Scary Stories: No One’s Allowed To Look At My Brother When He Eats

I never thought it was weird. It was the same as Dad going to work every day and Mom cooking dinner every night. Just, Matty always ate upstairs.

Mom made sure everyone at the table had a full serving before she got to work on Matty’s plate. She would load it with supersized portions of whatever was for dinner plus leftovers from last night. By the time it was ready, the mountain of food would put Dad’s appetite to shame.

The night after my 8th birthday, Mom’s arms shook carrying Matty’s dinner. She teetered across the kitchen with a serving plate. The one we use for appetizers when we have guests; Three hamburgers, two chicken breasts, egg salad, at least a half dozen corn dogs, and a pile of potatoes. Squeezed next to that were pork chops, meatballs, shrimp fried rice in a Tupperware, and a full mixing bowl of Mac ‘N Cheese.

“Do you need help, honey?”

Mom shook her head, finding her balance on the stairs.

“Oh no, mama’s got it. Matty’s not feeling well today.”

“Don’t stuff him now.”

I turned to Dad.

Frankly, I was in a bad mood. Matty hadn’t wished me a happy birthday yet. In fact, he hadn’t come out of his room all day yesterday. He was two years older than me, and our sibling rivalry ran deep.

“Why does Matty need that much food, what if I’m still hungry? Why doesn’t he just come down and eat it here?”

“He’s a growing boy you know. Puberty’s hitting him. That’s a time when every kid undergoes remarkable changes. You’ll see.”

He ignored my other question, so I asked again.

Dad put his fork down.

“Your brother is self conscious. I know, we’ve told him it’s silly. But we’re respecting his decision, giving him time. And you should too. He’s your big brother but he doesn’t have one… What he’s going through can be scary.”

I crossed my arms.

“Sounds like a big baby.”

“Enough.” His voice cut through me. He spoke through his teeth. “Apologize.”

I mumbled under my breath.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry.”

Dad nodded. Mom came down a minute later and we finished our dinner in silence.

In bed, I began to plot a nasty trick.

The next day after the bus dropped me off, Mom told me she was going for groceries and to stay in the house in case Matty needed anything. I went up to his room and knocked on the door.

“Matty?”

There was no response.

“Some of my friends from school are coming over today. Do you wanna play with us?”

Again, nothing. I made a face, and started down the steps. He wasn’t making this easy.

Halfway down the stairs, there was a sound from behind his door.

“Matty?”

Something dragged a short distance before stopping. I held my breath, straining to hear more.

A few seconds passed before I hopped the rest of the way down; confused but eager for my friends to arrive.

Mom was in the kitchen preparing dinner when Hunter and Cody got dropped off. They popped out of an SUV Hunter’s mom drove and waved, running towards the house.

We played for a little in the yard while I explained my plan.

Cody looked like he couldn’t wait.

“That doesn’t sound nice…”, Hunter mumbled.

“Matty’s never nice to me! Remember my birthday party? He didn’t even go on the bouncy house!”

Cody piped up, “Yea. We’re not gonna hurt him, Hunter.”

A few more minutes was all it took to convince him. Then, dinner was ready.

Mom tiptoed around the table, dispensing slices of brisket and spoonfuls of pasta with gravy and Italian bread.

Cody and Hunter dug in immediately, in a few seconds vaporizing half their plate. I made sure to eat fast too but kept an eye on Mom. She always put a lot of care into Matty’s plate.

After she was finished, up she went. When she returned to the kitchen, there was nothing on our plates.

“Wow, you boys are hungry.”

“Not anymore,” I said patting my stomach.

“Careful,” Dad laughed. “If you eat like that you’ll get sick.”

“Hmph,” I crossed my arms and scooted off my chair. “Come on guys, lets play in my room.”

“Alright, just don’t bother Matty while he’s eating.”

We hid our smiles.

We made sure our footsteps could be heard from downstairs walking into my room and loudly closed the door. Then, tiptoeing, we crept. Out of my room, down the hallway, until we were in front of Matty’s door.

“I’m still hungry,” Cody giggled through his hands.

“SHHH.”

I knocked quietly.

“Hello? Matty?“

Silence.

“Can I come in?“

Hunter began pointing insistently, back towards my room.

I waved him off.

“Matty, it’s just me. My friends left.”

Ten seconds trudged by. Cody looked disappointed. Something hot began to well up in my chest. It wasn’t anger; maybe jealousy?

I put my hand on the doorknob.

I got As in all my classes and Mom and Dad would pat me on the head before mentioning how Matty used to get A+s. Every day at school the teachers always asked, “How’s Matty doing?”

I was the one who loved our dog, Archie. The one we had to give away because he never stopped barking at Matty’s door. He doesn’t play sports, he doesn’t have any friends, he doesn’t even go to school. He never comes out of his room! He was a good for nothing older brother.

No, it was hate. I hated Matty.

I pushed the door open.

Immediately, a vile smell hit our nose causing Hunter to gag. The curtains were drawn tight around the windows casting a gloom over the mess inside. Broken toys, shredded notebooks, overturned chairs, and even some broken glass. A cooking program for children played on a small T.V., its volume just loud enough to hear over a rickety desk fan.

“Who’s ready to welcome our guests for this episode?”

The fan could only do so much, though. Remains of food stained everything in the room. You couldn’t step anywhere to avoid the mold covering the floor. Bits of meat clung to the screen of the television, red sauce smeared the wall, and there was a large stain on the sheets of the bed.

Hunter tapped my shoulder.

“This is gross. I want to go back.”

“Your brother is nasty,” Cody proclaimed. He stepped meticulously into the room leaving Hunter and I by the door, using the toys like you would stones to cross a river. He jumped onto the bed and recoiled.

“Ewwww, its wet.”

“We should leave,” Hunter begged.

“And what’s your name sweetie?” The T.V. whispered.

I searched the room with my eyes. It was my first time inside in years. I remember when me and Matty used to be inseparable. I may have hated him, but it’d been so long since I’d seen him.

“I’m Emily!”

Cody bounced on a dry part of the bed, laughing.

“So, where’s the good food.”

“Hold on,” I said. “Matty?”

“Why, Emily. You look good enough to eat!”

It was just unfortunate when Matty’s accident happened. When I thought about it, I don’t think I’ve actually seen him since that field trip. Mom and Dad would show me ‘recent’ pictures and videos of him but I can’t tell if he looks older or not. It was partly my fault. I was distracted with all the gifts Mom and Dad got me afterward. They treated me with some of the money they got from the stem cell lab in court. Mattie’s accident was all their fault, Mom and Dad said.

Something shifted from the far side of the room. Cody’s face lost its color.

“Cody, lets go.”

When his feet hit the ground a pale hand darted from beneath the bed. Cody tumbled to the floor, shrieking.

“HELP!” Cody squealed. There was a clattering from the the kitchen and footsteps hurrying up the stairs.

Hunter ran out of the room wailing. I was glued in place by a morbid fixation. The hand that was clamped tightly around Cody’s ankle. Was that Matty’s? That thing, impossibly tall, clambering out from underneath the bed. That couldn’t be my ten-year-old brother, right?

I felt my Dad’s arms scoop me up and rush me into the hall. Before he shut the door I could see Mom with her arms raised in front of a monster. It was holding Cody upside down. Its swollen belly dragged along the floor, as if it’d swallowed a boulder.

I blacked out.

The reason I’m writing this is because I didn’t remember Matty until a few days ago. I’m in my 30s. For the past month my wife has encouraged me to go to a specialist due to night terrors that began last year. They had started infrequent, but recently its been every other night that my cries disturb our sleep.

I met with a woman who put me under some sort of hypnosis to help remember trauma. I woke up with those terrible memories. She told me the event could have been rejected from my memory naturally due to the severity of it. Or, another specialist had induced amnesia on me.

I had even forgot about Hunter and Cody. I looked for them both on social media and was able to get in contact with Hunter. He wasn’t very receptive at first but he agreed to meet after hearing my situation.

We sat at a bar. He gulped down his liquor before speaking.

“My memory is a bit funky too. I was in a mental hospital for a couple months. We moved and I learned how to push it away. The memory. In college I found out it was labeled a kidnapping.”

“What do you mean?”

“Cody never made it out of the house. That, I remember. Your parents did a damn good job. I don’t know what hoops they jumped through or whose pockets they filled.”

He paid for his tab.

“Don’t contact me again.”

On the way back to my car I tried calling my mom. She hasn’t answered her phone all day. My dad passed away last year but my mom still lives at my childhood home. I need to talk with her. In person. And maybe I’ll burn that house down on my way out.