“No Nick, I’m serious. I think there is someone following me.”

***

My brother and I never really got along, he always ignored me as a kid, so naturally I did the same. That followed us into our adult years as well, but with less spite.

So when I got a call from my step-father, asking me if I had heard from Night, I knew something was off.

Night was always a momma’s boy, but he kept in touch with his father closely. So if Brandon hadn’t talked to him, chances are no-one had.

I gave my older brother a call, for the first time in two months, maybe? And as expected, he didn’t pick up. Never bothered to with me.

“Fine, i’ll go to you then.” I mumbled to my phone as I plucked my keys from the table.

When I arrived at his apartment, I knew something was wrong. I mean, yeah, it’s a shitty place to live, but…the way that this door is scuffed?

I knocked on his door, yelling through it: “Yo, it’s Onyx. Are you okay, dude? No-ones talked to you in a while…”

“…”

“Night?” I decided to be an annoying shit and pound on the door. That should’ve pulled him from any kind of den he had.

Still silence, say from his cat meowing from inside.

“Alright, I’m coming in.” On normal terms, I would have just left, or called him again. But I was started to get worried.

I used a spare key of his to unlock his door, but it was already unlocked. The door was just shut.

Now, my brothers a thick-skulled individual, but he’s not stupid. So I opened my phone and got ready to call 911.

“I swear to god. If I see your dead body…” the thought made my throat seize.

I cautiously pushed open the scraped door, a over-turned interior greeted me. The table pushed closer to the wall, most of the chairs on their backs, some shattered glass on the floor.

No blood…no smell of death or decay. So that’s good, maybe he just had a party? Now I’m grasping at straws.

I stepped around his furniture and came to a halt in his small bedroom.

The bed was messed up, but not like Night was attacked in it, there was no blood. It looked like he was pulling the sheets out of his broken window.

It had clicked before, but now the emotions hit me like a bullet. My brother was kidnapped, he was taken from his home and dragged somewhere.

Anger, soul-crushing pain and fear boiled up from to the surface as I pressed call on the police.

I had to put in a lot of fucking effort not to hyperventilate on call and explain where I was and what happened.

I should have listened. I should have taken him seriously for once in my fucking life. He came to me about this, he told me he was worried and I brushed him off.

Is this my fault?

If I would have listened to him and let him crash at my place, would he be okay? Safe? Would we have both been taken? If I was with him I could have protected him.

Now what’s happening to him?! He can’t handle much, he’s not very strong. Is he okay? Of course he’s not o-fucking-kay, he’s gone, kidnapped. All because I was being a dick.

This is my fault.

…

A strong sense of determination solidified in my chest, like stone, a heavy weight for justice.

I will get him back, I will pull him from the pits of hell if I have to. I am not letting him go like this, not Night, not my son-of-a-bitch brother.

I will find him and I will drag his ass back home and out of the hands of some fucking monster.

Even if it takes my last, spiteful breath, I’ll do it!