Frank returned home from his classes, feeling the strain of studying, his thesis and visiting Joe every alternate day wearing him down. It was evident in his gait which was heavy with lethargy that even coffee gave up trying to dispel. It was telling in his reluctance to slot the key into his Mustang each time he had to brave the raining leaves to reach UB. Now that he had knowledge of the secrets plaguing his brother, he knew he would slip one day and he would break the promise to keep silent. Already he wanted to run to Fenton and share the burden with someone wiser- stronger. But Joe’s story was not his to tell- the onus was not bestowed upon his lips- at least not yet.

All this time I wanted to him to unload to me. Now he did and I just can’t handle it as well as I should.

Thank goodness I didn’t pick Social Studies or Child Psychology. I think I’d go mad before my patients did.

Will he be strong enough? God, please let him be strong enough to ride through this.

The case which had become a back-burning issue for the past few days was recalled with an enormous amount of dread. Ever since he dropped his suspicions on Biff, Frank had no other substantial evidence to work with or leads to follow, besides the nagging thought about Phil which was looking more and more like a product of his own paranoia. The fire had gone out and the case smoldered like white ash with the lingering stench of blackened soot.

Coupled with the ambiguous test result which Joe made Frank promise to keep mum on it until he get another test to ascertain the results, Frank thought he was ready with explode with the numerous worries.

"Frank! Check the mailbox before you come in!" Laura must have heard him pulling into the driveway. She shouted for him from a lattice window facing the front and Frank looked up to see her pointing at the mailbox. Nodding listlessly, he retraced his steps a bit before turning around and trudged passed the gates to the lonesome fixture bearing tidings of all kinds.

Wet rotten leaves plastered on the top of the mailbox and Frank instinctively peeled them away before wiping his stained fingers on his jacket. The mailbox was more filled than usual- Maggie had neglected her daily duties of clearing the mailbox. Reaching in, Frank retrieved all the mail and brought them into the house before proceeding to sort out the junk from the important ones.

"Nope, no need for cars, not selling the house, not buying a new PC… coupons for Chicken Palace… keep. Mom’s, dad’s, mine, mine, and mine. Maggie’s, mom’s, Aunt Gertrude’s, mom’s, dad’s, mine, mine, mine… Joe’s. Okies. Done." Frank shoved his letters into his sling bag together with the lone mail for Joe before neatly displaying the sort out piles on the coffee table. Crushing the junk mail up into one huge ball, he took aim and threw it into the wastepaper basket from a challenging distance.

Laura stepped out from the kitchen, smelling like delicious chocolate cake. Frank’s stomach rumbled and he realized he was extremely hungry for some sweet delicacies. His mother saw him rub his stomach in anticipation subconsciously and nodded towards the kitchen with a smile. Frank grinned, his spirits lifting up several rungs. With the expressed permission, he rushed into the kitchen to help himself to a huge slice of home-made cake.

"Mom! I’m taking some for Joe!" Frank called out from the kitchen after polishing up his share and proceeded to place two slices into a Tupperware container. Joe adored chocolate in any shape, size or form and he thought maybe the treat would bring a smile to his brother’s lips, just as the one big slice did for him.

Chocolate cake to get over the trauma of abuse. How simplistic of me.

"Going to see your brother?" Laura asked most redundantly from the couch when Frank threw open the front door. He nodded hurriedly.

"Coming back for dinner?" His mother asked again.

"No, mom. I don’t think I’ll be hungry." Frank held the door open as he tried to slip his feet into his shoes without the aid of his hands. It was a task that required certain talents.

"You don’t think." Laura chided as she approached the entrance to kiss her son goodbye for the second time that day. Frank felt sorry for her and he knew she would love to hear him say he was bringing Joe home for dinner but Joe had explicitly expressed in an SMS earlier that he wanted some space.

Frank was not so sure if it was good idea to submit to Joe’s wishes but he thought probably Joe had something more to say to him and it was not convenient when everyone else was around.

"Mom, I’m a big boy! I can take care of myself!" Frank finally got both his feet into the shoes and Laura shook her head at him.

"You don’t even know the proper way to wear your shoes…" She clucked her tongue. A split second later, her lower lips trembled and her tone softened with some regret.

"Frank, does Joe still blame us for sending him in? Does he know we see no other choice?"

Frank was about to tell his mom that there were always alternative solutions to every problem but bit his tongue since even he could not see another way out. But he could not answer his mother truthfully thus he simply leaned over to kiss Laura on both cheeks as she smiled grimly and reluctantly waved him on his way.

***

The television lounge’s sole occupants were the two brothers and Frank hoped that no one else would disturb the peace. Joe was watching the cartoon shown on the tube with lackluster eyes. All hopes of putting a smile on Joe’s discolored lips were in vain as the two slices of chocolate cake laid forgotten on the coffee table- their mission to make his brother smile ended in pathetic failure as Joe did not even acknowledge their existence.

"Anyone visit you yesterday?" Frank pointed the remote control at the television to turn up the volume because he thought that the television was too soft. Joe covered his ears immediately at the slight change in volume.

"Chet and Tony did. It’s too loud, turn it back down." Joe drawled and Frank quickly turned the volume down again. It was not too loud, at least not to his ears. He was about the same distance away from the television as Joe and he could barely hear the cartoon. Worried, he glanced at Joe who was next to him and saw that his brother had released his hands.

"I told Emily about your headaches. You never mentioned it to her…"

"Don’t see the need."

"She thought you should go for a brain scan. I had her arrange for it next week. Thursday’s the earliest date the hospital can slot you in for. Don’t forget, all right? You don’t play around with headaches like these." Frank cautioned his brother gently while forcefully setting down the remote control as casually as he could, trying hard not to let worry leave its mark on his face.

"You talk too much." Joe mumbled and leaned back against the couch. "Quietness is a virtue. I really have a bad headache."

Frank sighed and decided not to read too much into Joe’s words. He suspected that the medication might have something to do with Joe’s perpetual somnolent state of late, but Emily assured him that the side-effects affecting Joe seemed minimal and would get better with time. Joe was responding well to the medication and his compliance with the necessary evil that came in little white pills was bringing his family more hope that he would get better.

"But Frank, I must make it known to you that Joe’s grief cannot be taken away by the pills. I know the controversy surrounding anti-depressants but I’m only using it on your brother to stop him from becoming increasingly self-destructive. The pills cannot heal him. Love and support must be the key ingredients to his recovery."

"I know, Emily."

"Ah! That look on your face. Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Nothing. Emily… "

"Your dad told me what he suspected. Couple that with the guilt Joe’s feeling over his dead girlfriends, it’s going to be a very rocky road for him to walk on."

"He can hold on to me."

"And who will you hold on to? I applaud your love for your brother but you can learn from Joe’s lesson. When you need help, do voice it out. It’s going to be devastating for your parents to lose another son to depression. All right? Promise me you’ll be more open than your brother."

Frank bit down on his lips. The need to confide was overwhelming.

"Joe went for an AIDS test. The result was ambiguous. He’s supposed to go for another one. He may seemed not bothered by it but I’m worried for him… how he’ll take it if… if…"

Frank was jolted out of his thoughts by shuffling movements next to him. Joe had struggled up and was walking out of the lounge- his eyes seemed to be intently focusing on something in front of him.

"Where are you going?" Frank stood up immediately, catching up with Joe just in time to stop him from leaving the room after he flung open the door. Joe scanned the hallway as if he was looking for something or someone. He did not seem to find what he was searching for as his face turned crestfallen.

"Joe?" Frank tappec his brother’s shoulder. "What are you looking for?"

Joe turned and stared at Frank blankly for moment before he broke into a shaky smile.

"Nothing. Let’s watch the cartoon…" Joe went back to the couch and sat back down, staring at the floor instead of the television, hugging himself real tightly.

Frank eyed Joe strangely but did as he was told. Fifteen minutes of silence later, he brought Joe back into his room since it was time for his medication and went to see Emily again for he couldn’t shake away the feeling that something was very wrong.

***

Joe waited until the nurse was out of his room before he dug the slightly dissolved pill out from under his tongue and spat it out onto his palm, hating it with so much disgust that he thought if the pill was alive, it would keel over and die from his glare. Plans were formulating in his mind, plans that would not have surfaced had he given himself over to the pill. He would take it again but only after his work was finished. Then he would take all the pills that they wanted him to take and be the perfect example of an obedient patient.

The door swung opened then and Frank came in with Emily and two other nurses, both males. Joe quickly closed his fingers over the pill and brought his hand to his back, trying to hide the pill under the pillow behind him but though he was fast, he was never going to be faster than the speed of light for Frank saw it. Frank saw the betrayal.

His elder brother shook his head in disbelief and he saw hot tears shimmering in his brother’s eyes. Frank hardly cried. Anxious to gain back his brother’s trust, Joe’s mind raced with excuses that would sound plausible to get him out the mess. Emily had slapped on her gloves and was now preparing an injection for him over by the table with the two nurses helping her.

"You lied to me." Frank closed his eyes and his breathing was so heavy that Joe could hear it from the other side of his room and even feel the pressure.

"No… Frank…. I was going to take it later. I need to do some work… you know… sending out invitations for Chet before the party date approaches…"

"Stop lying!" Frank’s eyes flared opened as he clenched his hands into fists to control his anger from bubbling out of control. Joe could recognize that rage in Frank but never was it once directed at him. Never, until then. He screwed up again- as expected.

"Whatever it is you know you can come to me! What must I do to get this idea drilled down your damn thick skull?!"

"Frank… I think it’ll be better if you leave." Emily looked up from her task and commanded Frank firmly. Joe struggled to get up so he could, well, be closer to his brother and try to calm him down as well. He did not want to scream his reasons at Frank because Emily would hear.

"Frank, I…"

"Shut up." Frank was obviously in too much anger to listen to any of them and Joe panicked from where he was- just a few steps away from his bed. His heart leapt crazily in his throat and he thought he would pass out very soon. Familiar black specks like asteroids bombarded his vision. His sight focused and blurred- in perfect synchronization with the rise and fall of the anxiety churning in his stomach.

"No… Frank… please… I…" Joe could hardly begin when Frank let out a roar of frustration and slammed his fist against the door.

Joe staggered back at the violence. Now, he was really lost for words. Frank averted his eyes and clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles were bone-white. With a sinking feeling, Joe knew he had probably undid all the efforts Frank put in to re-tie the brotherly bonds between the both of them.

"Frank, you should leave for a moment…" Emily readied the needle and spoke to Frank. Perhaps she was wondering which brother she should apply the injection to. Frank looked as if he had no intentions to leave. He leaned against the door, keeping silent as his chest heaved up and down with heavy breathing.

Emily approached Joe with the injection. The two nurses stood behind her, about to restrain him if needed.

He saw Alan lay broken on the dirty floor and the hands that held him, hands that kept him where he was so he would witness the whole scene which was a portend of things to come, relaxed. He was about to turn around and fight his captor when another pair of hands pushed him down onto the floor and held him still.

"No… let me go! Damn all of you! Let me go! Frank! Don’t let them take me… please… NO! JUST LET ME GO!"

Heavy, malevolent legs started kicking him relentlessly as he writhed on the ground in blinding pain. Unearthly agony shredded through his consciousness and his only defense against the senseless violence was to shut his eyes to remove his sense of sight. One sense down, five more to go. An unnatural scream pierced the air but he had no idea if it was him or Alan who wailed. Sneers, threats and sounds of violation attacked his state of being and there Vanessa was, watching in disgust as his weakness, defilement, failure... Just like his weakness when he could not save her from Death’s grip. She turned away and he reached for her only to be pulled back again. His hands were stormed upon and evil laughter rang out.

Her knight had fallen off his white horse- his armor dented, rusted and riddled with holes.

"We have a sweet treat for you, pretty boy! You do have beautiful hands. Fenton Hardy’s going to be so heartbroken when he sees this…"

"Quick! The guards are coming!"

"Who cares about the guards? I rule here!"

"FRANK! HURRY! DON’T LET THEM TOUCH ME! Frank! Please… don’t let…"

They forced his eyes fully opened so he would see whatever they were going to do to him next. Fear choked him when he saw hot steam rising from a metal container like toxic fumes of bubbling acid. A long-haired man poured sugar into the container and mixed it in with whatever liquid was inside, leering at him at the same time.

"No, no… please…. Don’t burn…"

Hands grabbed him again and his body clothed in bruises, welts and copperish, sticky blood was hefted up and then slammed stomach down onto the slippery shower floor, smeared crimson with his spilling life. They pulled his hands straight over his head and yanked his hair to lift his chin off the floor in order to force him to watch his impending torture. He tried to squeeze his eyes shut tightly but someone slapped him hard and pried his eyelid open with dirty fingers.

The boiling water and oil were poured torturously slow onto his hands and he thought his flesh sizzled- cooked by the intense heat. When his mind registered the pain after the initial shock, it was too overwhelming and, culminated with everything else that he had just suffered through, he shrieked from the nadir of his soul. The despairing wails woke Alan up from his tormenting reverie and Joe saw his friend cowering in fear. His hands screamed, taking his mind off whatever had just transpired. They had their fun. Someone took a knife and Joe felt a stabbing pain at his side, ending the tragedy with a bloody mess of mangled flesh.

The whistle sounded too late.

"Joe… Joe… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry kiddo… forgive me…"

Comforting hands held him and he rested his head on the strong, familiar shoulder. Comforting hands that came too late but now, he just wanted to feel safe. They were gone. Alan’s gang rivals, Fenton’s arch nemeses, they were all gone. Only he was there. He would protect his kid brother.

"But you can’t be here… you’re not real… you can’t be here…"

Sweet darkness was taking over- a respite from his tormenting encounter. He was sleepy and Frank would guard his sleep.

"Shh… I’m here and I’m real. I’m real…see?"

His assurance sounded so good and Joe wanted to believe. But he could not for how could he when the concentric currents that sucked him deeper into the crushing core of the vortex were so brutal?

"Don’t let them hurt me again…" Joe pleaded sleepily. His breathing calmed and there was peace.

"I won’t. They can never touch you again."

His brother’s voice drowned out the crying and condemning

He desperately wanted to believe.