Brothers
You walk back up to your bedroom for the night and try to block the sound of your mom sobbing from your head. It continues for quite some time and soon after, your father is screaming in drunken horror.
It isn't long before the blue and red lights flash through the windows. You pull yourself from bed and walk downstairs while several policemen walk through your living room and kitchen. An ambulance arrives shortly.
You can't seem to reach your parents through the uniformed bodies, so you go back upstairs to check on Kenny.
But Kenny isn't in his bed. You swallow hard and your stomach feels all empty inside. You run downstairs, tears welling in your eyes. You push and shove through the crowd of officers and break through the masses into the kitchen where your father cradles your mother in his arms and two paramedics lift a lifeless form up between them on a stretcher.
What happened? You cry out to your parents. None of them speak; they just cry and hold each other. You find yourself sobbing right along with them.
You later find out that Kenny had taken a kitchen knife and slit open his throat.
Your depression suddenly returns, more encompassing this time. You shouldn't have gone back to bed. You could have called the paramedics and gotten Kenny help sooner. You are the reason your baby brother is dead. His blood is on your hands.
Really, when you think about it, you've allowed him to die twice.
................................
A few months pass. You have no friends. Even the few you had before are gone now. You hate them all now, anyway. Your grades, while never spectacular, have plummeted. And you are doing drugs again.
You've moved past the pot thing. You're onto more discrete and more powerful things. Track marks line your veins. There is nothing quite like heroin to numb you.
One day you meet a girl who seems as depressed and desperate as you. The two of you get along marvelously, hating yourselves and empathizing with each others' pains.
Her name is Catherine and she has been abused all her life. Her father and her boyfriends. They liked to hit her, and she has always suffered and taken the pain. She says she deserves it.
You know how she feels.
One day, as the two of you are talking, she leans forward and kisses you. Her lips are soft and moist, her eyes closed.
It isn't long before the blue and red lights flash through the windows. You pull yourself from bed and walk downstairs while several policemen walk through your living room and kitchen. An ambulance arrives shortly.
You can't seem to reach your parents through the uniformed bodies, so you go back upstairs to check on Kenny.
But Kenny isn't in his bed. You swallow hard and your stomach feels all empty inside. You run downstairs, tears welling in your eyes. You push and shove through the crowd of officers and break through the masses into the kitchen where your father cradles your mother in his arms and two paramedics lift a lifeless form up between them on a stretcher.
What happened? You cry out to your parents. None of them speak; they just cry and hold each other. You find yourself sobbing right along with them.
You later find out that Kenny had taken a kitchen knife and slit open his throat.
Your depression suddenly returns, more encompassing this time. You shouldn't have gone back to bed. You could have called the paramedics and gotten Kenny help sooner. You are the reason your baby brother is dead. His blood is on your hands.
Really, when you think about it, you've allowed him to die twice.
................................
A few months pass. You have no friends. Even the few you had before are gone now. You hate them all now, anyway. Your grades, while never spectacular, have plummeted. And you are doing drugs again.
You've moved past the pot thing. You're onto more discrete and more powerful things. Track marks line your veins. There is nothing quite like heroin to numb you.
One day you meet a girl who seems as depressed and desperate as you. The two of you get along marvelously, hating yourselves and empathizing with each others' pains.
Her name is Catherine and she has been abused all her life. Her father and her boyfriends. They liked to hit her, and she has always suffered and taken the pain. She says she deserves it.
You know how she feels.
One day, as the two of you are talking, she leans forward and kisses you. Her lips are soft and moist, her eyes closed.