This was a short story that I wrote over two summers ago. I would post the full story, but it is currently being edited by others, so here is the re-written version of the climax. Enjoy!
MY BROTHER LUNGED AT me with outstretched arms; his eyes dark with intense rage. He fisted his hands into my shirt collar and backed me into a wall, the corners of his lips turning up in a malicious smile at my feeble attempts to get away.
Over his shoulder, I saw our parents. Mom was tugging at my brother's arms, and Dad demanded he let go of me, but to no avail. He shrugged himself out of mom's grip and punched me with fists of steel.
My cheekbone ached with a swelling pain. I hadn't even adjusted to the discomfort before he hit me again, the impact sending me crashing onto the floor.
The ache had begun to spread, making my vision blur. "You're crazy!" I wailed, seething in undeniable anger. But he growled with delight, my words only spurring him on.
"Whatcha gonna do 'bout it?" He taunted, kicking me in the stomach. He laughed when I cried in agony, as if my pain were comical. Mom screamed at him, but her words were muffled by the ringing of a pulse in my ears.
It was a bitter pulse, fuelled by anger and adrenaline. I hadn't realized it was my own until my brother raised his foot to kick me again. I stopped it midway and pulled, watching him fall onto his back. He grunted and started to push himself back up, but I knocked him back down.
In an instant my hands were on his face, grazing his jaw and temple with bruising punches. His expression twisted into one of anguish, and I laughed loudly; losing myself in the next few punches.
I wanted him to suffer, like he made me. I wanted him to cower; I wanted to hit him until I couldn't feel my hands.
But I couldn't. My father pried my hands from my brother's face. I struggled to escape but the hold got tighter, and he pulled me farther away. My mother ran to inspect my brother, the hulking mass of ferocious bruises and blood.
I expected him to groan, to wave away her touch, but he didn't. Even I, in my haze, couldn't tell if he were breathing. Dad shouted at Mom to call an ambulance and she ran to the nearest house phone, her voice quivering as she spoke to someone on the other line.
I hadn't known the severity of my actions until the paramedics arrived and hoisted my brother onto a stretcher. At the hospital, I was treated for my wounds and given a stinging antiseptic, but nothing could protect me from the doctor's painful words.
I'd put my brother into a coma.
YOU ARE READING
A Moment of Weakness
Random"He isn't waking up. Call an ambulance!" It was then when Connor realized what he'd done, the disaster he'd caused. He watched the paramedics arrive only twenty minutes later and hoist his brother cautiously onto a stretcher. "I never meant to take...
