“Florian, what are you doing here?” he says with a little panic in his voice and fear in his eyes as he looks around the freezer. “You can’t be here.”
“But I came to see you, little brother.”
I force a smile. I hate treating him like a fucking baby, but he’s high out of his mind. He doesn’t know up from down right now, so he has no fucking clue he’s in my warehouse. It’s not the best time to give him my hardened attitude.
“Do you know where you are right now?” I ask, even though I know he doesn’t.
“I’m at home.” He looks at me with confusion. “But why are you here? You know Dad’s going to lose his fucking shit if he finds you here.” His breathing picks up as panic sets in even more. “You got to get out of here, Florian! He can’t find you here. He’ll kill you.”
He’s more worried about what our father will do to me if he finds me here than being high out of his mind.
“Didrick, calm down.” I place my hand on his arm, careful to avoid his track marks. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle our father. Everything’s going to be fine. I want you to come with me.”
“You think that’s such a good idea?” Alrick asks. “You need to meet with Arabelle soon.”
I glare at him over my shoulder. He holds up his hands.
“I didn’t forget, Alrick. But I need to take care of this first. He’s high out of his goddamn mind, and he’s been living on the fucking streets.”
I shift my attention back to my brother and gently lift him onto his feet, which are barely covered by shoes with gaping holes in them. His pants and shirt also have holes in various places.
The foul odor wafting from him is almost too much to handle, but I force myself to ignore it. He’s my damn family.
“Come on, Didrick,” I say as I escort him toward the door. “Let me get you out of here.” I turn my attention to Alrick. “Have Daniel pull the car around back.”
“Ja, Odjur.” Yes, Beast.
As Alrick leaves, my little brother grabs onto my hand, seeking comfort and reassurance. I feel like a piece of shit for not making sure he was all right. Even though we don’t have the best relationship, it’s up to me to prevent him from becoming something I know he loathes. He dislikes being an addict. He dislikes being a burden to me, which I understand. However, burden or not, he’s my blood.
“Where are we going?” Didrick asks, his frail body shaking in my arms. “I have nowhere to go.”
I continue to ignore the sour odor coming from his body and his breath, bearing the majority of his body weight as we make our way toward the back of the warehouse. He’s dropped so much weight. He’s always been a lanky kid, but now, he’s as light as a feather. I’d be shocked if he weighed over eighty pounds.
“He said I’m a disappointment, and I’m no longer his son. He doesn’t want me at the house anymore, Florian.”
It’s hard to ignore the pain in his voice. Despite how I feel about our father, Didrick and my other brothers actually care for him, even though he doesn’t give a shit about them.
“Then you can come home with me.”
It’s not the best idea, especially now that I have Arabelle. But he’s my brother. I can’t turn my back on him.
As I help Didrick get clean, I can’t shake the heavy burden of guilt. How did I let this happen to him? He’s nothing but bones covered in filth.
Didrick, being underage, still has a lot of growing up to do. It’s not his fault our father is a piece of shit, and his mother is the typical wife of a mobster. She keeps her mouth closed so she doesn’t face his wrath, no matter if her children face the consequences of her silence.
Yes, I helped Didrick once, getting him into the best rehab in the US, but I failed to stay in his life. I failed to make sure he stayed clean. If I had stayed around, or at the very least given him a job to keep him occupied and away from our father, he wouldn’t have found himself in the same position as before. Right now, he would be clean and living a new life, not living on the streets in filth.
I know how our father is. If he sees anyone excelling above him, he sucks the life from them. That’s what he did to me when I was younger. That’s what he did to my mother, and now, he’s done it to Didrick.
“Florian, you don’t have to help me,” he slurs as I pour shampoo onto his matted, shoulder-length hair. “I’m not a goddamn baby. I can wash myself.”
He’s still coming down from whatever he’s on. He barely removed his soiled clothes before getting into the shower. There’s no way he can clean himself properly, sitting on the shower bench as I watch the dirt from his hair and body swirl down the drain.
Do I want to give my brother a shower? Fuck no. But the condition he’s in, there’s no way he can do it himself, so I ignore his outburst.
“I know you’re not a baby, Didrick, but I want to help, okay? Let me help you.”
He sighs but nods. I returned to trying to clean the dirt from his soiled hair.
