The Death of a Sibling (prologue)

A Chapter by alexiamarie

Prologue

And this grief will never let me go, said my brother.

It was guilt that had been his shadow, it was guilt that had been eating at him all these years. We all saw it �" it’s fair to say we all experienced it, the five of us, but our mothers have taught us to forgive each other and I think we all have. He, however, as much as we had vindicated him, could not let the blame be taken by anyone but himself. He let it transform into something more than life’s blight, he let it completely swallow him to the point he broke.

He’s never tried to fix it, and I’ve never tried to help. I’m sorry to say that. There seem to be many instances in my life where something could have changed if I only tried. But I’m terribly stubborn, and I take no pride in admitting the things I have done.

So I watched him lose control.

It was winter again after a slow and needy year. My brother and I had spent it quite alone, and most days apart from each other. There were those evenings when I, and sometimes he, bundled up to go out with the orphans, who were exhilarated at the sight of snowfall and seemed to radiate enough energy from running around to warm themselves. I truly did love them, but my brother not as much. I think that was the worst thing from all this, to see him lose the passion that was kindled so many years ago, when he was still young and prone to innocence. I thought he could lose everything but still have them as a good enough reason to go on. I was wrong. He was much more like my father than I ever realized.

It was nearly midnight when I had at last seen my brother let go of himself. He had always been a drinker, but he swallowed it down with stale water so as to not let his fragile masculinity break. I remember it so well it terrifies me. It terrified him, too. I think it terrified my father.

I was in the other room, sitting with a sluggish mind and a moth-eaten blanket that did no use. It was all getting to both of our heads. It was then and there when I heard the bottle shatter from his fingers. I let myself sit for a little longer in the uncomfortable lingering silence, except for the sounds of his heavy breathing and my quick heartbeat. The slow scraping on the table was what made me get up to check on him. From the doorway I found him hunched over, head in arms, back heaving up and down.

I whispered something. I can’t bring myself to say it again.

I hesitated in the doorway. It was a few seconds before he lifted up his head and looked at me with strained eyes. He hadn’t been crying �" I don’t think I ever saw my brother cry. His mouth was open slightly and he was staring at me with an awe-like expression.

I asked him what was wrong, knowing he would not give me an answer. He shook his head lazily and leaned back up in his chair to stare at the ceiling.

“You thought of something.”

He shook his head aggressively now. “I realized something.”

I sighed and pulled up a chair next to him. For a few minutes we both looked around at the room. At the rotting walls that kept us in. We had grown up here, but now we felt alienated and trapped. We should have repainted those walls that last summer, and I should have still done it the following spring. But I never did.

I wasn’t thinking of anything in particular because the squeezing of my throat was deepening, it was hurting. I knew well that it was a warning, but I don’t think I’ve ever learned from the past. He, I could tell, was lost deep in thought so I tried to pull him back.

“Are you going to tell me yourself or does another drink have to get it out of that head of yours?” I bit the inside of my cheek for how sharply I spoke. I’m still learning.

“Going back was never an option.”

He had said it like it was a profound revelation that no one had ever dared to think of before. But even then, my throat got stuck on something that hadn’t been

there for a couple years. “No. We couldn’t. We can’t. I thought you were on terms with that?”

A full minute passed before he turned his head slowly towards me. “I don’t think we knew what not being able to go back really meant.”

He was right. We were all very unaware, so innocent. We were children. Children who were not taught good and wrong.

“I think he did. I think he knew what he was doing. It seemed so easy for him.” my brother had said. The flash of anger in his eyes caught me off guard.

This same old knot in my throat tightened and I hated myself for thinking it wouldn’t come back. “No one. It’s not easy for anyone. He may have talked of beautiful things about…death but that’s because he was just too poetic.” I laughed.

He laughed too and it was forced like mine. “But death is beautiful, he wasn’t lying when he said it.”

“There’s nothing beautiful about it.” I said, a sudden rush of anger overwhelming me.

Silence passed between us.

“It’s one of the few things we can’t change.”

“It’s the only thing we can’t change.” I said bitterly.

He raised his eyebrows. “The world?”

And for that splitting moment we forgot about our terror. We could see in each other's eyes the memories sliding by. Just the happy ones. The ones in which we had convinced ourselves we were, at least.

I smiled, truly. “We sure tried.”

I wanted to hug him. For the first time in years, I wanted to hug him. And I would've. I would’ve if he hadn’t done it. I couldn’t honestly tell you what made him

do it because I thought he had a will to live for that fleeting moment.

People often tell me how it was my fault.

Shouldn't have left his side.

It’s strange how cruel people can be, and I still haven’t seemed to learn that even after all these years.

You knew how hurt and tired he was, you should have expected something to go wrong.

My brother wanted to die, and the kid has never gotten anything he has wanted in his life. I never thought he would succeed �" I never thought he would ever try; because we may have lost a lot, we may have lost everyone, but I could have counted on my fingers for him the things we still had.

I could have reminded him.

But did I ever get past my own heart?

We had each other. We had the chance to restart what was undone.

I could have tried just for his sake, but I’ve never been as kind as he used to be.