Risking It

Little Bro

"Artemmmiiiisssss."

I didn't even have the energy to respond to my pesky little brother, so I just groaned. My head felt like it was dying. I felt like I was dying in general. The last thing I remembered was taking my clothes off.

"Arti. You said we could go to the trampoline park."

Fuck. I do actually remember that. I guess I'd just have to pain through it. Before I even bothered throwing on a t-shirt, I took a few pain pills. Man, today was gonna suck.

I can promise you that a bunch of screaming kids and jumping did not help my mild hangover. But Devon had the time of his life. He ran around like a madman. Jumping and doing tricks. Going on the obstacle course and smiling like an idiot. We stayed there for hours. I guess we both lost track of time. I took a small nap on one of the beanbags, and Devon would have been happy to have never left.

After I coaxed him to leave, we went and got ice cream. He choose rocky road and I got my usual vanilla. He questioned, "Arti, every time we get ice-cream you always get vanilla. Why?"

Because," I grinned, "Life is better when it's simple."

He pointed out, "I asked about ice-cream. Not life."

I didn't really bother to answer, I just laughed a little.

When we got home, Dad was on one of his writing tangents, when he would stay in his office for hours typing and he would forget to eat and he didn't really cared what we did. Mom was over at her best friends house, so it was basically just Devon and I, so we went downstairs to play some video-games.

As much as I loved my little brother, when we played video-games it always involved us yelling at each other a lot. Its because he's so good and I basically suck at all of them. So I yell at him for always winning if we play against each other. And if we play a game that involves us working together, he yells at me for being a bad player. It's still fun though, just because we enjoy hanging out. I remember one time I got game rage, and I hurled the control across the room, and almost broke the TV. I was banned from video-games for two month. Devon and I laugh about it now. And whenever I get mad during a game, he says "Just don't throw the controller."

I glanced over at my brother and went deep into thought. The day he was born, I was about eight. I held him and my only thought was "What is this rat thing that my parents are making me hold?" I actually hated him until one night, I heard him crying in his crib and I tip-toed into his nursery, and picked him up. I stayed there with him all night, rocking him. And from that moment on, nothing in my life mattered as much as my little brother.

We played video-games for hours and no controllers were thrown (this time.) After all that work, I was exhausted and came up with the most brilliant idea.

Ever since Devon had been three-years-old, he had loved taking risks. And I knew something he would completely love to do. "Devon," I asked "would you like to go hiking?"

He glanced up and hollered, "Can we really??"

A little bit later, we were at a steep hiking trail. Climbing upwards. There was a path, but it was rocky and went right up the hill. Of course, that was the path that Devon wanted to take.

I let him go first, and I stood behind him. Ready to catch him if he fell. We climbed for about thirty minutes. At one point, my foot slipped. I slid down a few rocks, and for a minute I thought I was going to slid all the way down.

Just as we were about halfway up another mountain. The worst thing you could imagine happened. Devon fell.

When I had fallen, I had been terrified. But it didn't even compare to what terror I felt when Devon slipped. His foot had missed a step and he fell backwards. I tried to catch him, but only succeeded in grabbing his hand. For a minute, I thought we were both going to fall down the hill. But instead he slid to a stop.

Blood was pouring off his arms, and he had a huge scratch on the side of his face. He was tearing up. And I felt an over whelming guilt.

"Devon! Are you okay?" I crawled down to where he had fallen.

He whispered, "I'm f-fine."

I suggest we went back, and Devon agreed.

The whole, careful walk there I was hating myself. Why? Why did I think this was a good idea? How dare I bring my brother into danger. This was a bad idea. This is all my fault.

You know that feeling you get when you do something really wrong? That guilty feeling that pools in the bottom of your stomach. And suddenly you can't think of anything else. You can barely stand yourself. That was exactly how this was.

My parents were furious. But their anger towards me, didn't even compare to my anger at myself.

As I was laying down for bed I was mentally talking to myself. I was replaying the days event in my head. I was replaying and replaying Devon's teared up eyes.

I am the one who took him out there. He may be fine, but I still put him in danger. How could I do that? What is wrong with me?

He looked so scared. He could have broken bones. He could have been seriously injured.

By the end of my guilt session. I had come to one conclusion. My need for adventure had hurt my little brother. My addiction to adrenaline had come to the point where I was becoming crazy.