Jess found his brother sitting at the end of his bed, his head hung down. He had he hands covering his face. His black hair was clinging to his forehead from what looked like sweat. The glasses he usually wore were placed on the bedside table. One lens was cracked. He was wearing a white shirt stained with dark red splotches and black slacks. Jess couldn’t help but think that the red stains looked ironically similar to Osmond’s bed sheets — a dark shade of maroon. He started to wonder that if there were stains on the bed as well, but couldn’t see them.
Every few seconds, a plopping sound will appear. Plop…plop…plop. Jess’s eyes followed the sound to a small puddle under Osmond’s left foot. It was a puddle of sweat mixed with blood. Jess shivered, swallowing hard. He slowly stepped closer to his brother, and sat down next to him. He could barely make out his profile, from the hair that fell over his face and his hands covering the only skin you could see from under it. “Osmond,” he whispered. The older boy made no indication that he heard him. “Brother, what happened? Why are you…bleeding?” Jess’s eyes made their way back to the puddle. It was small, not a worrisome amount, but any sight of blood was enough to make him uneasy.
Osmond let out a soft moan. The younger brother looked back up. His eyes widened. It was then, that Jess noticed where the blood was dripping from — his face. It seeped through his fingers, some onto his shirt, the rest to the puddle under his feet. “Th-the blood…it’s–” Was all he could let out. “It’s…fr-from your face!”
The older brother moaned again, this time louder. It almost sounded like muffled words. Almost. Jess looked at him confused. What was he trying to say? Osmond slowly started to pry his hands from his face. It looked almost painful for him to do. His hands were shaking. Jess held his breath. The excess bleeding from his brother’s face finally made sense.
The blood was coming from his eyes.
His normally hazel eyes were bloodshot, he could barely pry them open. There were scratched covering all over his lids; peeling, bloody skin. Jess held back a gasp. Who had done this? Why have they done this? “Brother…” Osmond groaned. “I can’t…see.”
“Who did this?” Jess asked worried. The blood continued to drip down the older boy’s face. It looked like he was crying blood.
Osmond shook his head. “No one.”
Jess’s body started to tense. “What do you–?”
“I did, Jessie. I did it.”
The older brother then collapsed. Jess caught him before he fell onto the ground. Osmond’s left foot smeared the blood puddle across the floor. Jess exhaled. He placed his brother back onto the bed. For a moment, he stared at the blood on the floor. Someone had to clean that up. And the only thing he knew at that moment was — it wasn’t going to be him.
He sprinted out of the room, calling for help.