Chapter 2

I ended up waking up again a half hour later. None of that dramatic amnesia stuff. No, I remembered everything. I think I would rather forget.

Turns out that the robber had managed to get a shot off before I completely brained him with the bat. The shot grazed my head and left a pretty nasty laceration, but that was it. The robber didn't get off so well. He was in intensive care in serious condition.

The paramedics wanted me to go to the hospital while my sisters were pleading to me not to go. They were scared and wanted someone to stay with them. Suddenly, Mom wasn't good enough anymore. Even though both my sisters treated me like shit, I still sided with them and pleaded with my Mom for them not to take me to the hospital. After a lot of whining from all three of us and repetitively telling her I was fine, she caved.

Of course, being fine had its drawbacks. Seeing I was healthy enough not to go to the hospital, I was healthy enough to be grilled by the police for two hours straight. They took my story several times and then asked me to write it down and sign it. Their conclusion was that what I did wasn't brave, but stupid. They said I should have called 911 and let them handle it. My Mom had to step in before I got arrested from me arguing back that my family would have been dead before they arrived.

After the cops left, my two sisters flew into my arms and wouldn't let go.

"Thank you, Scott," sobbed Whitney. "You saved our lives."

"Yeah, thank you, Scott," whispered Lindsey.

"I know what the police said, Scott," said my Mom, "but you are truly a hero."

"I don't think I can go back to sleep, Mom," whined Whitney.

"I think none of us will," said Mom, wearily. "I'll call you all in sick for school, tomorrow."

"I'm scared," said Lindsey. She was shaking like a leaf at my side. "What if someone else comes and tries to break in?"

"Lindsey, the chances..." started Mom.

"Mom, he almost killed all of us!" sobbed Lindsey. "If it weren't for Scott..."

Lindsey broke down into incomprehensible gibberish because she was crying so hard. I drew her closer to me to comfort her.

"I don't feel safe, either, Mom," said Whitney.

I chuckled when I heard that. Yeah, I know the situation was grim, but hearing it from a Goth punk that professed many times that she wanted to experience death created a little humor.

"We just can't pick up and move," said Mom, ignoring my lack of respect for Whitney.

"But what if one of his friends wants revenge?" asked Whitney. "What if the guy gets better and gets out of jail? What if... ?"

"Whitney, we're going to be all right," said Mom, soothingly.

"I'll make sure of it," I said with grim determination.

"Really?" asked Lindsey, through her tears. She looked up at me with hope in her glistening eyes.

"I would never let anything happen to any of you," I said. I was really just as terrified as they were, but I knew that I had to be the one to pull it all together. That would be what my Dad would be doing.

I nodded at her and smiled. Lindsey stopped crying and hugged me tighter.

"Scott, will you sleep in our bedroom and keep us safe?" asked Whitney.

"I... I don't think that would be..." I sputtered. There was no way I could sleep in the same room as them. First of all, I slept in a pair of boxers and nothing else. Anymore than that and I usually got hot and couldn't sleep. The other problem was that they might notice my morning hard-on. I got them every morning. Of course there were also the wet dreams. It would give Lindsey ammunition to use against me until I left for college.

"Please?" asked Lindsey, with puppy dog eyes.

"Girls," interrupted Mom. "Your brother needs his privacy."

Thank you Mom, for being on my side.

"He could sleep in my bed," said Whitney. "I can sleep on the floor in my sleeping bag."

"I... I... um... I don't think it would work," I said, trying to come up with an excuse.

"Why?" asked Whitney. "We all wear pajamas to bed. You wouldn't be seeing anything you shouldn't be. It's no big deal. Besides, we are brother and sister. Who cares?"

"I don't wear pajamas," I mumbled with a blush.

"You mean you sleep... naked?" exclaimed Whitney.

"No, silly. In my underwear."

I doubt my face could have been redder than it was at that moment. Here I was talking to my sisters about my sleeping habits and lack of clothing I wore.

"You could wear pajamas for us," said Whitney. "I just want you around so I feel safer."

I looked at my Mom for any help.

"Please, Mom," begged Lindsey, a look of terror in her eyes. "Please let him stay in our room. Just for a few nights at least. Please."

Lindsey broke down in tears again. I held her tighter and immediately felt a pang of guilt for turning her down because she was still shaking at my side.

Mom sighed. "Scott, I'm not going to make you do this, but if you could stay with your sisters and make them feel safe, I'd appreciate it."

In the months following my Dad's death, I had been asked to do many things from my Mom. I always did everything she asked, no matter how hard it was, and never complained about it. I knew that she needed me. I knew there was no backing out of this. No matter how mortified I was about the situation, I would have to do it for the family.