She replaced the phone on its hook carefully. Realizing the consequences of what she had just done and the danger she had put herself in, her feet wavered under her for an instant. But then she was steady again. She had gone beyond the point of caring only about herself. A deep satisfaction filled her heart and she prayed that she had not been too late. Just hearing Frank's voice on the phone was enough to let her know that it was all worth it. Frank, I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me someday, she thought sadly as she turned and walked off into the night, smiling as she heard the wailing siren from afar.

 

The cabin was secluded from all other cabins but they found it right away. Lake Gambon was deserted at this time of the year and the overall darkness; also the moonlight glinting on the dark, deep waters gave the surrounding an eerie, almost haunted ambiance. The tiny cabin was engulfed in complete darkness and there was no sign of anyone.

Cautiously, Detective Gore approached the cabin. Pushing slightly at the door revealed that it was not even closed. Frank followed, his ears listening intently for any kind of sound. He groped around the wall and found what he was looking for. In an instant the whole house was bathed in light, displaying the overturned table and the broken chairs, pieces of glass scattered everywhere on the floor. A puddle of beer spilt from a nearly empty bottle was drying at a spot near the fireplace.

"Someone was here earlier," Gore said, carefully stepping over a deadly piece of glass. "Be careful."

"There's a room over here," another cop said, pointing toward the door at the other end of the living room. His weapon out and ready, he inched closer to the room, and kicked open the door. "Freeze!!"

"Uh, Detective!" he called and rushed in, holstering his gun as he kneeled next to the prone body lying on the floor. Frank gasped, horrified at the sight awaiting him in the room. Joe!!!! Both overjoyed and alarmed, he ran over to his brother. Hastily Frank took off his jacket and covered his brother's exposed body. Oh Joe, what did he do to you? Frank ran his hands over Joe's body, trying to assess the seriousness of Joe's condition, blinking back tears as he touched the side of Joe's face gently. Joe's face was badly swollen, and there were bruises everywhere, on his temple, on his forehead, on his cheek and blood was flowing steadily in rivulets down his face from a deep cut near his hairline. Frank wanted so badly to gather his brother in his arms and hugged him, but he reluctantly stepped back to let the paramedics work on Joe. Joe, please, please, please be alright...he prayed and prayed but he couldn't shake the bad feeling in his gut that this was going to be worse than the night when Joe had been poisoned.

A paramedic gently pried Frank's jacket off Joe's body, revealing a badly bruised torso. Frank wanted to scream, to tell them to stop, but he knew he had to be strong. He had to be strong and face this, for Joe if not for himself. Frank watched with a quaking heart and a dry mouth as they took Joe's vitals, probing all over Joe's body looking for other injuries. When they reached the lower part of Joe's belly, Frank didn't miss the knowing glances exchanged between them.

"What? What's the matter?" Frank asked, agitated. He wanted them to pack up and take Joe to the hospital right away. He hated seeing his brother, who was already in such a vulnerable condition, be a public display like this. He'd gone through so much! Frank felt like screaming but logic and self-control told him to stay calm. Then Frank saw. What he thought was shadow was actually blood. Dark red blood was flowing from Joe, pooling under his body. No, he thought numbly. No, this can't be...

"We need to take him to the hospital fast," one of the paramedics said, and immediately, they lifted Joe gently and placed him on the stretcher, strapping him in. Joe's head lolled to the side and Frank stared at his brother's face, the face he knew so well, the face which had broken into thousands of smiles and laughter, now frozen in a pain-racked grimace. Fresh blood dripped the sides of the stretcher onto the floor and Joe was wheeled out of the room, leaving a trail of splattered blood. "He's still bleeding."

The ride to the Bayport General was the longest ride of his life. Frank stayed by Joe's side, never once letting go of his limp hand. Staring down at his brother's pale face, Frank realized he would give anything, anything at all if Joe would just open his eyes. But his brother's eyes remained closed. Not once did Joe move, and he remained deathly still even until they rushed him in the ER.

Then reality, shock, realization, grief and pure anger hit Frank all at once and he could feel his breath knocked out of him like a punch to the gut. Frank dropped to his knees in the gravel and doubled over in anguish, leaning forward until his forehead nearly touched the ground. Why? His mind screamed. Why Joe? Why us? Then the tears did come, the tears that he'd been holding back gushed out of him like water from a spring, Frank lifted his tear-streaked face to the black night sky, completely oblivious to the curious passers-by, and stared at the stars shining brightly splattered across the Milky Way through blurry vision, wishing with all his heart that somehow God was listening to his cries, his pleas. Please, dear God, I want this to be over. I can't take this anymore, he prayed, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. But the pain could never match the pain he was feeling for Joe. Frank swallowed hard, tasting salty tears. Cry to heaven, Frank, he told himself. Just cry to heaven.

 

He's been raped, the doctor's words played over and over like a broken record in his head, sounding louder and louder by the second. Surprisingly Frank didn't feel anger or grief or even anxiety when he heard the news. He just felt empty. This is just another nightmare, he thought numbly. A little long and too realistic for my taste, but a nightmare all the same. I'm probably going to wake up in a couple of minutes. And Joe is going to wake up too. He's going to make a fuss but he's going to wake up nevertheless. And he'd talk me into fixing him breakfast, then begging for the keys even though it's my turn to drive. Oh well, that's my Joe. Can't live with him, can't live without him.

But Joe remained still, as still as he had been since he was brought in a few hours ago. The only signs of life were the steady rising and falling of his chest. Frank sighed and laid his head down on Joe's bed, staring at his brother's sleeping face. All the past events had conspired and finally taken a toll on Joe. Joe had a lost a few pounds in just three days, and he looked noticeably thinner, frailer. Dark circles ringed his eyes and his cheekbones protruded painfully against his thin face.

Raped. Never in a million years would Frank have thought that something like this would happen to anyone he knew. To have it happen to his own brother was unthinkable. Frank had failed to protect his brother for the second time. And he would never be able to live with it. Not after this one.

The violence had stripped Joe of something vital, something he'd have to fight to get back. A young man still trying to prove himself to others, in the search to find his own identity; that tenuous balance Joe held between youth and adulthood had been snatched from him just like that. Frank honestly didn't know if Joe was going to survive this. It took Joe a long time to get over Iola's untimely demise, nearly killing himself with grief and guilt in the process. Frank could still remember the empty shell that had been his brother for so many months after the fatal explosion that separated him from Iola forever.

Frank couldn't even begin to think of how the next few weeks, months or years were going to be like for both of them, for the family, and for all the people who knew Joe. But he knew he would always be there for Joe when everything crumbled around him. Nothing heals a broken heart like time, love and tenderness, Frank thought, remembering the song by Michael Bolton. How true. He was going to make sure Joe get through this. Even if it takes forever, I'll make amends, Frank vowed. My back is broad enough to carry Joe's burden, and I'll make sure Joe knows that the moment he opens his eyes.

"I'll stand by you, Joe," he whispered, brushing a few stray strands of blond hair off Joe's forehead. The porcelain-white face remained still, and Frank said it again, louder in the hope that Joe was listening. "I'll stand by you, little brother. Just like I've always been."