Nightmare on Third Street - Chapter One

"What happens next?" he asked me in that quiet, childlike voice of his. His voice was so innocent, so pure and angelic. I held him a little more closely as we huddled together in the living room of the small two-bedroom house on Third Street. The fire was glowing brightly as the flames licked at the wood in the fireplace, shedding warmth into the room while the storm raged on outside. It had been raining for almost two days now, and Dominic was getting sick of the rain, of the thunder and lightning. I was sick of it as well, but didn't pay it as much mind as Dominic did. At the age of nine, his terror was understandable. He was getting better, though.

"Well," I said in a comforting voice as I pulled the cover up around us a little more. "We can play a game, or you can get on the computer, we could...you need a bath, little man." I made a gesture of mock disgust as I whiffed at the air. "You stink."

He giggled. "But I don't want to take a bath," he whined, looking up at me with his big, green eyes full of wonder. We looked much the same, me and him. We both had the same sandy hair, except his was curly because of his young age, while mine was styled for school. He also had Dad's green eyes, while I had Mom's blue-gray eyes. I was seventeen, getting ready to graduate from highschool. He was my little brother, and out parents were out, so I was watching him at my place until they got back to pick him up.

Who knew when that would be, though. They had gone out for a date at a fancy restaurant at the town over, and then would probably head over to a bar for a 'few' drinks and wind up getting wasted, leaving me with Dominic for the night until they felt like picking him up tomorrow. If they did that, they probably would just leave him with me until Monday when they got off of work.

I didn't mind, though, because they deserved a little time to themselves every once in a while. Tonight was Saturday; they were both off tomorrow, so I could see them both getting wasted and having bad hangovers tomorrow. I would have liked to have gone out with my friends tonight, or at least tomorrow, but if I get left with Dominic, that wouldn't be happening. It was a good thing we were off Monday for some sort of meeting the teachers all have to go to, because otherwise I'd be screwed.

My parents generally didn't mean harm, but at times they liked to have fun and do the 'lovey dovey' thing that parents do, and I usually didn't like being around to see it. Dominic didn't either, and I didn't blame him.

"C'mon, time for a bath," I said, picking him up before I put him down, off of me as I stood up, the cover dropping to the floor around my legs. I stepped over it led him through to the bathroom. My house wasn't very big; just one-story. The rooms were small, the bathroom even smaller. I thought the biggest room in the house was the kitchen, but I wasn't sure. I hadn't really taken a measuring tape to measure it; I wasn't that specific, though I knew some were.

Dominic skipped into the bathroom, and I shook my head at his energy. When I had been that age, I had been energetic, too, but now that I was older that energy was channeled into my school work and sports, among other things.

I grabbed his bag before I entered the bathroom, as it was sitting just outside the door, and closed the door behind me. I placed the bag on the closed toilet lid and unzipped it, digging through its contents. "Um...Dominic?" I asked.

"Yes?" he asked innocently.

"Why do you have a duct tape in here?"

"Because I wanted to play!" he said, nearly jumping with the excitement that was in his statement. I sighed, inwardly groaning.

A game that he liked to play was 'tie big brother up and see if he can get away'. He loved to tie me up, tape my mouth, and throw me in the closet. He'd act like he was a bad guy, toss me around, hit me a few times--though his hits weren't hard at all, and if they became hard, I'd glare at him and make him stop--give me a few of those bad guy lines and then throw me in the closet, or into the bathtub, chair, whatever he was in the mood for.

I always humored him and played his little game, which consequently didn't have a name that I knew about, and waited it out. Usually, though, he didn't get bored with it, and wouldn't stop until I said that I had had enough and wanted to just relax. I can understand this game, though; as a kid, he watched those movies where the bad guy ties the hero up and throws him somewhere, therefore he wanted to do it too, to his big brother.

I had asked him why he always insisted on doing it to me and not to Dad or Mom or someone, and his answer was:

"You're my hero, that's why."

He had said it so innocently at the time. I knew he had meant it; he had been six, he hadn't had the time to lie, what with the running around and eating and all that great stuff that six-year-olds did. To this day, his answer is still the same, though at times he tries to hide it.

I understand why he tries to hide it, because when you get older, you hate telling people how you feel. I remembered when I was little and used to tell my parents that I loved them for no reason at all, I would just randomly say it. Now, though, I only say it if they say it first, but I make sure I call a lot and talk, which usually lets them know I'm thinking about them.

"Fine," I sighed. "After your bath, though."

He nodded rapidly.

'Hopefully it's a long bath,' I thought to myself, inwardly moaning in dread. I turned on the water, got it warm, and plugged up the drain. He was still little; he preferred baths over showers, which I knew would most likely change as he got older. I still liked baths for when I was cold and/or didn't feel good, but showers were faster and you didn't get as hot.

"You gonna be okay in here?" I asked, edging toward the door.

He nodded, pulling off his underwear. "Yeah. Be out in a few."

I sighed again, for I knew he would. "Okay, but don't forget to wash your neck. It's filthy. Scrub your face while you're at it."

He nodded and I ducked out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

I began making my way down the hallway, headed toward the kitchen. Opening the fridge, I grabbed a Cola and opened it, the contents fizzing as I took a long guzzle of it. The phone started ringing, and I moved toward the wall, where it was hanging, and plucked it up, bringing it to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Bryan," came my mother's voice. "How's Dominic doing?"

"He's doin' okay," I answered. "He's takin' a bath right now."

"That's good. Look, honey, I know it's a lot to ask, but can you keep him for tonight? Please? Your father and I want a little 'along' time, if you know what I mean."

I gagged. "Mom, please, that's too much information. And no, I don't mind keeping him for tonight. Have your time."

"Oh, thanks, sweetie. I love you," she said.

"I love you too, Mom," I said.

"I have to go now, but thank you so much."

"No problem."

"Okay, thanks again. Bye, honey." she hung up.

I sighed and hung up as well, taking another gulp of my Cola. I sat down at the kitchen table, flipping through a magazine that was there. I wasn't sure why it was there; it was Kim's, after all. Kim was my current girlfriend, we'd been dating for three months. Things were looking good, so far anyway.

A few minutes later, after I'd tired of the boring magazine and tossed it aside, mindlessly fingering my Cola, I heard footsteps announce the arrival of my little brother. Dominic breezed into the room, a tan T-shirt on and a pair of blue jean shorts. His hair was combed back, away from his eyes. He always told me that he hated having hair in his eyes, which was why he was letting it grow out, so he would never have that problem again. I never tried to dissuade him of the idea, for I, too, had hair they went behind my ears, if only just. I also hated it in my eyes.

"Can we play now?" he asked immediately. "Please?"

I sighed. "I guess," I said.

"Yippee!" he cried, and ran out of the room, presumably to get the tape. I groaned and got to my feet, pushing my chair in just as he darted back into the room, the tape in hand. "Got the rope?" he questioned.

I sighed and gestured at the closet. "In there," I said.

He nodded and breezed over to the door, pulling it open. A second later, he was back in front of me, the rope in hand. I sighed heavily.

"Where at this time?" I questioned.

He looked around, concentrating. "Hmm," he said. "Chair?"

I shrugged. "Whatever floats your boat, kid." I sat back down on the wooden kitchen chair. He walked behind me.

My hands were forced behind the chair. It put a slight strain on my arms, but I ignored it for the time being. Maybe I should get him into Boy Scouts, where he could tie whatever he wanted, and learn how to make excellent knots. But then again, he was getting good at tying knots.

Some wondered why I let him do this. He was my little brother, what did they want me to do? Say no? He was still learning, he was only nine. I was sure I was just as bad when I was his age, and I was almost certain that Dad put up with it, so why shouldn't I put up with Dominic? He was family. I loved him.

The rope was rough against the skin of my wrists. I had to hand it to the kid, he could tie a knot firmly. Once my hands were tied, he grabbed another length of rope--there were three--and put it over my chest, securing my arms to the back of the chair. He pulled it tightly, asked if it was too tight, and then tied it when I said it was okay.

Next came the tape. He pulled a length of the duct tape of and put it on my mouth, not too hard, though, and then stepped back. For once, my ankles were left alone.

He giggled and ran out of the room, shouting, "Get out of it and come find me!"

I groaned inwardly. That meant there was more. So, I slowly fingered the knots around my wrists, feeling around until I found the spot I had to pull at. Once my hands were free, I rubbed them and slid them around to the front of the chair, the rope around my chest rubbing against my arms. I slid the rop on my chest off of me and pulled off the tape, wincing when it pulled at my skin. I got to my feet and went in search of my little brother.

I found him soon enough, hidding under the bed in my room. He laughed and tackled me when I spotted him, knocking me flat on the floor, as I'd been propped up on my elbows when I had glanced under the bed. I scowled and grabbed him, pulling him close as I took to tickling his ribs.

He laughed and giggled and squirmed, trying to get away. He finally managed to, and I puffed out a laugh and got to my feet, brushing my clothes straight, trying to get the wrinkled out.

"You got free," he said.

I nodded. "Yup. Good knots, though. They're getting harder." It was true, too.

He smiled. "Again?" he asked.

I sighed. "Can we eat first?"

He nodded, grinning. "I want pizza!"

I sighed and reached for the phone on my bedside table, dialing in the the number for Pizza Hut. Dominic frowned toward the window. I followed his gaze, but found nothing of interest.

"What are you looking at?" I asked while I was put on hold.

He frowned again. "I thought I saw something."

I looked again. "I don't see anything."

He shrugged. "Probably nothing, then."

I nodded and began speaking into the phone as someone picked it up, taking me off hold.