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Pain

Never in my life had I ever seen my poor older brother in so much pain.

His left arm lay twisted in a disgustingly contorted position, one that I know he shouldn't have been able to create naturally. That's the first sign that I know I should get the hospital involved, despite his protests otherwise. The pain makes him shake violently, every muscle taut and trembling. His dark green eyes are wide and frantic as he watches me call the necessary numbers and it's hard for me not to think of spooked horses, and him working with them and trying to calm them down so he can lead them back to the stable, to safety. That's it; I'd work to get him calmed down before the doctors came here.

I explain my problem calmly to the nurse on the other end of the phone, keeping my eyes locked with his. His right hand clutches at the upper part of his left arm and he tries to keep the trembling down to a minimum, wincing whenever a chill surged through his body. The nurse tells me that they'd be over as soon as possible, reassuring me that everything's going to be fine and they'll make sure they're prepared for my older brother to come in. Good. I thank her for her time and help, and hang up the phone.

That's when hell breaks loose. My brother, sitting on the floor with his expression set into a mix of confusion and pain, lets out a feral yell that makes me flinch back and clamp my hands over my ears. “Hermann, please, calm down!” I yell over his din, and he quiets down almost immediately, his scream reduced to a few miserable whimpers. Once he's quieted down, I take my hands off my ears and kneel down next to him. Right, here comes the hard part: keeping my older brother calmed down.

I reach up one hand to smooth back his hair, and he hesitates before resting his head on my shoulder, still whining. “Goddamn it, Waldemar,” he breathes, voice tight and breathless. “Make it stop.”

“The hospital has morphine,” I point out. Hopefully, the promise of good hospital-quality morphine will keep Hermann calmed down for a little while. “Lots of other painkillers too! The pain'll stop soon, I'm sure of it. But they'll only give it to you if you're good and you don't kick the doctors in the stomach. You understand?” It's a bit like bribing a child with candy, except Hermann values morphine far more than sugar.

His right hand unclenches itself from his upper arm, slowly but surely. His right arm snakes around my shoulders, and his hand reaches up my neck until his fingers are in my hair.

“It'll be fine, Hermann,” I say. “Shh. It may be a little bit of pain, but it's easily fixed, I promise.”

Wrong thing to say. I think “a little bit of pain” set him off. His fingers twist into a tight fist, grabbing a handful of my hair and making me gasp out. He twists my hair until I arch my back and try to get away from him, grimacing and gritting my teeth. Good God, I forgot how violent he could get when something like this happens, even towards his own little brother. He twists my head so that I'm staring him directly in the eyes once again, except he's glaring at me. Through gritted teeth, Hermann manages to grate out “If I have to be in pain, I'm going to make sure you're in pain as well” and punctuates the statement with a third twist that makes my eyes water.

What else can I do?

“A-alright.” I say, nodding slightly. “I'll... Just d-do what you need to!” I laugh nervously.

“You're damn right that's what I'm going to do.”