Time seemed to stop after my dad got that phone call about an "incident" at the hotel where the homecoming dance was being held. Nate and Sunny had left a few hours ago for the dance, and as we ran out of the house, all I had were questions.
What happened?
Was Nate okay?
What about Sunny?
I sat in the back of dad's SUV as he barreled down the highway towards the hospital, and that's when the regret began to sink in.
Why had I been so mean to Nate this whole time?
Why did I spend so much time hating him and trying to make him miserable when none of this was his fault?
He was my kid brother, and I've been treating him like trash since we were little.
We finally got to the hospital and when they told us Nate was in surgery from a gunshot wound, my mom broke down, my dad punched a framed photo on the wall and had to get a few stitches.
I took a seat in the far corner and started pleading with God to save my brother's life; I needed another chance to be a better brother; to be the brother he always deserved.
✨
I don't know how much time had passed but after a while, the Prescotts all showed up. Sunny took a seat next to me and held my hand; I was thankful for the small gesture.
She didn't know how much I needed it at that moment.
More time passed until a doctor finally walked out of the doors we had been staring at for hours.
Everyone gathered around him and as I could tell by the solemn look on his face, he was about to break each of our hearts.
"I'm sorry. He... We lost him."
🖤
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