I don't know what it was - the lights of the paramedics, the noise and the commotion - but my brother knew something happened and rushed outside.

"What happened? What have you done?" He approached me.

I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. I just stared at him through my cloudy haze. One of the officers escorted me to the hospital. I felt like I was floating. Brother met us there.

"We're having a problem with a shortage of doctors tonight," I heard somebody say. "Many of them are off with the flu epidemic that's going around at the moment."

I sat and stared at the wall opposite, trying to make sense of the situation. She's dead!

"Are you the next of kin?" A doctor asked.

"I'm her son," Brother rose up.

"Me too," I mumbled, still feeling spaced out.

"I'm sorry to have to say this, but your mother was pronounced dead on arrival. At the moment we're carrying some tests out to see if we can determine the cause of death. Have either of you any idea of her medical history?"

Brother flopped back down to his seat upon hearing the news.

"She was a patient here, it should all be on file," I slurred. Or at least I thought I did - I might have just thought I said it.

The hours passed. The new day had begun. The sun barely shone as if to illustrate the results of the night's activities. However, a copious amount of snow had fallen and everything was white.

The time passed, but for me everything stood still. I sat there, dumbfounded, in shock, tired.

I don't know if Brother left and returned, but along with him I noticed Sister. She came and hugged me with tears in her eyes. She looked sincere. I couldn't even cry.

"Did they say what happened? How she died?" Sister asked.

"I killed her," I confessed, not realising that the doctor was coming to speak with us.

"What? How did you kill her?" Sister asked.

I turned to look at her and noticed that brother was about to pounce. But the doctor interrupted

"You know that if we discover any signs that indicate foul play, you could be arrested?" He informed me.

"I don't care, I deserve it," I muttered.

"I've been informed that her specialist is in this morning He's going to meet with us to tell me more about her medical history," the doctor told us.

People came, people left. Time stood still for me.

At some point, the doctor, along with another - her specialist - approached us.

"These are the deceased's children," the doctor introduced us. I turned around to see the specialist whom I'd seen on previous occasions when I'd been to the hospital with mother.

"I'm Dr Finnegan, my deepest sympathies," he said. "I know you. I've seen you with your late mother around here a few times, correct?" He was referring to me. I nodded.

"As I told the doctor here, I'd been treating your late mother for several years. The last time I saw her, I prescribed some more modern, more potent medication for her blood pressure as the previous medication resulted in side affects that were straining her renal system. From what the early tests have concluded, it appears that she overdosed on her medication."

"Couldn't she have been saved?" Brother asked him, staring hard at me.

"That's a possibility, had she been caught in time. We calculate that she took the pills at approximately 10pm and she wasn't found until close to 2am, right?"

I nodded.

"Two in the morning? Where were you until that hour?" Brother brutally verbally attacked me.

I didn't reply, instead:

"But Mother wouldn't have overdosed, it's impossible. I told her about the tablets and she knew what she was doing."

"We didn't imply that it was a case of suicide, rather an accidental overdose," the doctor pointed out. "My hypothesis is that she must have been having a severe panic attack. She took a pill and it didn't so anything. They're sustained release capsules, you see. So she probably took a few more which resulted in this tragic circumstance. And at this stage I think I can probably say we've ruled out foul play."

"Panic attack?" Brother was enraged, turning to me. "Of course, with you being out all night!" I could see the fury building up in his eyes and was glad that there were others around so he wouldn't punch me up.

But... that wouldn't be such a bad idea. I didn't care any more. Not at all.

At some point, they left the hospital. I sat there. Alone. Pondering. Thinking. Thinking of nothing - my mind was empty and no thoughts could fill it. No memories.

They asked if I wanted to see Mother. I was escorted into the morgue where her lifeless shell lay still. It was upset, I was broken, but I couldn't make myself feel anything.

Time passed. It could have been a couple of hours or a couple of days. I don't know.

I had to leave, somebody said. They gave me another pill and a prescription for some more after that.

I walked and walked and walked.

It was dark outside. I didn't care. I had nobody. I had nothing.
 
 

The lights were still on in the house, just as we'd left them.

The house was cold. No more could I come to a house warm with mother sitting by the heater or knitting in front of the TV.

Sleep. Sleep.

I was tired. No, I was exhausted, not having slept in such a long time. I took one of the blue pills and was out as soon as my head hit the pillow.
 
 

The days that followed are a blur. I'd wake in the middle of the night, thinking I heard mother get up to visit the bathroom. Then I'd remember that it was absurd and it wouldn't happen ever again. I'd have a lump in my throat. I'd feel cold. I'd feel alone.

Other times I'd wake, thinking there was somebody at my door. Or I'd feel that somebody was touching me, massaging me to warm my frigid body. I'd wake up with a start upon seeing a face. Was it mother or was it Caleb? I can never be too sure.

Day and night melded. Some days were so gloomy that I'd think it was still night. Other nights would be clear and frosty and the light of the moon would deceive me into thinking morning had broken. I recall David coming around quite a lot. I went out to the pharmacy with him and got some more pink and blue pills.

David forced me to eat at least a couple of meals a day.

When he wasn't around, I was in a daze. I'd sit and stare at the nothingness on the walls, a bit like the nothingness in my life. There was an abundance of nothing left for me.

It was all my fault. It was all my frigging fault. Had I not gone to the whorehouse that night, mother would still be here now. We'd be sitting around the heater. She'd be telling me tales about her childhood. We'd laugh, eat popcorn, watch TV.

Everything changed in an instant. Now the TV's never on - even the heater's never on. I just sit and cover myself in the throwover rug mother crocheted for me a while back. At least I still have something.

The phone would ring, but I never bothered answering it. The first while, it would ring many times, afterwards it would be less often. I didn't care any more.

"You've got to get yourself ready," David told me, one morning.

I just stared at him in a haze.

"Grandma's funeral is on today. Go and at least have a shower. You reek."

The funeral. I didn't even think of organising that. It was probably Sister's doing.

I went into the bathroom and got a shock looking into the mirror. The stubbly ratty haired guy with dark patches under his eyes wasn't me, was it?

A quick shower made me feel almost human again. I had a bite to eat, another pink pill and went off to the funeral.

The service was nice, I'm told. Mother would have approved. It was in her regular church and many of her church friends were there. I was there but was so out of it that I felt it was nothing but another spaced out dream. The dreams I'd had with the blue pills were as intense as this reality. Dreams of the walls closing in, feeling claustrophobic.

At the burial, I noticed that there were lots of people I never even knew. I imagine mother was more popular that I - or she, for that matter - imagined. Strangers kept coming up to me, offering me their condolences. I just smiled gently and thanked them, not looking at them directly in the eyes.

As the ceremony drew to a close and the crowd dispersed, Brother cornered me.

"You are responsible for this, you know. I hope you're satisfied," he grunted.

I didn't say anything. I didn't have anything to say. I just stared at him. Wondering whatever happened to the good-natured brother I once had.

"If you did this for the house, you're more of a bastard that I imagined."

What was he talking about? I felt too tired to ask him to clarify himself.

"That house is not yours and never will be yours," he continued. "I'm sure that father will never allow that, especially once he finds out that you're responsible for mother's death."

This had alarm bells going off in my head, to say the least. Of course, I never even thought of the house, but if they were planning on throwing me out... what then? Mother always said that she wanted me to have the house, but I don't know if she ever made a will. Still, if truth be told, I don't deserve it. Not at all.

Back home, I noticed that the house had a particularly nasty stench so I opened some windows to let some air in.

As I was about to pop another pill, I heard the familiar whirring sound of a car engine.

Suddenly, it struck me: It wasn't my fault that mother died! It's my brother Mick - had it not been for him and his car pollution, we wouldn't have had the row in the first place and I wouldn't have stormed off.

I felt my blood boil so I ran over next door and confronted my sibling.

"Hey, you're wrong you know," I stated angrily.

He looked up from under the hood of the car on which he was working.

"Who said you could come here? I don't want to see you. I never want to see you again. In fact, if I were you, I'd be packing me bags right now because when father returns, he won't be in an understanding mood," he blurted.

"It's not my fault mother died. It's yours!" I had a surge of energy and confidence.

"What are you talking about? Have you lost your mind with all the pills you're on? Oh, I know all about those..." was Mick implying that I have a problem?

"There's nothing wrong with me - it's you. Mother and I had a row about you the day she died. If you were more considerate, she would still be here."

"What are you going on about? If you have something to say, say it!" He was annoyed at me accusation.

"How many times has mother come over here to tell you that your car fumes all end up in our house?" He looked down silently. "Too many, I think."

"What about it? Just because you're too chicken to come and stand up to me."

"If you remember, you were up to your old tricks on that day. That's why mother and I had a row in the first place and I stormed off. It's all your fault. You are the reason she's dead, not me," I asserted.

"That's rubbish. You're crazy," he tried to cover his tracks, but I knew I was right.

"OK, if I'm the crazy one, I suppose I'd better go and call the pollution police and get them to come down here. They'll shut you down at the drop of a hat and then we'll see who'll be moving."

That shut him up. I briskly turned around and walked back home.

I did it. I faced him. For the first time in my life, I had the guts to face him - and I won.

Later that afternoon, David came over. The thought crossed my mind that his father sent him over to spy on me, but I'd known David for so many years and realised that loyalty towards me is one of his major traits.

"I heard you had a confrontation with father earlier," he said.

"Oh, who told you?" I asked.

"I was in the house. I heard every word!"

I smiled. Smiled. I felt like hadn't smiled in such a long time and had forgotten how to.

"You're not going to have him shut down, are you?" He asked with a concerned look on his face.

"Why?"

"Because then we'd have to move away."

"Did he put you up to this? Did he ask you to come here and speak to me?"

"No, he doesn't like me coming here at the best of times. I have to sneak out and say that I'm off to the library," he informed me. "So, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know. Your father said some very nasty things to me. Besides, the way things are going, I'll be moving soon anyway, so I'll have nothing to lose," I told him.

"You won't be going anywhere," David told me.

"How do you know?"

"I know that my father gets in a huff when he's upset and says a lot of trash. I also know that grandpa won't throw you out because... he can't cook and stuff."

That's a valid point. But sharing a house with my father didn't sound like fun at all. At least I didn't have to worry about that for the present, as he's on the other side of the globe.

"Did you eat yet?" David asked.

"No, I'm going to have eggs on toast tonight. Would you care to join me?"

"Nah, I'd better be getting back before they realise that I'm over here..."

David got up and left. Well, at least in life I still have David.

A couple of minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Probably David forgot something, I thought.

"What did you forget this time?" I said as I opened the door.

But on the other side wasn't David. It was Caleb.

I was certain my eyes were deceiving me. Caleb? I had to rub my eyes.

"Can I come in, please?" He pleaded, sounding desperate. "You're the only one I can count on."

He looked different. This wasn't the cheery Caleb I knew and loved. It was like he'd just come home from the war shell shocked.

"Sure, come in. I'm about to cook eggs on toast, would you like some?" I offered.

"That would be splendid. I haven't had a decent meal in a while," he said.

We sat at the table for dinner silently. He scoffed down the food like he'd not eaten in weeks. I made a few extra servings and he thanked my generosity.

After dinner, he became a bit more lively. A good meal - well, any meal - has such an effect, if you're staving.

We went to sit in the family room.

"What's with the heating?" He rubbed his hands together.

I remembered that the heater wasn't on, so promptly got it going as Caleb sat by the heater, warming himself up.

"Where have you been?" I asked. "I looked for you everywhere. I was so worried for you."

"You were worried? Really?" He seemed touched.

I nodded.

"I went to the Munch a few times and by your place a couple of times. It was like you had vanished."

"Yeah," he lowered his head. "I had to. I didn't mean to, but I felt like my life was in danger."

"Why? What is it? Can I help you at all?"

"You know all the murders that have been happening around the place over recent months?" I nodded. "Well, I think I'm the next one on the list."

"What?" I stared at him, confused yet concerned.

"It's a long story. You see, a few months back, I was doing some work and I met this guy..." he seemed frightened to tell me.

"Go on... what job and what guy?"

"Well... I don't want to freak you out..."

"Don't worry about that - right about now, nothing can freak me out."

"I was going some escort work. I'm not gay or anything, but when I'm hard up for cash, I walk the streets and let some guys suck me off some." He seemed embarrassed about this detail.

I was enthralled. Caleb's done it with other guys! Well, perhaps there was hope for me yet...

"Anyway," he continued. "I met this old guy I'd never seen before. He took me back to his place and after the date told me that he only had a few months to live. He said that he had some savings in a small box he wanted me to have once he was gone, but he said that he had a list of some other people he wanted to share the loot."

"Why didn't he make out a will?" I asked.

"Apparently, he was influential or a diplomat or something and didn't want his name smeared. Perhaps he was married too - I didn't ask."

"And?"

"And, he put my name on the bottom of the list. I looked at that list and everybody on the list is now dead - except for me. That's why I had to leave."

Goodness. Either the pills I've been taking had killed so many brain cells that I was imagining all this, or... this is all just too incredible.

"What can I do to help you?"

"Well, I know I shouldn't ask... but I was wondering if it was OK if I could stay here for a couple of days. After that, I've organised to go to a friend's cabin in the mountains for a while."

"Of course you can stay," I left excited. I felt me heart beating for the first time in ages. I began to feel alive again.

"Really?" He smiled. "Err... don't you have to ask your mother?"

"Mother?" I felt a lump in my throat. "Mother died a few days ago. We had her funeral today," I quivered.

My eyes filled with tears, but were imprisoned and wouldn't break loose.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I had no idea." Caleb seemed truly saddened. He even gave me a hug.

Caleb hugged me. Now, surely I've lost it...

I was feeling happy and warm in his embrace. It was like a dream come true.

You fuck wit Milt, thinking about fucking a guy when your mother's grave is still warm, a voice inside me was warning.

Caleb went to have a shower. The first in over a week, he claimed.

I jumped on the computer and wrote. I wrote as well as I could write. Not caring how much others hated it and not caring if nobody else ever read it.

"What are you writing?" Caleb startled me as he walked in wearing my bathrobe.

"Just a story," I said.

"Oh? What kind of story?"

"The story of my life."

"So, I'm in it?"

"You think you're important enough to be in my story?"

He shrugged. "Is this like your diary?"

I nodded. "It's cold in here. You go in to the heater. I'll finish up and join you."

The sight of a semi naked Caleb in my house made my heart flutter. I went into the family room where he was warming himself by the heater.

"I've got a small electric heater in my room. I'll get it going so it'll be nice and warm for you, OK?"

He nodded.

"Can you do some washing in the morning? I didn't bring a change of clothes and don't have any more underwear," he blushed. How sweet.

"Yes, no problem," I sat down beside him.

"So," he continued. "This story of yours. Is it full of sex?"

"Maybe..."

"So it's full of you and your girlfriend Natasha making out?"

I smiled.

Perhaps now is the time I tell him the truth. It couldn't hurt and he wouldn't be able to reject me if he depended on me for food and shelter.

"It's snowing again, I think," I peered out the window.

"You're changing the subject..."

"Am I? Well, do you really want to know? I mean, I don't want to freak you out or anything..."

"Very funny," he faked a smile.

"OK, I'll tell you," he sat beside me. I thought this would make it more difficult but this was the moment I'd been waiting for for so many weeks.

"Go on, I'm all ears..."

"I'm not into girls, I prefer boys," I stated frankly without battering an eyelid. Surprising myself even.

"Oh, so the sex is all you and me, then?" He asked coyly.

"Errr... we haven't done anything like that, have we?"

"No, besides, I'm not gay," he reaffirmed, crushing my dream of ever getting with him. I looked away. I felt uncomfortable facing him. It was as if I was naked in front of him and I was worried that he'd point at my cock and laugh at it.

Caleb noticed that I was crushed. But it was more than that. I began thinking and realising that mother was gone forever and that I hadn't had a pink pill since the morning so it had completely worn off. I was beginning to feel again, and the way I was feeling wasn't particularly great.

"What's wrong? I'm sure there are plenty of great guys out there for you. Much better than me," Caleb informed me.

I couldn't help myself. A feeling of utter isolation and rejection came over me. It was like I'd just taken a look within myself and saw raw nothingness within.

"OK," Caleb sighed. "Come on, let's do it."

I looked up at him. What did he just say?

"Let's fuck. I know you want to," he repeated.

I stared at him. I didn't know what to make of his offer.

"We can do it in here if you like," he sounded sincere, but...

"No!" I was firm.

"Why not?" He was perplexed by my rejection.

"Because it's not what you want. You'd only be doing it out of pity for me. I don't want your pity. I want your love. If I can't have that then I was nothing."

"Oh..." he looked confused.

"All my life, things have fallen into place by other people interfering or by default or by Fate. Whenever I've tried to do something on my own, I always seem to fuck up. I don't want to do that again," I explained.

"I understand," he said. I wasn't too convinced he understood as he still had the same confused look on his face, anyway...

"But," I told him, "I would like another hug, if I may. I just fell so... so... alone right now..." At least that wasn't a lie.

"Sure," he complied.

We both stood up and had a very squishy hug. The type where his whole body is squashed right into mine. It was one of the rare moments in my life I would describe as perfect. A moment I didn't want to pass. I stood there, eyes shut, enjoying the warmth of his body and his breath on the back on my neck.

Instinctively, my mouth reached for his and as our lips touched and passionately kissed, I opened my eyes and returned back to reality. I pulled away and sat back down.

"Hey, what did you...." He didn't get a chance to finish as the doorbell rang.

"Who could it be at this hour?" I looked at Caleb who was panicking. It rang again incessantly. "Go and hide in my room. I'm sure it's nothing - probably a wrong address or something. I'll get rid of them, just be quiet."

As Caleb was fleeing into my room, I heard the clanging of keys and the front door opening. Standing in shock, the intruder saw me before I realised who it was.

"Didn't you hear the doorbell? It's freezing out there. What kind of a way is that to welcome your father back home?"

Father! Why has he returned?

"I meant to return for the funeral, but the plane got delayed with the snow," he explained.

Caleb realised that the visitor was not a threat, so returned into the room where father was telling me about his long flight.

"Who's this?" He asked gruffly.

"It's a friend of mine, Caleb. He's staying for a few days..."

"... pleased to meet you, sir. Yes, Milt kindly offered to let me stay here as my house was flooded by the storms a few days ago." Caleb put on the charm. At least he was a quick-thinker and knew that my father wouldn't be impressed that I was having a guest without a valid excuse.

"Oh," father grunted. "Isn't that your bathrobe he's wearing, Milt?"

"Like I said, sir," Caleb explained. "All my clothes got all wet and.... washed away.."

Father grunted again. I could see he didn't approve.

"And where do you sleep, Caleb?" Father asked.

"He sleeps in my room - in my bed and I sleep on the floor," I explained.

Father grunted again.

"I'm tired, it's been a heck of a long flight and I didn't sleep much on the plane. Time for bed, ok?"

I know that when Father says it's time for bed, he means it's time for bed for all of us.

Gee.. Why did he have to show up now? I asked myself as I was organising my makeshift bedding on the floor.

"Turn around so you won't see me naked," Caleb informed. I turned around - no point in getting all worked up now. He handed me the bathrobe and slipped into bed.

"Good night," he said.

"Sweet dreams," I turned out the lights.

Unable to sleep on my makeshift bed, I tossed and turned. It was the first night I didn't take one of my blue pills for sleep.

I started to think. I ruminated. I began to reminisce. I remembered all the good times. All the times I wouldn't admit were good times back when they took place. All the times I took for granted.

I thought of all the things I could have done for Mother. I could have been such a better, more loyal son.

Even though I knew her death wasn't my fault, I started to blame myself. At night, when you can hear a pin drop, every grievance becomes a monster of turmoil.

A wave of pure morose pensiveness rode over me. I couldn't help myself. I just cried and cried and cried some more. I tried to keep as quiet as I could, but the more I tried, the less I succeed.

"What's wrong?" Caleb got out of bed to see if I was all right.

"Nothing," I looked up at him and could make out his face, his gleaming eyes shining with the little ambient light coming from the street light outside. "Everything."

I didn't want to burden him with my woes, with him having far more serious problems.

"Come on, tell me about it. You're helping me, so let's see if I can help you," he offered.

I told him that lately I'd been in a strange state. This year wasn't looking to be a good one.

First, I was worried sick when he disappeared, then Tassy moved away, and now mother. I explained how I was to blame for her death and the feud with my brother. I told him that I was worried that I'd get kicked out of the house and would have nowhere to go.

Caleb sat beside me, held my hand, offering me the reassurance I desperately required. Still, the tears flowed.

"Shhhh... It's going to be all right. Everything's going to be fine. I won't let anybody do anything to you," he hugged me.

I wanted to believe him, to trust him. But something, something deeply embedded within me was fearful of completely trusting others. It was one of the things that mother taught me from an early age - to be wary of others.

I couldn't stop crying. I shook like a leaf as Caleb took me back in his strong arms and held me tight.

"Come and sleep on the bed," he whispered in my ear, "there's enough space for the two of us."

He lifted me and placed me on the bed, and lay down beside me.

I calmed down. The sensation of being in the same bed with somebody else was something unusual for me. I put my arms around his muscle hard torso, secretly desiring to explore with my hands. My conscience however warned me against being so crass as a time like this.

In exchange for my hot breath landing on the back of his neck, I inhaled his masculine essence. How I longed for something like this to happen - but it had to happen on a night like this when I knew nothing more could happen between us.

A feeling of intense love - Caleb's unconditional love - lulled me off to sleep eventually. Even if it was nothing but a deceitful dream that would come to an end at daybreak when I'd have to face reality again.

I had the most bizarre dream. It was frightening. I saw mother.

At first, I was worried about being in bed with Caleb, thinking she came back to haunt me. Instead, she was asking me to save her. Time was running out. She was going to suffocate if I didn't save her.

I woke with a start. Caleb was still asleep beside me. I remembered mother being frightened about being buried alive - could that be what the dream was about? It shook me right up, and there was no way sleep would come to me again. Could she have been buried alive?