My brother had always been different. Not special education different, he just looked different. For starters, he wore skinny jeans and hoodies all the time, and I can’t possibly forget his black hair. He also had spider bites.

 My brother also listened to “emo kid” music. He always told me it was called hardcore, and he told everyone else that too.

 He also didn’t have many friends, though I knew many girls who had a crush on him. At school, I was always asked if I could hook him up with some stranger. I would always say no. I was fiercely loyal to my brother, so i never told anyone, even my parents, he was a closet gay.

 I didn’t know it at the time, but my brother had been hurting himself. I should have guessed something was wrong when he winced as I hugged him. I wish I had said something. Then maybe he wouldn’t be dead.

 I should have noticed the music too.Before he died, he listened to a lot of songs about suicide. I guess they were telling him different ways to kill himself. It was sad.

 I didn’t think it was fair. My brother was one of the coolest guys I knew. He never hurt anyone, no matter how much they hurt him. He used to come home with blood on his shirt and black eyes, but he would never tell me who had done it.

 “I can’t tell you,” he’d say whenever I asked who had hurt him. “It would hurt them.”

 “How? They beat you up every day,” I’d yell. “How could it possibly hurt them?”

 “They’d be suspended and miss school,” he’d answer calmly. “It would hurt their education and their future.”

I learned a valuable lesson from my brother that day; one I would never forget.

 I didn’t want to leave my brother, so I used my cell phone to call my mom.
 “This better be an emergency,” she hissed. “I’m in the middle of a meeting.”
 “Jason’s dead.”
 She didn’t say anything for a minute.
 “I’m in a meeting,” she snapped. “I’ll see you in three hours.”
 She hung up before I could say anything else.
 “He’s your son,” I screamed at no one. “You should be here helping me. I don’t know who to call,” I sobbed.
 Mom never really liked my brother, especially after he dyed his hair black. She babied me a lot, and was always trying to tell him to grow up.
 If Dad had been alive when he started dyeing his hair it would have been fine. Dad would have defended my brother and Mom wouldn’t have been able to do anything but wait.
 But Dad had been gone over a year at that point, and I was powerless against my mother.
 But none of that matters seeing as my brother’s dead now.

 I grabbed a rag from under the sink and started to mop up all the blood. There was so much, and I’m pretty sure it was still flowing from his flowing from his veins, even though he’d been dead for a while.
 As I cleaned, I thought back to the time I got angry at my dad and punched a window. Mom had refused to take my to the hospital, and Dad had gone off somewhere.
 My brother had been the one to take me to urgent care. He sat with me for two hours as I bled through who-knows-how-many towels.
 When we were finally called back to see a doctor, he held my hand. I panicked when the doctor told me I would need stitches, but he was totally calm. He held my hand and covered my eyes so I wouldn’t be traumatized. I had to have broken something in his hand while they were stitching me up, but he said he was OK.
 He was also  the one who took me back about a month later to get the stitches removed.

 There was so much blood in the bathroom. I reached over my brother to turn on the faucet in the bathtub, and I noticed the water inside was red. There must be no blood left in his body.

 While I waited for the water to drain from the tub, I thought back to the time he dressed as a vampire for Halloween.
 “I vant to suck your blood,” he said with an evil laugh.
 I was only eight at the time, and ran around screaming with joy. He chased me around the whole house shouting in his fake vampire accent the entire time.
 Those days were okay. Dad was alive, and Mom wasn’t a total b**** to my brother. I missed those days.
 Everyone was so innocent before middle school. In middle school, everyone struggled to fit in and the eighth graders bullied the younger kids ‘cause that’s what happened to them.
 No one ever picked on me. My brother made sure of that.

 The bathtub was finally empty of the creepy red water. I turned on the faucet and began scrubbing the tub to get rid of the red stain the water left behind.
 I thought back to the time my brother split his chin in middle school. He had told Mom and Dad it happened while he was skateboarding, and they bought the lie without a question.
 I was the only one who knew something was up, and I asked him as soon as he was alone.
 “I can’t tell you,” he’d mumbled.
 “Why? I’m sick of you doing this,” I had exploded. “You always try and protect others. Let me protect you! Let me help!”
 “No one can help me,” he’d screamed.  “Not you, not Mom or Dad, not anyone!”  He ripped his shirt off and attempted to clean up the blood.
 I gasped as I saw the ugly black and yellow-green bruises covering his torso.  “What happened?”
 “Nothing,” he said a little too quickly.
 “Was it those kids at school?”
 “No,” he said turning back to me, fear in his eyes.
 “I’ll kill them. I’ll beat them up worse than they beat up you.”
 “No! It wasn’t them! I swear!”
 “Then who?”
 “I can’t tell you,” he said sadly. After a heartbeat, he put his head in his hands and started sobbing.
 I crossed the bathroom and hugged him.
 “It’s okay,” I whispered. “You’ll be okay.”
 He fell to the floor, dragging me down with him.
 “Let’s get you cleaned up,” I said after a while.
 “Okay,” he sniffed.
 He got up and sat in the tub.
 “Why in the tub?” I laughed.
 “Just in case you spill something,” he said with a small smile.
 I rolled my eyes and dumped some peroxide onto a cotton ball.
 “This is gonna hurt,” I warned.
 He started humming a song.
 I dabbed at the wound and he hissed.
 “I told you it would hurt,” I smiled.

 The tub was finally clean, and I wasn’t sure what to do next. My brother was still laying on the floor, shirtless. From my angle, it almost looked like he was sleeping. I wish he was.
 I remembered the time a couple of eighth grade girls ganged up on me and beat me up. My brother found out who they were and told them to leave me alone. He didn’t even go to my school and he was still looking out for me.
 I’m fairly certain those girls didn’t mess with me again because they thought my brother was cute. He was about two years older than me- a freshman in high school.
 Silly eighth graders. They had no idea what they were getting into.
 No one ever seriously questioned my brother’s sexuality. They all assumed he was just waiting for the right girl.
 I had found out when Mom left us home alone yet again for a meeting on the other side of the country.
 My brother was in the kitchen, lacking a shirt as usual, making some sandwiches when I got home.
 “Hi,” I said.
 “Jesus,” he yelled as he dropped the knife in his hand.
 “No, but I can see how you’re mistaken,” I laughed.
 “Jason? Is everything okay?” A strange voice shouted.
 “Yeah,” he yelled, “I’m fine.”
 “Who was that?” I asked.
 “A friend,” he stammered, slowly turning bright red.
 “Okay,” I said. “Don’t get too crazy.”
 “We won’t. Don’t worry.” He went back to making sandwiches and his face turned even more red.
 Suddenly, it clicked. “Oh my god. This is amazing,” I said, my face lighting up like a Christmas tree. “You have a boyfriend!”
 “So you’re not freaked out?”
 “No! I think it’s awesome! Can I meet him?”
 “Sure,” he smiled. “Want a sandwich?”
 “Sounds yummy,” I smiled back.
 My brother left the kitchen and came back with another guy, also lacking a shirt. What was it with guys not wearing shirts?
 “This is my kid sister, Emma.”
 “Nice to meet you,” the other boy said. “I’m Erik with a K.”
 “Hi Erik-with-a-K,” I smiled.
 We all laughed.
 “You’re a funny one,” Erik said.
 “How was school?” my brother asked, going back to making the sandwiches.
 “It was good. I don’t have a lot of homework for once.”
 “Nice. Practice was okay?”
 “Yep.”
 “That’s good. Here’s your sandwich,” my brother said as he handed me a plate.
 “Thanks. I’ll be in my room,” I said.
 “Okay.”

 I cleaned up most of the blood in the bathroom. There was still a lot of blood on my brother, so I grabbed  a new rag and started gently wiping the blood off him. There was so much blood. His jeans were ruined and it was in his hair. The last time I’d seen this much blood was Dad’s car crash.
 Dad had been taking Jason and I to school. It was snowing and the road was icy. If only we had left five minutes later. Maybe Dad would still be alive.
 The semi-truck didn’t have enough room to stop, and clipped the back of our car. We spun out of control and hit a light pole. Dad was killed on impact.
 I sat in the backseat, screaming my head off, unharmed aside from some cuts and bruises.
 Jason, thankfully, sat in the backseat next to me, behind Dad. He had a minor concussion and needed some stitches, but was otherwise okay.
 The airbag deflated, and Dad slumped forward. In that instant, I knew he was dead.
 I was eleven. Jason was thirteen.

 I tried not to cry, I really did, but seeing the cuts on my brother’s arms made me so sad.
 Most were straight lines, but some read ‘Hold on pain ends,’ ‘faggot,’ and ‘Where do I belong.’
 Why hadn’t I said something? I wanted to cry and scream and throw a tantrum like a spoiled little girl.
 Mom had spoiled me since birth. I always got what I wanted, until Dad’s death. Mom was so upset she threw herself into work and got a big promotion. I hardly ever saw her anymore. She’d either be working late or was away at another meeting.
 Maybe if I hadn’t been spoiled my brother would be alive. Maybe if Mom was home more he’d be alive. Maybe if Dad hadn’t died my brother would be alive. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
If only I’d gone to the principal behind his back. I had so many regrets. If only I’d done something! If only someone had noticed! If only, if only, if only!
 But there was nothing I could do now. My brother is dead.

 I had to get out of the bathroom. I found my brother’s phone in his room and did the only thing I could think of: call Erik.
 My brother and Erik had been dating for over two years, and I was the only person that knew.
 Whenever Mom was gone for more than five days, which was quite often, Erik would spend the night. They didn’t want to get caught because Erik was in the closet too.
 Erik was tan and muscular from playing water polo. I found him slightly  attractive, but I always pushed aside my feelings. He loved my brother, and that made me happy.
 I mentally prepared myself and dialed Erik’s number.
 “Jason? Are you okay? I was so worried about you,” he said.
 I remained silent. How could I tell him?
 “Jason?”
 “I’m sorry,” I managed to say.
 “Emma? What’s wrong? Why are you using Jason’s cell phone? Is he okay?”
I took a deep breath and called upon all my strength. Nothing could prepare me to say the two dreaded words.
 “He’s dead,” I finally said.
 “He’s… he’s… What? I don’t understand.”
 “I had practice today, so I didn’t get home till about thirty minutes ago, and he was laying on the bathroom floor in a puddle of his own blood.”
 Silence.
 “Is there any way of saving him?”
 “He… he wasn’t breathing when I found him. I’m so sorry Erik. If only I’d done something. Maybe he’d be alive,” I started to cry.
 “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he said quietly. “Some things are beyond our control, and this is one of them. He would want us to remember the happier times.”
 “You’re right,” I said, wiping away my tears.
 “Does anyone else know?” He asked.
 “I called my mom,” I told him, “but she said she’d be home in a few days, after her meeting.”
 “How dare she,” he exclaimed. “What kind of parent stays at work when their child died? I’m sorry, but that’s not what you do. Any sane parent would drop everything and rush home. Do you want me to come over?”
 “It’s up to you. I could use the company, but it’s still pretty bad.”
 “I’ll be there in ten.”

 I got a towel from under the sink and gently laid it over my brother’s chest and arms. I’d move it if Erik really wanted to see.
 The doorbell rang and I reluctantly got up to answer the door.
 It was Erik. He held a pizza in one hand and a six pack of soda in the other.
 “Junk food is the best comfort food,” he said as he walked inside and set the food in the kitchen. I followed, feeling numb.
 He turned to say something and I burst into tears.
 “Shh. It’s okay,” he said. “We’ll get through this. We’re tough people. We can get through this.” He pulled me into a hug and stroked my hair as I sobbed into his shoulder.
 “I… I wish… I wish I had done something, anything to stop this-.”
 “Shh. It’s okay,” he said, cutting me off.
 We stood like that for a while- him hugging me as I cried. Eventually, I dried my eyes, took a deep, shaky breath, and looked at Erik.
 “We’ll be okay,” he said, trying to smile through his tears. “We’ll get through this.”
 “We’ll make him proud,” I said quietly.
Erik could only nod.
 “Can… can I see him?” He eventually asked.
 “Are you sure?”
 He nodded, a glint of determination in his bright green eyes.
 “Okay.”
 I led him to the bathroom.

 Everything was clean, except for the rags in the sink and my brother. I just couldn’t bring myself to wash the blood out of his hair and jeans.
 Erik reached down to move the towel.
 “I wouldn’t do that,” I said quietly.
 He just looked at me.
 “It’s bad.”
 “I’ll take my chances,” he said, his voice cracking a little.
 He moved the towel and I saw a single tear roll down his face. He slowly put the towel back and gently stroked my brother’s face, not saying a word.
 He turned back toward me and I pulled him into a hug.
 “You did a good job, kid,” he said in a hoarse whisper. He rested his head on my shoulder and I felt my t-shirt dampen as he finally cried.
 “He always loved you,” I whispered. “He always said so. Whenever we were alone, he’d start talking about you and how nice you were to everyone. He never said a mean thing about you.”
 “He admired your bravery,” Erik sobbed. “He said he always loved how protective of him you were, even though you were younger. You made him feel like a little kid again. He loved that about you.”
 We both started crying as we hugged next to my brother’s cold corpse.
 After a while, Erik pulled away.
 “I guess there’s only one thing to do,” he said sadly.
 “What’s that?”
 Erik pulled out his cell phone and dialed a short number.
 “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
 “My boyfriend is dead,” Erik said.

 The paramedics showed up fifteen minutes later, complimented me on cleaning up all the blood, then loaded my brother into the ambulance. They were kind enough to wait as I locked up the house and told the neighbors what had happened. Then, Erik and I climbed into the ambulance with my brother’s body.
 At the hospital, they took my brother into a room Erik and I weren’t allowed to go in.
 The police showed up and asked a lot of questions. Most of them were directed at me since I found him. They asked a lot of questions about my brother’s behavior before his suicide and left.
 I called some of Dad’s family and Mom’s sister. Dad’s family promised to fly out for the funeral, and Mom’s sister apologized for Mom’s behavior.
 “She just doesn’t want to lose the promotion she worked so hard for,” she said. “You know?”
 I didn’t know, so I stayed silent.
 Erik was by my side the entire time, leaving only to call his parents and tell them what was going on, and to get some coffee from the hospital’s cafeteria.
 “The coffee tastes like sludge,” he said when he came back.
 “Thanks,” I said quietly.
 I called Mom to tell her what was going on, but she didn’t answer.
 My brother’s body was moved to the morgue, and Erik and I hitched a ride home with a nurse who knew my Mom.
 “Thank you so much,” I said fro the third time as she stopped in front of my house.
 “It’s no problem,” she said. “You just tell Alyssa I said hi.”
 “I sure will,” I said as I climbed out of her car. I shut the door and walked up to the front door. Erik followed behind me.
 We had come back to my house because the morgue needed some clothes to put my brother in for his funeral.
 Erik followed me to my brother's room, and his breath hitched as he walked through the door.
 “You okay?” I asked.
 “Yeah,” he answered. “Do you mind if I just lay on his bed?”
 “Go ahead,” I said. Poor Erik. I had no idea how hard this was for him.
 He laid down on the bed while i searched my brother’s closet for his least favorite band shirt.
 My brother once told me, as a joke I think, that he wanted to buried in his least favorite band shirt so I could have all the rest.
 Next I grabbed a pair of skinny jeans and his nearly-brand-new pair of converse sneakers.
 I put the clothes in a pile by the front door. The morgue was closed until eight o’clock tomorrow morning.
 I went back into my brother’s room to check on Erik, and he was fast asleep. I pulled the blanket over him and went to my own room.
 I hardly slept that night, and when I did, my dreams were haunted by dead eyes and blood. We never ate the pizza.

 My brother’s funeral was a small and private affair. Erik was the only person there outside of family, as per my request.
 We held a memorial for my brother last night. Most of the people that showed up were girls that had crushes on my brother. Erik stood by my side through most of it, and I could hear girls asking one another if Erik was my boyfriend.
 “They think you’re my boyfriend,” I whispered.
 His face fell. “I’m telling them the truth,” he said.
 “Jason would want you to,” I said as I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
 “Attention, attention everyone,” he yelled. “I have an announcement.” He waited for the room to quiet.
 “I believe most of you are wondering if I’m Emma’s boyfriend,” he said- and a lot of girls blushed. “She’s not,” he continued. “I just wanted to say the love of my life is in that coffin. I’ve been dating Jason for over two years, up until the day of his suicide. He was gay and so am I.”
 Everyone was eerily silent, hanging on to Erik’s every word.
 “And I just wanted to add that-,” his voice cracked and he took a shaky breath, “that I loved him. Thank you.”
Erik returned to my side and began crying silently. I put my arm around his shoulder.
 “That was very brave of you,” I said.  “I’m sure Jason’s smiling down on us right now.”
 The rest of the memorial went without an incident, and some people told Erik he was very brave as they passed.
 My brother was so lucky to have him. I wondered why he would give up Erik.

 Mom didn’t show up for my brother’s funeral. I was the only person, besides her sister, to expect this.
 With his permission, I introduced Erik to the rest of my family as my brother’s boyfriend.
 More than half of everyone there said “I had a feeling you were,” even though none of them had been at last night’s memorial. Sometimes families know more than they let on.
 When it came to say our final farewells, I shocked everyone.
 “After hours of searching,” I said, “I’ve found Jason’s suicide note. Sorry if I miss a few words; it was in the pocket of his ruined jeans.” I cleared my throat and began to read.
 “Dear Mom,” I read. “I’m sorry I’m not good enough. I don’t think you ever loved me.
 “Dear Emma, None of this is your fault. I’m sorry I can’t protect you anymore.
 “Dear Dad, Thank you for always having my back. I’ll see you soon.
 I took a shaky breath before continuing.
 “Dear Erik, thank you for being my one and only love. There are no words that describe my feelings for you. Love will have to do. Take care of Emma for me.
 “Dear bullies, thanks for showing me how to protect my sister from assholes like you.
 “And finally, dear Earth, thanks for hosting me for eighteen years- that’s not even a blink of an eye for you.
 “Signed, with sadness, Jason.”
 There wasn’t a single dry eye in the place, not even my own.

 There was a reception at my house after the funeral. People brought lots of flowers and tons of food. I had no idea how I was going to eat it all.
 Erik’s family came to the reception, and they were totally cool with him being gay. They were terribly upset about not getting to meet Jason or me before now.
 “You would have loved him,” I said.
 “We know,” Erik’s mom replied with a sad smile. “You are always welcome at our home, Emma. No matter what.”
 “Thank you,” I said.
 I chatted with a few more people before slipping away to Jason’s room.
 Erik was already there.
 “If it’s okay with you, I want his bed sheets and some of his cologne,” he said somberly.
 “No,” I said, shocking him. “you have to take some of these posters. I could never fit them all in my room.”
 He smiled.

 Mom never came back from her meeting. Apparently she’d been embezzling from the company for years, long enough to literally disappear off the face of the earth. No one knows where she is, but I don’t care as long as she continues to pay the bills.
 Erik turns eighteen in a few days, and I’m planning a big surprise party. He wants to move in with me so I’m not alone anymore and his parents are okay with it.
 Erik and I have gotten closer since my brother’s suicide. I’ve come to think of him as the brother Jason would have been.
 Speaking of Jason, I see him once a week. We don’t do much. Usually I put some flowers on his grave and Talk to him for a while. My therapist approves.
I leave flowers on Dad’s grave too. He’s buried not too far from Jason.  Sometimes I talk to Dad, but I usually just sit there for a while.
 I’m almost seventeen. Om my eighteenth birthday, Erik and I are going to get matching tattoos- a small heart with Jason’s name written inside. Erik’s getting his above his heart. I’m getting mine behind my ear.
 Life isn’t the same without my brother, but so far, it’s going okay.