I have a brother that lives in the attic.
I grew up with three sisters as the only boy. My father always joked that we were outnumbered. As long as I can remember I always wanted a brother. Older or younger didn’t matter, as long as I had someone close to my age interested in the same things as me. A running joke in my family was that I did have a brother, he simply lived in the attic. I wish it would have stayed that way.
The summer that followed my seventeenth birthday had been as normal as ever. I spent a large portion of it with my best friend Tim. His father was single and had a good job. Which meant he had plenty of time and money, and nothing to spend them on; something we both regularly took advantage of. Pizza, video games, trying to flirt with as many girls as possible, late nights, life was everything a seventeen-year-old boy could ask for. That all changed on the twenty-seventh of July.
The first hour of my morning had been spent scrolling aimlessly on Facebook and checking my Snapchat. The pang of disappointment I felt having received zero notifications was washed away by a knock on my door. “Hey Peter, could you go up to the attic? Your dad’s keyboard went out and he says there should be one up there. Should be a box that says electronics on it.” Said my mom as she poked her head in the doorway. “Yeah sure, no problem.” I called back.
As I pulled down the stairs that led to the attic a large cloud of dust misted the hallway and caused my eyes to water. The attic wasn’t my favorite place in the house. It was always arid and hot, and a musty smell hung in the air. If it wasn’t for all that I might’ve claimed it as my bedroom. The state of the attic didn’t fill me with optimism. Boxes were piled to the ceiling and lined the walls, stacked in weird formations that almost turned the place into a maze. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Think of it as an adventure, yeah an adventure.” I said to myself. I turned on my phone’s flashlight and pushed forward on my quest for the illustrious Keyboard of The Father.
I spent the first fifteen minutes perusing the boxes near the entrance. Most of them seemed to be old kitchen sets, and boxes full of pictures that weren’t deemed worthy of gracing our walls and shelves. Beyond that seemed to be tubs of old toys my sisters and I used to use as kids. My mother always was sentimental.
I first heard it when I decided to push further beyond the toys. A low sound that I couldn’t quite make out. A thumping? No. It was…. scratching? Yes! That was it. I let out a nervous chuckle as goosebumps began to cover my body. “Must be a rat or squirrel.” I mumbled to myself. That was all it was, right?
As I pushed deeper into the madness that was the organization of the attic, the scratching got louder and louder. The nervous excitement in my body soon turned into a deep-rooted uneasiness. I swallowed hard as my curiosity got the better of me. I slowly crept forward in the sound’s direction until I was met by a wall of boxes. I could hear it clearly now, a deep scratching on hardwood. Hesitantly I began to move the boxes aside. What I saw caused my heart to plummet. Built into the wall was a door about 3 and a half feet tall with a wooden latch locking it shut. I stood frozen in fear as questions ran through my mind. After what seemed like an eternity I reached forward towards the latch; my hand shaking with fear. When my hand found purchase with the latch, I hesitated to open it. That was when I noticed them. Claw marks lined the first inch of the floor before the door, and more of them lined the outside of the doorframe. With a final moment of bravery, or foolishness, I lifted the latch, and swung the door open.
What I saw paralyzed me. Eyes. Plain white pupil-less eyes. And they were staring right back at me. From what little bit my phone illuminated I could see a mangy head of hair that drooped to the floor in pools. Attached was the head of…some….thing. It looked almost human, if it weren’t for the eyes and the crooked sharp teeth protruding from its mouth. My eyes then drifted down to the shape of its body. It sat on all fours, its limbs boney and thin. It wore nothing but a loin cloth that seemed to be the remnants of underwear. Lastly, I had located the origin of the sound. Protruding from its fingers were long, bone-like claws that were clenched into the wood, scratch marks seemed to cover the small room this thing resided in. As I was enthralled in trying to rationalize what I was seeing, the beast lunged at me. The action caused me to fall backwards onto my back and I dropped my phone. The thing probably would’ve ripped me apart if it weren’t for the chain around its neck restricting it to the room. I couldn’t stand it anymore, I had to get out of here. With every ounce of strength I had left in myself, I pulled myself up and bolted for the exit. Where I ran headfirst into my father.
That night my parents had explained to me that I did have a brother. However, when he was born my parents noticed he was…. different. As he grew up, my parents noticed he got increasingly violent, and eventually decided to lock him away. The act broke my parents’ hearts, but they said they did it out of his own protection. In their misery they had decided to try again and ended up having me. I spent most of the night swimming in the abyss of that bombshell.
Now what happened next, I still can’t explain. Whether it was morbid curiosity or some weird sense of my own morality I can’t say. But, at two thirty in the morning, I decided to rescue my brother. Surely, he deserved a fate better than being locked in some lightless closet in the attic. I crept out of bed, making sure to be as quiet as possible. I slipped into the kitchen and grabbed my dad’s bolt cutters out of the drawer and large piece of ham from the fridge, then headed back into the attic. My hands shook as I stood in front of the small door once again. I took a deep breath and then proceeded with my plan.
I swung the door open again and took sight of my…. brother. It seemed he’d heard me coming as he was perched on all fours again looking in my direction. I swore in that moment I could a human curiosity in his eyes. I slowly pulled the ham from my pocket and raised it up so he could get a good look. “It’s okay, I’m your brother. I’m….well I’m going to get you out of here.” I said to him. The ham seemed to hold his attention enough, though I had no way of knowing if my words meant anything to him. I pulled a chunk of ham off the slice I brought I held it outward in my palm as I edged closer to him. He paused for a moment and sniffed the air. With a quickness I wasn’t expecting he snatched the ham from my hand. I winced in pain as one of his teeth dug into my hand and left a decent scratch. “That’s alright buddy, you don’t know any better.” I said as he continued to gulp down the piece. While he was distracted, I used the bolt cutters to cut his chain loose from the wall, and then took hold of what remained. I then held the rest of the ham out in front of him and tugged on the chain gently. “Come on, follow me.”
My brother seemed to be more docile than my parents described at the time. I’ll never know if he just felt too weak to attack me, or if he genuinely understood I was helping him. I quietly guided him out of the attic and down the stairs. The whole time having to keep mind of him and the ham I held in my other hand. As I closed the stairs to the attic, my heart froze. At the end of the hall was my mother, staring back and my brother and I. “Peter what the hell are you-” I didn’t stay to let her finish. I bolted for the front door with my brother in tow.
We made it about twenty feet from the house when I heard my father’s voice. “Peter get back here!” I pushed his commands away from my mind and continued to run, until I heard the distinct sound of a gun chambering a bullet. I turned to see my father aiming a rifle at us. I turned back to my brother and looked at him for the last time. “Run!” I dropped his chain and gave him a quick slap on the back. He didn’t need another second to think it over as he bolted ahead without me. I turned back to run toward my father, trying my best to muddy his line of sight. “Stop! You can’t!” I yelled as I neared him. My father lowered his gun as I closed the distance between us, and a sense of relief washed over me. I turned back to see my brother disappearing into the tree line. I smiled and turned back to my father. Then everything went black.
When I awoke, I found myself in a small dark room. I had no clothes, save my underwear, and a chain was attached to my neck. I saw my father peering through the door. He sighed and looked at me directly. “I always knew you were too kind for your own good.” Those were the last words he ever spoke to me. “Wait!” I cried. It was too late. The door was swung shut and locked. I slumped down in the corner in defeat. That was when I noticed the cut on my hand, it looked infected. The skin around it was pale, and my veins were easier to see. I could already feel myself changing.
There was no avoiding it. I was now the brother in the attic.