It was just past 11 o'clock at night when Alex awoke to a heavy thud.

At first, he ignored it and tried to fall back asleep. That is, until he heard the gagging, spitting noises.

He'd stopped believing in monsters a long time ago. But now, he was beginning to second-guess himself.

Then it dawned on him.

Tonight had been the first night his three-year-old brother Joshua slept in the same bedroom as him. He'd graduated from crib to bottom bunk, and now, he was in close, convenient proximity with whatever monster was lurking about the room.

With a deep, shaky breath, Alex lifted his pillow and slowly retrieved his father's military flashlight, the only gift he'd received for his twelvth birthday a few months back. He flicked it on and leaned over the side of the top bunk. His hands shaky and his heart pounding, he cast the light toward the bottom bunk and...

Little Joshua was lying face down on the floor, jittering, convulsing, and making those distressing gagging noises.

Panic rose to Alex's chest. What was happening to his brother?

The door slammed open suddenly, and Alex jumped.

"What have you done?" His father demanded up at him. Alex desperately wanted to cry and promise that he hadn't done anything, but his voice got caught in his throat.

"Lil," Adam said to his wife, who'd been standing beside him in a somber silence, "take that one downstairs while I take care of Josh, and make damn sure he doesn't screw anything else up."

Alex frantically climbed down the ladder and followed his mother out of the room, paying his convulsing brother one last scared glance.

He followed her downstairs quietly and carefully. She made her way into the living room and sat in her rocking chair facing the window with her hands folded gingerly in her lap.

But Alex just stopped in the doorway.

Was his mother angry with him too?

Suddenly, she turned to him and waved him over.

With slight hesitation, he tip-toed over and knelt down next to her chair.

He found his voice again, and told her what had gotten stuck earlier. "Mom, I didn't do anything to him, I swear. I just heard a loud noise and-"

"It was a seizure, Alex. Your brother had a seizure."

Alex blinked. "...A seizure?"

Lilian nodded without looking at him. "He's been having them since he was a baby. You were just never around to see them." She turned her head and looked him straight in the eye. "It's not your fault."

Then she reached up and brushed his hair back before cupping one of his cheeks in her hand.

The gesture was soft and gracious, it made Alex's stomach feel warm. These touches were so few and far in between.

They were one of the rare moments when his father wasn't around, and she'd offer a small, fleeting dose of affection. Like the seldom-occuring times she'd kiss him good night, or at the dinner table when his father shouted at him and stormed out of the room, she'd reach over and touch his hand.

Again, those gestures were few and far in between. But each time, they filled him with warmth and security- a wonderful feeling he wasn't quite accustomed to.

Now, tonight, he stayed very still, in fear that if he moved or leaned further into her touch, she'd pull away suddenly, as if deciding in a split-second that he wasn't worthy of her affection.

He stayed very still, not knowing the next time he'd ever feel so warm again.