The dull light from my iPhone illuminated my face as I scrolled through my Facebook news feed, an occasional giggle of mine splitting the nighttime silence. I jumped slightly in my bed when the wall clock downstairs rang twelve times. Realizing that the ringing meant that it was twelve o’clock, I figured I might as well go to sleep. However, a few moments after I had found that one comfortable position in bed, my door burst open suddenly and I was blinded by the sudden flash of my overhead light. I froze and held my breath, imagining the worst. A burglar or murderer? Fugitives or escaped psychopaths?

I heard a weird noise, peeked over the edge of my bed and saw… my brother. It was my fifteen-year-old brother, “Mark”, who stood in the middle of my room as if he was searching for something. He stood there for a few more seconds before leaving, without even turning off the light. I waited just a bit before following him to my parents’ room, where I found my mom cradling my brother. He was murmuring something inaudible that was brought tears to my mother’s eyes. My dad stood a bit off to the left, the phone in his hand as he called the doctor and a look of panic in his usually calm eyes.

My brother looked up and his dark eyes met mine. A strange smile crossed his face- he almost looked relieved. I stood completely still out of fear as he hobbled over to me and then just embraced me without warning or hesitation. Now, this might have been normal for me if he was the type of brother who hugged on a regular basis, but he wasn’t. He hated my hugs. But there he was, holding me in his first ever willingly-given hug. And then I heard what he was saying. I heard what had made my mom cry.

“I love you. I love you so much, so much. I love you so, so much, “ he whimpered.

I only got to hold him for a few seconds before my mom coaxed him back and sat him down on the edge of her bed. She told me that everything would be okay, but the horribly distraught look on her face didn’t convince me. My dad kept on repeating “Do you need to go to the hospital?” and that irritated me because my brother was extremely disorientated. He almost seemed like he was “on drugs,” at least with how my friends and I imagine drugged people to behave. I found it rather ridiculous that my dad would ask him such a thing.

They eventually took him to the hospital and I really wanted to go with them, but they told me to go back to sleep. I felt my lips quiver as an argument rose inside of me. This was my brother they weren’t letting me accompany and, even though we fight a lot, I love him. However, not wanting to keep him from seeing a doctor, I complied and returned to my room. There, I lay on my bed, crying silently long after the slam of the front door stopped ringing through the house. I managed to go to sleep at about two o’clock.

Later on that day, at around twelve in the afternoon, my brother came downstairs. I looked at the ground as the conversation from earlier with my mom came to mind.
“So? What was it?” I grabbed the edge of my shirt anxiously.
My mom sighed and stared down at her phone, scrolling through some website that was probably where she was getting her information. Disappointment and sadness flashed across her face before the answered. “Well, um, last night, your idiot brother decided it would be fun to take some strange drug.” I heard her mumble the name, but I couldn’t hear the exact words over the ringing of the old words in my ears.
D r u g.
I didn’t wish to trouble her about the name, so I didn’t ask again. She also wanted me not to act awkward around him and just offer support. But… I couldn’t quite bring myself to even look at his face. I didn’t know what was supposed to happen- were we going to talk about what happened or not? When I could finally bring myself to glance in his direction, I saw nothing indifference on his face and relaxation in his posture. He looked like he usually did on a Sunday morning.

How could he act like he didn’t do anything wrong? If I ever did anything like that, which I wouldn’t, I would feel horrible. How could he be so passive?! He looked over in my direction and I forced a smile onto my face. He stared at me for a while and then went to the fridge for food. I scowled at his turned back and then almost felt bad. Maybe he was pressured into it. Maybe it was a bet. I don’t know. I looked down at my hands. And I probably never will know. I glanced back up at him.

A smile pulled its way onto my face. A genuine one. I may not ever be able to agree with him taking that drug, but I do know one thing for certain: I love my big brother, and I will not hesitate at all to give him the support he needs. As long as it’s not more drugs.