Brothers
The day your little brother was abducted you were at a park with him. He was playing on the jungle gym with you, using all his energy to maintain your focus. You remember being so annoyed by this. It is frustrating sometimes to have a younger brother.
There were some older girls sitting on a bench talking. They were cute. Your interest in girls seemed to be developing as of late, and you couldn't get enough of them. So you proceeded to walk over to them, introduce yourself, and began clowning around. They laughed and giggled at everything you said. One of them said you were cute. You weren't sure if she meant "good looking" cute or "little kid" cute, but took it as a good sign anyway.
Then you heard a muffled cry behind you and turned around at the last second to see Kenny being shoved into a car, the door being forced closed by a large bald man who ran around the car, got in and drove away before you could reach the side of the vehicle.
It was your fault Kenny was taken. The park, the girls, the jungle gym; they all seemed to melt into the background. Nothing was important anymore. Kenny was gone, and you were to blame.
A few days later Kenny came back. The police found him and brought him back into your home. But he wasn't the same Kenny. His carefree spirit and fun loving attitude was replaced by a reserved and quiet despair.
It's been two weeks since the incident, and you still can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes. You've tried to comfort him, tried to apologize, but he never responds. It reminds you a bit of the Who musical; Tommy. Except Tina Turner isn't dropping by to coke everyone up.
Death could be a fitting punishment for you, you think sometimes.
One day when you come home from school you hear crying coming from Kenny's room. No one is in there but him, you are sure. He is doing more than just crying, he is sobbing. You crack open his door and peer inside. He sits on the floor rocking himself back and forth.
There were some older girls sitting on a bench talking. They were cute. Your interest in girls seemed to be developing as of late, and you couldn't get enough of them. So you proceeded to walk over to them, introduce yourself, and began clowning around. They laughed and giggled at everything you said. One of them said you were cute. You weren't sure if she meant "good looking" cute or "little kid" cute, but took it as a good sign anyway.
Then you heard a muffled cry behind you and turned around at the last second to see Kenny being shoved into a car, the door being forced closed by a large bald man who ran around the car, got in and drove away before you could reach the side of the vehicle.
It was your fault Kenny was taken. The park, the girls, the jungle gym; they all seemed to melt into the background. Nothing was important anymore. Kenny was gone, and you were to blame.
A few days later Kenny came back. The police found him and brought him back into your home. But he wasn't the same Kenny. His carefree spirit and fun loving attitude was replaced by a reserved and quiet despair.
It's been two weeks since the incident, and you still can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes. You've tried to comfort him, tried to apologize, but he never responds. It reminds you a bit of the Who musical; Tommy. Except Tina Turner isn't dropping by to coke everyone up.
Death could be a fitting punishment for you, you think sometimes.
One day when you come home from school you hear crying coming from Kenny's room. No one is in there but him, you are sure. He is doing more than just crying, he is sobbing. You crack open his door and peer inside. He sits on the floor rocking himself back and forth.