't you?"

"It's my fault, I got you into drinking, don't blame yourself." I hated myself. I was such a screw up I brought this on myself and then wasn't even strong enough to prevent the monsters I created from beating me to death. I looked up at Kyle with tears starting down his face and blood all over. I thought back to last year at school. I was a sophomore, Kyle was a freshman. I was playing varsity football, he was playing varsity water polo, we got great grades we both had great friend circles. Teachers loved us because they loved our parents. Especially Mom who was the most amazing person anyone could meet. Dad had coached the Basketball team to championships for six years and was about to do it again. Everything changed once Mom was gone. People tried to reach out but we pushed them away on account of our daily hangovers mixed with grief. We faded into the background I guess, with  no one. Six months later one third of our happy family is dying behind a bar, My bed is covered in bloodstains, mine and now my brothers as well, and he's lying on my bed shot and crying, while I'm covered in cuts and bruises that I cover with a sweatshirt. But it doesn't really matter does it? Because no one notices anyways.