Shiloh was moving calmly around the empty space that was the bedroom. He kept glancing up at the ceiling, mentally trying to decide how long to give Aaron before he panicked.
When he'd chosen to move his brother here, this was not what he had in mind. He hadn't stopped to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he was wondering if that was going to end up being a catastrophic oversight.
He pulled his turtleneck off, and the long sleeved shirt beneath it, leaving his chest bare; there was no point in ruining the few items of clothing he had with blood. His chest, back and arms were a menagerie of stitched up, angry lines scarred over.
He fished a paper bag from his dresser, and he dumped it beside Shane on the bed. All the ingredients of a homemade first aid kit spilled out on the mattress. None of the items seemed particularly new. He pushed needle and thread and gauze aside, and he picked up a pill bottle with a foreign name out of the pile, taking two pills and holding them to Shane. "For infection."