I was upstairs, playing around with my sister.
Thud, followed by the sound of a plastic cup clanging its way on the floor.
The hair at the back of my neck stood up. I knew exactly what it was.
Me and my sisters rushed downstairs, two steps at the same tie.
My brother was on the floor. He lies sprawled against the sofa, which he seems to have fallen against.
My sisters went to his side, while I grabbed a pillow to cushion his head against the sofa. I checked for blood.
There is none.
All the while, he seems glazed, as if he doesn't know where he is. That is normal. It always happens when he has his fits.
But there's something else.
A small sound escapes his lips.
My brother only does so when he is in extreme pain.
I hesitated, wanting to ask him where it is. But I can't.
I feel hopeless. I don't know what to do. This...helplessness...this weakness of mine...shit...
It threatens to burst out of my chest.
I felt for his leg. He moaned louder, pushing my hand away.
I went to the kitchen.
Why is always a question that's dee...