Cas R. Myers

I love fiction, both in reading and writing.

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I Know

August 3, 2014

It has been five days since the night of his death. It broke me. I saw the whole thing; watched his eyes go dark. My big bro was dead and I missed him. The look in his eyes when he saw me at the door. His eyes got wide and he tried to call out. But it was too late. The pills were not still in his hand, and he could not take it all back. When I knew what he had done, I ran to him. His limp arm was not warm, and it was white. His eyes, his dark brown eyes, were dull. They were not as full of life as I was used to them.

I did not know he was sad. A smile on his face at all times. That smile made sure I was not sad, and that I could not be sad at all. He loved me as I loved him. How had I not known that he was sad? He must have thought that it would be clean; that no one else would get hurt.

He was wrong. A piece of me died with him that night. Now I was sad and mad and scared. My soul turned black and my heart turned to ash. Fire and ice as one could not cause the pain I felt as I watched him slip and leave me. He was too young to die, and I too young to see. I'm but three years more than twelve and he but five.

Now I sit here. He is still dead and I wish I were too. Dad cries and mom drinks. And I sit. In this chair while a man with a pen and pad writes.

I loved him. And I do not wish to live in a world that does not have him in it. I want to die too. I do not know when. When I get home or when the sun sets or in ten years or when I'm old. I do not know how. Pills or a gun or a car crash or old age.

I don't know much. I know that I will not be the same. I know that the dead piece of me will stay dead. I know that I miss him and love him. I know that I will think of him each day, and that when I die, my last thought will be of him. I know that I did not get to say "Bye."


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  • August 3, 2014 - 2:46pm (Now Viewing)

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