It took me exactly twenty-six hours for the fact to establish in my head. He was gone. And nothing would ever be the same. Every waking moment was filled with tears and regret. I've never witnessed and felt so much sorrow at the same time. But most of all, I felt guilty. This was my fault. My actions turned into consequences. My parents not speaking to anybody outside of our house. My brother, Bryan. Gone.
I don't want it to, but my mind automatically replays the moment over and over again in my mind. I deserve the punishment. But, my heart knew I deserved more. Sitting there... trying to block it out wouldn't help anything. When it came to confessing, my body rejected opening my mouth. I have to confess. But I physically, and emotionally just can't.
Walking out of my bedroom. The hall was cold, and silent. Pictures of our imperfect family smothered the walls. I passed by Bryan's room. The door was opened a crack, light seeping through. I touched the doorknob. It was just two days ago I ran in here to wake him up. I heard a faint voice in the living room, "We have to get out of here, Nick. Please. I can't... I can't live here anymore," my mom whispered to my dad.
My dad exhaled loudly, "Where are we supposed to go, Jen?! Our finances are down the drain!"
"Our FAMILY is down the drain! Your own son has just DIED and your thinking about our finances? I'm sorry, Nick, but I just can't move on like you can!"
I peeked around the hall to see my dad pacing around the room, and my mom burying her face in her hands. "Are you trying to tell me I don't care? That I don't wake up at night ready to seriously hurt someone? That I don't-"
"Stop it! Please! Just stop," I screamed. My parents looked alarmed. My mom looked at my dad for a long time, and got up. "I'm sorry," she said. My dad looked at me once more and stomped out the door, clutching his keys. I followed my mom. She was packing her suitcase.
"Heres yours. Get ready," she handed me my red suitcase that we used for Disney World five years ago. The Disney tag was still on it. Since it was really big, Bryan and I shared it. It still had our names written in sloppy handwriting. "Mom... Where are we going? Where's Dad," I asked. She closed her eyes, "I don't know. Dad isn't coming. Just hurry, please."
She's running away. She want's to leave everything we worked for and start over. Without Dad. I walked into my room with the suitcase. I unzipped it, and threw whatever clothes I could find in it. I took my essentials, my iPod, my camera (filled with family pictures that I predicted I would need), hairbrush, toothbrush, and my mini laptop (it has everything in it). When it was just about to burst, I took my sweater and walked out, slamming the door on my way out.
Once again, I was in the hall, in front of Bryan's room. Flashes of that night filled my head. I opened the door. It was like he was just there. The whole room was messy. Clothes covered the carpet. I could see why Mom was always on him to clean his room. You could hardly walk in. I pushed the door wide as far as it would go and jumped over the mound of graphic tees and basketball shorts. It smelled like his cologne, too. I walked over to his desk.
One thing caught my eye on his desk. There was a glass jar filled to the brim with money in it with a piece of paper taped to it that said something, but it was scribbled out. Just then, I heard footsteps, "Hurry up, Jordyn! I'll be in the car," she yelled. I had to find out what he was saving up for. I took the jar, and Bryan's MacBook laying on his bed.
I knew I was being nosey, and unfair, but I had to find out. I had to do a lot of other things, too. Like tell my parents- or, Mom... what really happened. I can't even reassure myself that everything was going to be okay, though. So what makes it alright for me to think my Mom would think so? So much crap was going on. First, Bryan, then my Dad? What the hell was I going to do?