Falling with the stones

 

It wasn’t like me to feel this way, I never did anything wrong. But the guilt tore me into pieces. My one step closer to the edge cost my brother his life. I needed to run and catch him before it was too late. He was off the edge of the cliff and falling with the stones.

Maybe I need to show my brother more respect after this was over; maybe I needed to show him I loved him as I truly did.  But this changed me.

I ran through the trees wondering ‘was my brother life over?’

‘Was my brother still alive, but on the journey to death?’

Down at the bottom I was bleeding from cuts and scrapes on my legs from trees, bushes, Brocken rocks and splintered branches. I was on a mission to find my brother and end this with a nice roast stuffed with gravy and steamed vegetables that were made with melting butter and salt.

The four people I lived with at home were, my mum, my dad, my twin brother and my little sister. I was afraid that one of them would leave us today. I could only think of my family so depressed and heart Brocken if they heard That Greg is dead.

My heart was missing a beat and my breathing was heavy. I was transforming into something I wasn’t, the person I never wanted to be.

I ran to find my brother on the ground moaning. I felt the smallest bit of relief, as I knew that my brother was alive. But knowing what I planned to do next made me less and less of a good sister then I already was.

I picked my brother up off the ground by his neck and his lower legs in one swift move. I made sure his head was steady and kept a close eye on his breathing and heartbeat.

 

  As I just entered the small town of which where I lived my brother heart stopped right there as he was cradled in my arms.

I dropped him and ran trying to hide the anger and depression I felt inside. I was leaving my brother there dead for someone to find him. 

I felt the guilt again but stronger this time, knowing I should run back and get my brother, but I am staying strong.

I ran past my home peeking into the small window outside the kitchen. I could see my mother’s worried face as she held my sister in her arms looking to the left of the house I saw my father reaching for his coat.

 I looked at the clock above his head, 6:30pm. We should have been home half an hour ago.

 I turned to face the direction of which my brother was lying in and ran state ahead as fast as I could.

Once at the gate I found that my brother was gone! Looking around I walked through the crowds of people asking: “ have you seen this boy?”  Pointing to a picture of my family in a locket I kept in my bag. Everyone just turned up their nose at me and walked on by.

After half an hour of looking around I found my brother lying behind a stall, I looked up to see a man pointing at my brother while talking to the shopkeeper. As I limped up to him with my sore legs from running, the man started loading my brother in to the back of his cart. I started tugging on his arm and shouting at him: “he’s mine!” “HE’S MINE!”

He turn to me I silence letting go of my brother, he slapped me on the cheek with the back of his hand and sent me flying to the ground as he jumped up onto the cart and shouted something to the driver.

They road off fast with out looking back

I ran around between the two closet houses and began to cry.

 

 

 

I sat there feeling cold after along time of crying. The same cart that took my brother’s dead body rolled up in front of me, the man that slapped me in the face throw my brother to my feet. Letting out a high-pitched scream I through my arms around my brother and held my breath to prevent myself from screaming again.