**Blood and Silence**

Peter knew others thought him and Henry didn’t get along. Which was true and untrue at the same time. Sure, Henry taunted him, but he also snuck him sweets and let him sleep in his bed after a nightmare (with much grumbling of course). The duality of their relationship was something Peter had grown accustomed to over the years. As he stood in the bathroom, staring at the deep cuts on Henry's arms, he couldn't help but think about the complexity of their bond. The cuts were a recent development, and Peter had noticed that Henry had become increasingly withdrawn, often locking himself in his room for hours on end. Their parents seemed oblivious to Henry's struggles, but Peter wasn't. He had seen the way Henry would flinch at the slightest sound, the way his eyes would cloud over with a mixture of pain and fear. As he gently washed the dirt and grime from Henry's wounds, Peter couldn't help but think about the times Henry had been there for him. The times he had snuck into Peter's room in the dead of night, sharing his favorite sweets and listening to Peter's fears and worries. The times he had protected Peter from their parents' wrath, taking the blame for Peter's mistakes and bearing the brunt of their anger. But those moments of tenderness were few and far between. Most of the time, Henry was a thorn in Peter's side, constantly teasing and provoking him. Their parents seemed to think that Peter was the favorite, but Henry's jabs about their clear favoritism stung. Peter had always wondered if there was truth to Henry's claims, if their parents did indeed favor him over Henry. As he carefully bandaged Henry's wounds, Peter's mind wandered to the monsters that Henry often spoke of. The creatures that lurked in the shadows, waiting to pounce. Peter had always thought they were just a product of Henry's vivid imagination, but the cuts on his arms told a different story. "Hey, thanks for doing this, Pete," Henry muttered, his eyes fixed on the floor. Peter looked up, meeting Henry's gaze in the mirror. "No problem, Henry. You should be more careful, though. Those cuts are deep." Henry shrugged, a scowl twisting his face. "I told you, I got them from fighting monsters." Peter raised an eyebrow, unsure of what to believe. Part of him wanted to think that Henry was just spinning a wild tale, but another part of him wondered if there was truth to the claim. He remembered the strange noises that echoed through the house at night, the creaks and groans that seemed to come from nowhere. As he finished up, Peter couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Henry's story than he was letting on. And he couldn't help but wonder what other secrets his brother might be hiding. The bathroom fell silent, the only sound the gentle hum of the extractor fan. Peter met Henry's gaze, searching for answers, but Henry just looked away, his eyes drifting back to the floor. "What are you thinking, Pete?" Henry asked, his voice low and guarded. Peter hesitated, unsure of how to respond. He didn't want to push Henry too hard, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. "Just that... maybe you should talk to Mum and Dad about what's going on," Peter said, trying to tread carefully. Henry's expression darkened, and for a moment, Peter thought he saw a flash of fear in his brother's eyes. But it was quickly replaced by a scowl, and Henry's voice was laced with venom. "They wouldn't care, Pete. They never do." The air was thick with tension as Peter met Henry's gaze, searching for a glimmer of the brother he thought he knew. But all he saw was a mask of silence and pain, and a deep-seated fear that seemed to be growing by the day.