Red

Chapter 1

Cameron's POV
The past four years of my life have been lonely at best. Whilst I still have a close friend stuck beside me, the house is always silent when I come home. No bickering, no mum and dad telling us to shut up, no stupid pranks on each other. I was born four years after my brother, but despite the age gap, we would mostly get along, the bickering was just part of the sibling package. You couldn't have us without it.

But when I was thirteen years old, my brother my current age, things changed. And it certainly wasn't for the best.

I remember I was doing chores, cleaning the dishes; I remember getting the phone call from mum; I remember dropping the plate with a loud crash; I remember the agonising pain that pulsed through me, both from the shards of china in my foot and the news that was revealed to me.

A car crash. A complete accident. Something that couldn't be avoided. That's what everyone claimed anyway. But we had gotten into a silly little squabble that same day, and he decided to go off to his friend's house. So I couldn't help but blame myself.

That's why the house is so silent. It's the anniversary of his death but no one wants to be the first to mention it. I want to find some way to distract myself from it, but I've run out of things to do whenever this day comes.

The first time, I dyed my hair bright red, based on the time when I was younger where I did the same thing, and all my brother would call me was "Red".
The second time, I was gifted earrings from two old friends of his, and I spent the day trying to figure out how to safely pierce my own ears. I ended up messing up one ear, so I chose to pierce one ear in two different places, and now I wear one from each pair in just one ear.
The third time, I finally got onto reading the books he always wanted me to read, and I ended up finishing almost all of them in just that one day.

But this year, I don't know how to occupy my mind. So in the end, I find myself mindlessly flicking through channels on the TV, until mum finally gets me to stop. Good. At this rate, I would've been on it all day.

"Here's an idea Cam, go clean up your room. It's a mess at the moment, and your friend is coming round soon, right?" She says, sitting down on the sofa.
"Robin doesn't care if my room is a mess. They never do," I reply.
"Come on, do it for me. If you don't, I'll be forced to tidy up later."

With a slight laugh, I push myself to my feet and begin to walk out of the room. Each step feels heavy, like the time I had to drag my half passed out brother to his room after he got drunk at a party. He threw up on me that night and I didn't forgive him for a while.

"Cameron..." dad says as I step upstairs.
"Yes?"
"Are you okay?"
"Yes..."

It's a lie. I want to burst into tears, hug him tightly and beg for my brother to come back. But I can't, I won't, my tears are gone, worn out over years of crying myself to sleep, years of choking back a sob everytime I walked past his room, years of missing him.

Cleaning up my room does take my mind off of things, my melancholy replaced by irritation, as I can't just kick my things to the side. Sighing, I open a drawer with the intention of dumping some clothes in there, but what I find catches my attention. I thought this was my pyjama drawer, why is what looks like a forgotten Christmas present in here?

It's wrapping paper has snowflakes on, the same paper that wrapped around the presents from my parents only less than a month ago now. It's barely passed New Years, did someone forget about it?

As I go to rip it open, I notice a name written on it in familiar, scribbly handwriting.

Red

The nickname is enough to bring up forgotten tears, enough to make me sob for what feels like forever, tears that I thought would never return streaming down my cheeks. As I look down, the scar on my foot from the shattered plate mocks me, laughs at me for finally breaking. For shattering like it did.