Siblings with benefits

I took my father's hand and we went downstairs. On the way to his den Dad poked his head in the kitchen and asked if Mark needed stitches. I winced at that remembering that Gregg had needed six after I had gotten him. My poor brother, never mind how much worse it could have been if the lamp had hit him. Mom had said it wasn't that bad and Dad told her we would be in the Den.

Dad's den was really an extra bedroom that he had populated with a tv, a couple of recliners and a small couch. The room smelled of the cigars that he loved and that Mom would only allow him to smoke in there.

Dad sat in the big overstuffed chair that was older than I was and I sat on the edge of the couch a couple of feet to his left. We sat quietly for a couple of minutes. I was gathering my thoughts trying to figure out how to start, Dad had that awkward look on his face he always got when he realized he was going to have to deal with emotional things.

Finally I spoke, telling Dad I was sorry I scared him, that I had let the dream get me so crazy. I was fishing with this statement and Dad took the bait, asking me if I had any idea why it would have hit me so hard after all these years. I looked at my father and told him it was because I had been so afraid lately. Once again going exactly where I was leading him Dad asked what I was so afraid of. With no hesitation I told him I was afraid for Mark, for both of us.

Dad sighed as if saying "This again." I closed my eyes and allowed the vision of my brother being led away from me to enter my mind. In an instant my eyes welled up and tears started to trickle down my cheeks. My father held his ground however, saying we were here to talk about the dream and how he could help me not about what had happened last week. I told him it was the same thing, that I had watched my brother taken away from me once and couldn't deal with it happening again.

Dad shook his head saying that if he told Mark to leave I was twenty and he was eighteen, we would see each other we just wouldn't live together. I told my father it wasn't that simple that Mark and I needed each other whether he understood it or not. When Dad rolled his eyes I got upset and told him that he didn't understand what Mark and I had been through.

Dad countered with of course he knew what we had been through and that it killed him to think of those things. He went on to say he didn't just feel for me but Mark as well but things were better now and the past was the past and...

I cut him off. I had originally planned on going with the water works, the "oh please Daddy" approach but now I found myself feeling more aggressive. I felt it was high time my father understood how little he really did understand. I began by telling him just that; that just because he "knew" what my brother and I had been through didn't mean he understood it. Unless you had suffered through it yourself there was no way you could. My father was getting annoyed, he had thought I had needed him but now I was on the attack. Dad responded to me perfectly however giving me the "Why don't you make me understand?"

I was more than happy to oblige him. I told him about how just because things happened years ago didn't mean they ever went away. I asked him if he thought the nightmare I had just had was real. He agreed and I told him to imagine years of that. Imagine going to bed at night wondering if tonight was the night that you would have to relive that hell. I told him that yes he and mom had given me a wonderful life but they could not erase what had happened. I told him Mark had dreams that were just as vivid. I then asked him if he really wanted to know why we slept with the doors locked. Ignoring the smart ass remark of "I had kind of figured it out at the hotel" I told him how Frank would let himself into my room at night when I was asleep and sneak up on me. Shoving my face into the pillow and tearing my pants off before I was even fully awake. Dad looked away at that point and started to say something, but I stopped him saying this is what he needed to hear. Of course he knew I had been abused but he never heard the details, never wanted to because he didn't have the stomach for it.

I proceeded to tell him about the one time I had locked my door, how the next day Frank, as a punishment, not only raped me but had forced it into my mouth until I threw up then hit me for making a mess. Dad told me that was enough and I asked him if he couldn't even listen to it how did he think I was supposed to be able to forget it? I told him that the reason I hadn't slept all week was because not only was my door unlocked but every time he had come up and tried it, every time I heard the knob rattle I was transported back to those days.

Before Dad could respond I went into Mark. Told him how when Max was drunk or strung out, which was most of the time, he would barge into Mark's room and wake him up just to accuse him of something he never did then beat him, beat him so badly he would miss days of school at a time. Told my father how when Max caught Mark trying to lock the door he had made my brother put his hand on the floor and stomped on it until it broke. For Mark it didn't end after Max, when he was in the group home the other kids picked on him all the time because he wouldn't speak.

Of course when they would touch him Mark would fight back and always win. So a couple of times three of them got together and sneaking into Mark's room at night held my brother down while they took turns beating him. So yes Mark and I locked our doors because for some strange reason we felt safer that way. I then went into the fact that he thought Mark and I were having sex.

I admitted that Mark and I might be a little closer than your average brother and sister, but we had also been separated for ten years and had been hurt badly during that time. I went back to the nightmares. That he had just seen how bad they could be. I asked what were we supposed to do at our age go downstairs and tell mommy and daddy we couldn't sleep? No instead Mark and I would go into each other's room and sit on the bed and talk.

Now as I was speaking the tears began to flow again as the next thing I spoke of was how when Mark and I were young we shared a bedroom and when Mom had yet another drunken asshole boyfriend over and they were fighting I would get into my brothers bed and we would hold each other. Remembering that, the next time Mark had one of those horrible dreams I decided to just lie down with him so he could sleep. I then admitted that we had been doing it ever since, it wasn't all the time I lied; just maybe once every couple of weeks or so. The hotel was a strange place for Mark, so knowing he'd have trouble sleeping I just let him lie down with me. We talked for awhile then fell asleep.

Dad shook his head saying that it was the way we were lying together, that we were way to comfortable, like a couple would sleep. At that I told dad that he was right, in the fact we were that close when we slept because we couldn't with anyone else. I told him it was about safety not lust or any physical desire. I then decided to make Dad squirm a bit and got into my issues with men telling him how I couldn't sleep with them. Dad made a comment about how we shouldn't be discussing that.

I informed him that his little girl was twenty years old and although certainly not a tramp in anyway had been with a few boyfriends. As Dad looked away I continued on telling him how I had issues with sex. Without getting into more detail than he could handle I told my father that not only were there certain things I couldn't do, that if I was so much as touched in a certain way I got nervous and upset. I told him about Greg, how I had really liked him and we had been sleeping together and how one day just playing around he had grabbed me the wrong way and gotten six stitches in his arm for it.

So because of that, on the occasions that Mark did lie in my bed, we tended to get close. At this point I decided to throw Dad a bone and admit that it had never occurred to me how bad it looked at our age, just because those thoughts had never crossed our minds but I could see where it might have looked funny to him especially because he was so protective of me. I also told him that we wouldn't do it anymore, that if we had to take things to help us sleep or go back to counseling we would. Then looking at my father I let the emotions flow through me and started crying harder asking him to please believe me.

Not just for Mark but that it hurt me to think that he would think of me that way. That I would be capable of a sexual relationship with my brother as I said this I heard a voice in the back of my mind calling me a liar; that my father deserved better than this, but all that mattered was Mark right now. I begged him not to think I was some kind of a sick whore. I stopped and putting my head in my hands cried harder, this was not an act I had gotten myself going again and now really couldn't stop. I just kept picturing Mark being led away from me.

Dad leaned over and put his hand on my arm, when I looked up he kissed my tear streaked cheek and told me that he did believe me. That he and mom had discussed it several times this week and he had realized he might be blowing it out of proportion. He added that he still went through the locks and not allowing us together because he felt he had to until he was completely convinced and seeing me like this told him the truth. That I couldn't possibly be this upset if I were lying. Little did he know...

I asked him if that meant Mark would be staying. Dad frowned and said that was a different story. Before I could speak he raised his hand and said it was his turn to talk. As I sat stunned, that after all this he still wanted Mark out, Dad started. He told me exactly what Krissy had; that Mark was changing he could see it. Mark had been through a lot and had the issues to prove it and in my father's eyes he was becoming dangerous. Dad pointed out the last few karate tournaments, where Mark was hitting so hard that there was talk of banning him from them. He also brought up Mark's growing arrogance and disdain for the people around him, as well as that look that he got when he worked out.

Dad reminded me that my father Matthew, whom I had really no memory of and that Mark had never met, had been unstable, how he had been in and out of trouble and had finally snapped and killed someone and was currently in a mental institution. Dad had seen a picture of my real father and that Mark could be his twin, he also mentioned how my father had been into the occult, and had been a gifted martial artist, but also had been on medication for some type of mental disorder. He had been off his meds for a month when he had run into trouble in a bar and broken the neck of a bouncer who had tried to throw him out.

As I sat knowing full well where this was going my father said he was afraid that Mark was heading exactly in that direction. That it was genetic, Mark knew nothing of his father yet was somehow just like him. Dad stopped and I remained silent, tears running down my cheeks. I looked up and told him that I was from the same father, did he think that way of me?

Dad shook his head and then with a sigh looked at me, telling me that they had gotten me when I was young enough but he felt it might be too late for Mark, that he was broken beyond repair. I disagreed pointing out his fantastic grades, how he had been with Krissy for over a year now. I knew he was struggling but he would get through. Dad asked me how much longer did I really think Krissy would be around she had already broken up with him once and it was for the same reasons. I shook my head and getting control of my voice told Dad that Mark was different than my father because he had us. We had given him a good life he would okay he would...

Dad interrupted and asked me to let him tell a story. I nodded and he proceeded to tell me about how a few years ago a friend of his from work's wife had brought home an abused dog. The wife, who was a volunteer at an animal shelter told her husband how the owners of the dog trained pit bulls and what they did was tie this dog to a tree and let the pits attack it teaching them commands so this poor dogs life was literally getting attacked until it would no longer be able to defend itself.

The people worked with the dog for months gained its trust and eventually it had become not only a pet but a member of the family. They owned the dog for well over a year and then one day the guy told my Dad they had to put it down. For apparently no reason the dog had snapped; they had all been in the house and the dog who had been chewing a bone suddenly got up and started pacing, when one of the kids went to pet him the dog attacked, biting not only the boy but the father as well, they had to lock it in a room and by the time the cops had gotten there it had all but chewed through the door and it had to be shot.

Dad said that Mark reminded him of that story. On the surface he still seemed okay but underneath there was something growing, something dark and sooner or later it would come out. Dad claimed he could see it in Mark's eyes sometimes, like there was something moving behind them like he was waiting for something. As I sat with my head down, my stomach twisting Dad said that he just didn't want to take a chance, they had done the best they could for Mark but he felt that Mark was a time bomb and maybe it would be best for every one if he went to live somewhere else.

I lost it. I started sobbing uncontrollably. Dad put his hand on my shoulder but I wouldn't stop crying. Looking up at him I gasped out in between the sobs to please not take Mark away from me, that we needed each other and that it wasn't right! Dad asked me to calm down but I couldn't, he tried to tell me Mark would be okay, I would still see him, that...

I cut him off with what could only be described as a wail. I was crying so hard I was choking. I got up and throwing myself into Dad's lap wrapped my arms around his neck. As he held me I spoke through my sobs and tears. I was basically blubbering at this point but didn't care. I told him that Mark didn't just need me he needed them to. They were the only family Mark ever knew and yes he was having a really hard time right now, but shouldn't that mean that we needed to be there for him even more?

If Dad thought he was slipping now, what would happen if he was alone? Then he would end up getting in trouble. I told my father that I knew he cared about Mark, that he hadn't just let him live with us for me but that he and mom wanted to help him. I told him how much Mark loved mom, how good she was to him and how bad he needed that. I reminded him of how he had only hit Jake because he was sticking up for mom and that he had gotten upset at the hotel because I was upset. That all Mark was trying to do was protect the few people who were good to him. Dad began to say he was just worried about his family.

I let out another of those pathetic noises saying that Mark was my family! I told Dad that all Mark needed was some help I would make him talk to someone and talk to us, but to kick him out would be the end of him. I asked dad I had just been a screaming maniac, was he going to get rid of me? Dad exclaimed of course not he would never give up on me. I then begged him not to give up on my brother. From then on begging is exactly what I did I just kept saying please over and over again. Dad was silent as I begged and cried, after I started getting a grip on myself I lifted my head off his shoulder just enough to get a look at his face. My father had tears in his eyes, whether it was from my constant crying or that maybe I was getting through to him I didn't know, all I knew was that it was a good sign for me. Once again I felt that odd calm come over me. With an effort I reigned my tears in and sitting up on my father's lap looked at him and putting my eyes down pushed out my lower lip and whispered;

"Please Daddy? Please don't give up on Mark, he's going to be fine, he just needs us."

"Megan..." He started.

"Please Daddy? Please just trust me?" Yeah, because I would never lie to you.

Dad sighed.

"You're worse than your mother Megan, she was crying about this last night."

"I love you Daddy." I told him hugging him.

"I know you do hon. I love you too." He sighed again.

"You're right Megan we need to try to help him."

"So he can stay?"

"He can, but I do want to have a long talk with him and I want you both to go back to the councilors that you two somehow decided you didn't need a few months ago."

"Oh thank you Dad!" I said kissing his cheek. "Can I tell him its okay?"

"Yeah okay, I doubt he's asleep." Dad said. "Probably wondering if he needs a tetanus shot."

"Hey!" I laughed. "That's not nice."

"Go talk to your brother and then get some sleep hon. Tell him I'll talk to him in the morning."

I was so happy I felt giddy. I all but jumped up from my father's lap then I looked down as something else occurred to me.

"Dad can I lock my door at night?"

"I don't know Megan I can't afford to have Mark kicking them down."

I laughed, but he frowned

"Seriously Megan what if you have another nightmare?"

"If I lock my door I feel better. Please Dad?"

"Okay Megan for now anyways but hon?"

"Yes?"

"Seriously I don't want Mark and you in the same bed anymore, it's just not right got it?" I started to reply but he raised his hand and continued;

"Because if I see it again he's out on his ass Megan, then and there I'll throw him out myself, no matter how hard you cry got it?"

I nodded, we would be careful from now on. Hell we'd never gotten caught before.

"Okay," I told Dad. "If he can't sleep we'll come downstairs and talk or something."

"That's fine. Good night honey."

I headed out of the study and all but ran into Mom who had obviously been listening at the door.

"Mom!" I started.

"I know Megan I heard." She said grinning. Then putting her hands on my shoulders asked me if I was okay.

"Yes much better!"

Mom looked at me strangely then said;

"Megan I know you want to go talk to Mark and you're probably exhausted, but let me ask you, why do you think you reacted so badly to that dream?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I think because I haven't slept and been so worried about Mark and dad."

"Yeah? You think that's it?"

"I think so why?"

Mom shook her head.

"Just wondering, now go on up and tell your brother he doesn't have to pack."

"Okay."

"Megan?"

"Mom?"

"For the record I would have never let Dad go through with it. Mark's a part of this family as much as you are."

"Then why did you let me think..."

Mom winked.

"I'd rather have dad think it was his decision. That he did it for his little girl rather than his wife told him he couldn't"

I all but ran up the stairs to Mark's room. I was just about to enter when I remembered that my Dad had said the doors were okay. I quickly went over to my door and locked it before going back to Mark's room. I knocked once then went in.

Mark was sitting on the bed staring off into space his right arm had gauze wrapped around it. He looked up when I came in.

"You okay sis?"

"I'm better than okay little brother!" I exclaimed running over and sitting next to him. "Know why?"

Before he could answer I hugged him so hard we almost fell backwards onto the bed and said;

"Dad's not going to ask you to leave Mark!"

"Really?" His eyes widened.

"Really Mark!" I laughed. "I'll tell you that dream scared the shit out of me, but you know what? It got Dad off guard and I was able to get him to listen."

"Speaking of, are you okay Meg? That was pretty fucking bad."

"Mark I'm so sorry about your arm."