Missing Curfew

It was late when the Bob finally crept into the hotel room. Dan and Clay had fallen asleep long ago, Clay ready to give his twin an earful about missing curfew, Dan fretting about Bob not finishing his homework.

Scott lay awake in the darkness and watched Bob dress for bed. He brushed his teeth as quietly as possible, squirmed into his pajamas. The moonlight that filtered through the gaps in the curtains revealed the fresh bruises marring his torso, the silver stains of tear-tracks on his face.

Scott’s hands curled into fists. He watched Bob crawl into bed beside Clay and curl up miserably on his half of the bed. Scott listened to Bob quietly sniffle himself to sleep. Eventually, his breathing evened out, and then Scott was the only one awake.

He stared at Bob’s thin shoulders, hunched beneath the sheets, and he wanted to scream.

Instead, he whispered, barely above a breath, “I’m sorry, Bobby.” And he closed his eyes.

(164 words)