When I was about fifteen my older brother Fred went off to college. He was handicapped, paralyzed from the waist down from a weird accident when he was thirteen. He had lost consciousness and somehow fell out of a closed window three stories up. My family doesn't talk about the accident. Since then, even though he was my older brother I had a self imposed responsibility to make sure he was always taken care of. We had done everything together so when he finally left there was separation anxiety for me.
At college, Fred had gotten a dorm room to himself for the extra space for his wheelchair. The first month he would call me every weekend for the family updates and just to chat. I missed him and not having him around made things feel different but the phone calls helped.
One night sometime in the middle of the week he called late. I was the only one still not in bed and answered the phone. "Hello?"
"Brad, its Fred. Thank goodness someone answered. I'm freaking out a bit right now." He sounded very unsettled and shaky.
"What's wrong Fred?" I asked feeling a little distressed myself hearing him like that. "Should I get mom?"
"No," he said abruptly, "I don't want her to worry. Just needed to hear someone's voice from back home. Good to hear you Brad."
"What's going on Fred? You're acting really weird and kinda freakin' me out." I really was freaking out because Fred had never been one to stress out like this. I was getting worried for him with every passing second of the phone call.
"Nothing Brad. Don't worry. Its okay now. I'm feeling better." He let out a sigh of relief as if catching his own breath from a long run. "Just had a weird occurrence, you know like the one we had as kids." He was talking about the time we had camped out in a tent in the backyard when I was about eight and he was eleven I think. We were telling ghost stories when the tent began to fill up with mist and we started to have trouble breathing. We tried to unzip the flap and get out but it wouldn't open. Then we began to hear a heavy breathing from the back of the tent like from a big animal. I've only heard breathing like that when I was visiting my uncle's farm and we went up to the bulls; they snarled and huffed heavy and whatever it was in the tent with us that night it sounded just like those bulls. Fred pointed the flashlight to the back of the tent, his hands shaking uncontrollably making the batteries in the tube clatter against the plastic. Then we saw it, two gusts of steam seemingly coming out of invisible nostrils. It happened every time we heard a deep exhale from some invisible creature sitting inside the tent with us. We started screaming and crying hysterically for our dad and finally he came out and opened the front flap and took us out. We never shared the whole story with my parent's just told them we had gotten frightened of the dark. It was just something Fred and I shared.
"What happened Fred?" I said worried. Nothing like this had happened to us since Fred's accident.
"I don't know if I should say, I think I've said too much already. I can tell you're worried." His voice had distress laced within it. I couldn't help but start to feel scared for Fred.
"Well, you have to tell me now. If you don't that's worse than knowing, sitting here in the dark thinking about what could of happened. Don't be an asshole, tell me."
"Okay, okay. You're right. This happened just a few moments before I called you. I was about to go to sleep when my room started filling with mist like that night when we were kids, remember? Anyway, it got really cold and I could see a blanket of soft mist forming on the floor. That's when I heard it again Brad, that heavy breathing. You remember right? It was in my room again whatever it was. I freaked out and got myself in my wheelchair and tried to leave the room but the door wouldn't open. I kept tugging and tugging but the knob wouldn't turn and the door just stayed shut." His words at this point were completely soaked in fear and trembling. He was still scared. He paused and stayed silent for a few moments before I said anything.
"Then what happened Fred? Did it go away?"
"...yes, it just disappeared and the mist vanished. I opened the door and came down here to the lobby, that's where I am right now calling you. I needed to hear someone's voice from back home."
A few weeks passed after that phone call and I didn't tell my parents about what happened with Fred. Maybe I regret that now because of what happened. Perhaps, anything said would be in vain anyway. I need to not carry those types of weights on my shoulders now. He had asked me to keep it between us anyway, so I did. But then Fred stopped calling. We hadn't heard anything from him in a few weeks and figured he was busy with school.
Then one night I had a bizarre dream of a bull with glowing red eyes staring at me in a field dripping blood from its horns. It kept snarling and stomping its hoof into the ground as if ready to charge at me but instead turned and walked away. Then, behind it I saw an overturned wheelchair with Fred lying beside it. He was gored through his stomach. After that I wake up in a cold sweat.
The next day I had planned on calling Fred myself but instead came home with the phone ringing and I answered it. It was Fred.
"Brad...is that you?" he said slowly like he was ill.
"Fred!" I said excitedly because it had been so long since I heard from him. "What have you been doing? School getting busy, can't call your brother anymore?"
"I'm...I'm tired Brad." he said in a low raspy voice. He didn't sound normal and there was some static interference when he talked.
"I bet you are, probably partying, I mean studying hard."
"Where...am I Brad?" he really sounded confused and worried. I could hear the hint of fear and disillusion in his voice. Something was wrong but I kept trying to keep the conversation light.
"What do you mean? You're at college dumbass. How am I supposed to know where you are?" I didn't want him to know I was worried to hear him like that.
"They're...hurting me Brad," his voice was the saddest I had ever heard it before. It was sad, scared and confused all at the same time. I got scared as well.
"Who is Fred? Who's hurting you?" A bit of anger was welling up in my voice because I had always tried to take care of my older brother.
"It's dark...and cold. I...I don't know where I am...Brad...I'm scared."
Then the phone hung up. I tried calling back but no answer just ringing and ringing. I told my mom what happened and we called the Resident Assistant to go check up on him since he wasn't answering his phone. The R.A. called back telling us he couldn't get into the room because something was behind the door barring it from being opened.
We found out later Fred had barricaded himself in his room and had been dead for a week before the phone call. He committed suicide in his room. No one really believes I had the phone call with Fred because the doctors know the time of death. They say I just made it up or it was a dream. I'm beginning to try and convince myself it didn't happen either these days because of what it could mean. I love my brother and I failed to watch out for him. Deep in my bones I feel the horrifying truth but I keep telling myself there was nothing I could do. I just hope and wish and pray he is heaven.
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