"George! Where are you?" Margaret called out and looked for her six-year-old son.

"Here mom. What is it?" He asked and came into the living room where his parents were sitting.

"We need to talk to you about something very important." Said William. George nodded slowly and sat down next to his parents.

"Have you ever heard of siblings?" Asked Margaret. The boy giggled.

"Of course, mom. I'm not stupid." She smiled at him as she stroked his hair.

"And how would you like it if you got one?" George smile fell.

"I'm getting a sibling?"

"Yes. I'm pregnant honey. You're getting a brother." He nodded slowly.

"What will he be called?"

"Malcolm." She declared proudly.

"Ma, I don't want a brother." Said George, looking into her eyes. She stopped smiling too.

"George. We can't change it anymore. Your father and I wanted a second child." George nodded.

"We could kill the baby." He muttered.

"George!" Shouted both adults at the same time. "Of course not!" George nodded and then went to his room.

"That didn't go well." William muttered as he kissed his wife on the forehead and stroked her baby bump.

*

It had been months now and Margaret knew that she would give birth to her child today. She was in the hospital. After a long labor, little Malcolm Mitchell Young was born. He stared at his parents with big brown eyes. William kissed his wife happily.

"You did so well, honey." She smiled.

*

"George?"

"Yes?" George came into the kitchen. He had been home alone. Margaret put a small bundle on the kitchen table.

"Do I get a present?" He asked with wide eyes. She smiled and put the covers aside. Big brown eyes stared at George.

"What is that?" Asked the boy, shocked.

"This isn't a what, George. This is your little brother, Malcolm." William said, stroking George's back as the boy was sitting on his lap.

"But I don't want a little brother!" George yelled, his eyes glittering with tears. The parents looked at each other helplessly. Malcolm reached out a tiny hand to his brother and grabbed George's finger. George yanked his finger from the grip. Malcolm looked at him whimpering. "I hate you!" George yelled at the baby and ran away. Margaret wept.

"George!" Shouted William, running after him. Malcolm was crying too. Margaret put the baby on her breast and whispered:

"Everything will be fine, Malcolm. Everything will be fine."

*

The year passed quickly. George was always playing tricks on his little brother to hurt him. He put banana peels on the floor, gave him sharp objects, and even mixed poison in Malcolm's bottle. The parents always managed to react in a timely manner.

"George? What are you doing?" Malcolm asked. He was two years old and could speak quite well. George scribbled on a piece of paper.

"Is none of your business."

"But George-"

"Go away!"

"But George, I-"

"I hate you! I hate you so deeply! Die! Nobody wants you anyway!" Malcolm looked at him with crying eyes. The parents came home.

"What is Malcolm?" Margaret asked tenderly as she sat down next to him.

"Nothing." Malcolm said, sniffing.

"Something is wrong, honey."

"Nothing!" Shouted Malcolm and ran into the garden. William followed him. He found Malcolm crying behind the pile of wood.

"What's going on, Malcolm?" He asked tenderly. "Did George say something again?" Malcolm nodded, trembling. "What?"

"He said that he hates me and that I should die. Nobody wants me anyway." Malcolm muttered, weeping. William gasped for air. He pulled his little boy close.

"I'll talk to him. Sh. Is good."

"He didn't mean it, Dad. He's my brother. He sure didn't mean it." Malcolm muttered to himself. William smiled.

"You always see the good in people, Malcolm. You're a very good person."

"W ... why does G ... George hate me?" He cried.

"I don't know."

*

A week later, Malcolm was sitting on the sofa. George, who was now seven years old, sat next to him, wondering what else he could do to the poor boy. Then the mother came in. Margaret went to her boys.

"Boys, I want to tell you something." The two looked at her waiting. "You're getting a sibling." George's expression darkened and he ran away angrily. She looked after him sadly. Then she felt someone pull on her dress.

"Mom?" Asked Malcolm in a high voice. His voice was still quite high for a boy, but the doctor said it should subside over time.

"Yes my darling?" She asked, trying not to cry.

"Do I get a sister or a brother?"

"You're going to have a little brother." She put him on her lap.

"What's his name?" The boy asked curiously again.

"I don't have a name yet, Malcolm."

"How about ... Leroy?" She giggled.

"That's not a pretty name darling."

"Hamish?"

"An old Scottish name. But no." She stroked his hair. The boy thought hard about it. He hummed thoughtfully.

"Angus!" Yelled Malcolm excitedly. She thought for a moment.

"That's a lovely name, Malcolm."

"Can he be called Angus? Please, please, please, mom?" He jumped up and down and clapped his hands. She giggled.

"We'll ask Dad when he comes home, okay?" He nodded and leaned against her baby bump. She smiled that at least one of her sons was happy. His fingers caressed her stomach.

"Hello Angus. I'm your big brother, Malcolm. And I'll take care of you, okay? Then we can play together. And paint. Do you like to paint? And we can go skateboarding. I'm not good at it yet, but we can try together." He said. Margaret giggled a little.

*

In the evening William came home from work. Malcolm ran into his arms.

"Daddy!" William laughed and picked him up.

"Well champion? Have a good day?" Malcolm nodded quickly.

"Papa?" He asked as William placed him on his hip.

"Yes?"

"Mom said I was going to have a brother." He stiffened a little.

"Yes, you get one."

"Can he be called Angus? Please?" Malcolm asked, doggy-eyed.

"Your mother likes the name?"

"Yes."

"Then his name is Angus." Grinned the father. Malcolm ran around in circles screaming with joy.

*

Angus McKinnon Young was born on March 31st. He screamed and looked at his parents with emerald green eyes. He had a few curls on his head.

*

When they got home, George was locked in his room again. He hadn't spoken since he found out he was going to have another brother. Malcolm greeted them with:

"Where's Angus? Can I see him?" He hopped around his parents like a little kangaroo. They giggled. Margaret sat down on the sofa and showed a baby wrapped in blankets on her lap. Malcolm climbed onto the sofa between his parents and looked at the sleeping baby. "He's ugly." Malcolm chuckled.

"Every baby is ugly. You were too." William laughed. Angus's eyes opened and looked at Malcolm with pine green irises. Malcolm gasped sharply. The parents looked at him with concern.

"He has such beautiful eyes." Enthused Malcolm, stroking the baby's cheek. Angus gurgled and took Malcolm's finger in his tiny hand. Malcolm giggled. "You're so cute. Can I hold him, Ma?" He didn't look away from the baby. Margaret picked up the baby and placed it in Malcolm's lap. She showed him how to hold it. Angus stared at Malcolm. Malcolm tapped his tiny nose. The baby laughed. Malcolm snuggled up against the baby. "I love you, Ang." The parents smiled at that and the new nickname. "I'll always be there for you, okay? Promised. When you need me I'm there. I'm your big brother okay? I'll take care of you." Malcolm said, completely forgetting that there was someone else around him. For him the world was just him and his little brother.

*

Angus grew bigger. Just like George and Malcolm. Malcolm and Angus became like bad luck and brimstone. You couldn't see them anywhere without the other. George was mostly alone. He always watched them jealously. Angus was in Malcolm's room.

"We're missing the red." Malcolm muttered as they drew a picture together. Malcolm was already in elementary school. Angus not yet.

"I don't have any." Angus said sadly.

"I'll ask George." Malcolm got up and walked towards his big brother's door. He knocked. "George?"

"Go away!" Shouted the 13 year old. He had pimples all over his face and was nastier than before. Malcolm opened the door anyway and asked:

"Do you have a red pencil?"

"No! I said: Go away!" He threw a shoe at Malcolm.

"But George, I asked nicely." Said the younger, blankly.

"You should run away! Nobody likes you! Fuck off!" Shouted George and threw the first thing he could get his hands on at his little brother. Scissors. Then he kicked the door shut. He let himself fall on his bed and took a deep breath. Suddenly he heard Angus crying. Actually, he shouldn't care. This little brat was to blame for the fact that he no longer received any attention. But he opened the door anyway. With curiosity. And he didn't like what he saw. Malcolm was on the floor with Angus kneeling over him and crying.

"What's going on here?" He asked.

"Why do you hate us?" Asked Angus, crying.

"Because you're stupid!" Cried George. "And why the hell are you crying?" Angus ignored him. He shook his big brother's shoulder with his hand.

"Mal?" He sniffed. "Mal, please." More tears ran down his cheeks. George went to them. He was frightened. The scissors were in Malcolm's neck. Blood flowed en masse on the floor. Malcolm only looked half awake at him.

"Oh shit!" George stumbled back. When he had recovered himself, he ran to his father's study.

"Dad! We need an ambulance!"

"Why?"

"Malcolm." George was crying too. The father ran up the stairs in a panic. Angus was still crying next to his brother. William was startled.

"Malcolm?" He quickly knelt in front of his son. He pulled out the scissors, took off his tie, and wrapped it around Malcolm's neck to stop the bleeding. Angus wept loudly. Then William called the ambulance. He picked Malcolm bridal and dragged him to the front of the house, where he sat on the stairs with his son in his lap and waited for the ambulance to arrive. Angus sat next to him, holding Malcolm's hand.

"Don't die, Mal." Angus cried. George stared at them in shock. His little brother was bleeding to death and it was his fault. His little brother. Why did he hate him so much? Malcolm couldn't help it! Why had he hurt him so often and wanted to kill him? Why had he never seen Angus as his brother? He could have been with them like Angus and Malcolm were! Why was he such an idiot? He was crying too now.

"Don't die, Mally. I'm so sorry." He cried, holding Malcolm's limp hand. Malcolm's head hung back and he looked at his brothers with bleary eyes.

*

Malcolm had been taken to the hospital. His neck sewn and he had a bandage. He was in bed. Angus sat on the edge of the bed and held his hand. George sat next to them.

"I'm so sorry." Cried the oldest.

"It's okay." Malcolm said hotter. His voice scratched from the injury.

"Why did you hate us so?" Asked Angus.

"I ... I was jealous of you. Ma and Dad were always with you. You were like best friends ever. I was always jealous of you. Mostly to Malcolm because everyone loved him. Not just Ma and Dad, but you too. You admired him for everything. No matter what he did." He cried. Angus took his big brother in his arms. Malcolm rose to his elbows and gave them a hug.

"We're all together now." Malcolm muttered happily.

"I love you both, my little brothers," Said George.

"So do we, big brother." Malcolm and Angus whispered at the same time.

THE END;