Silent Moments

Silent Moments

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WpMetadataNoticeZuletzt aktualisiert Do., Juli 25, 2013
The picture that was full of promises suddenly felt heavy in my hands. I couldn’t look at it. It brought back too many memories of him. I didn’t know what I was doing, until it was too late. I tightened my grip on the picture and whipped it at my bedroom wall. I watched in amazement as it soared and I gasped and then it hit the wall with a shatter. I covered my eyes as some of the glass flew at me. That was just enough to set it off. I was suddenly back in Iraq. Owen was by my side, our machine guns in hand. We were being as stealth as we could possibly be. I don’t know who threw the grenade, but what I do know is that it bounced off of my back and caught on one of the loose strings on my jacket. Owen took it and threw it into the nearest shop. Glass shattered as the grenade and the shop window collided. Suddenly, Owen ran at me and knocked me to the ground. The grenade exploded then. Whole bricks, rubble, and glass rained down on top of us, and all I could do was watch in amazement that something so small could create such a huge disaster, while being squashed under a 180 pound man. Then I was pulled back to reality. Grace, a 17 year old girl has always admired her brother. When he decides that it's his duty to serve his country, Grace can't help but think that she needs to follow him. Several years later, she returns home, on leave, due to her brother's premature death. While greiving, she re-lives the good and the bad times while out in Iraq. When her brother is with her, and when he's not. And it all starts from the very beginning...
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Content Warning: This story contains themes of abuse, mental illness, blood, and drug use. Reader discretion is advised. If any of this feels familiar or personal, please know you're not alone. Feeling overwhelmed or emotional doesn't make you weak-it makes you human. If you're going through something and don't have anyone to talk to, you can always message me. My DMs are open on Instagram @thegoob_first. No judgment. Just someone who's willing to listen. ⸻ People say it gets better. That pain is temporary. That if you just "hold on," things will change. But I've been holding on so tight my hands are bleeding, and nothing's changed- except me. I'm thirteen, and I'm already tired. Not just sleepy. I mean tired in my bones. Tired of pretending school matters. Tired of dodging fists and fake smiles. Tired of being the leftover twin. Kevin was the one people loved. The loud one. The brave one. He used to say we were two halves of the same storm. But he's gone. Drowned in a river we weren't supposed to be near. And I'm still here. Alone. Sometimes I wonder if the wrong twin died. And some days, I know it. My mom won't look at me the same. My dad's fists speak louder than his words. And me? I gave up a long time ago. So I did what you're not supposed to do. I ended it. Only-I didn't. Because I woke up. Again. Same day. Same weight in my chest. Same pain. Now I can't even die right. But then I met her. Skye. And suddenly, dying isn't the hardest part anymore. Living is.

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