Their Loss

Their Loss

         We shouldnât be here. We shouldnât be here, we shouldnât be here, we shouldnât be here. We. Should. Not. Be. Here. Every fiber in my body berates me to hide in a corner to dissolve in this consuming sadness. Every cell in my body, every twitching muscle, every single connection in my useless brain screams at me to abandon this normal life and grieve. But I canât. I must move on and stay strong for him. After all heâs taught me, all he gave me, I canât shame him by dissolving in my self-pity. My strength and will are what he gave me and they are what shall grow more powerful in his name. No matter how much pain his passing causes me, surrendering my life to depression is not an option. For him, my very life has turned into a memorial.

         My brother, Alex, does not have the same mindset as I do towards his death. Heâs usually the calmer, more merciful of us, but his death lit the fragile tinder inside of him that are his emotions ablaze and left him volatile. Rage is his automatic response to any confrontation, replacing his normal, calm analyzations. I fear that he is too dangerous and unstable to be active, let alone attending school. The possibility of him erupting forever increases with me the only possible force to stop him.

         I look up from my desk to see my brother sitting across the room, engraving random lines into his desk with an old, rusted pair of scissors. The bone-chilling grinding sparks the attention of the entire room, including the teacher, a shroud old woman who is known for beingâ¦difficult.

         âAlex Lenson! What do you think you are doing?!â she exclaims with a cracking voice. That is vandalism young man! Iâm going to call the deputy to drag you away, you little delinquent!â

         As I feared, he looks up slowly with a flame in his eyes and growls, âWhat the hell do you think that would do?â The teacher is taken back and begins to show fear; this only fuels my brotherâs rage. He stands up with a jolt and roars, âJust try to go for the phone and weâll all see what these scissors sound like dragging against your sagging flesh!â She almost falls down she was filled with so much fear. I know he was going to turn to violence any second and I am the only one that can put him down.

         I rise from my desk, with power and authority, sternly speaking, âThatâs enough Alex. Sit down. Now.â

         His shocked face contorts into pure rage. âBitch I could kill you right now with a flick of my wrist! Who the hell are you to tell me to sit down?!â

         âDammit Alex! Stand down now our I will put you down to protect these people.â

         With a twitch of his face and scream of rage, he throws his desk against the wall and charges at me. He hits me like an unstoppable train and slams me against the wall. Gasping for air, I force me knee into his rib cage with enough force to fracture one and push him to the ground. Unphased, he jumps to his feet faster than he fell down and roars like a crazed bull. He goes ballistic as he throws punches with enough force to crack concrete. The rage that engulfs him clouds his focus and turns his normally deadly, precise blows into ones I easily deflect. After a few grazed hits, I have enough; I catch his flailing arm, force it down, and drive my fist into his jaw like a semi. I grab his throat as my adrenaline-filled muscles life his weightless body and slam it down onto a desk.

         Rage fills my body as tears fall down my cheeks. âHow dare you act like this!â I cry. âYou stupid, ignorant fool! You let rage from his death control you after he is the very one who taught us to never give in to anger? You shit on his grave as you take each lesson he painstakingly taught us and burn it. Every breath you take, every time you blink, every time your goddamn heart beats is an insult to him!â My grip around his throat tightens as he gasps for air. âThe worst of all is that you dare be so selfish as to think you are the only one who suffers from his death. You, the only one I love, abandons me to fill your own pitiful needs in a time where we should be closer than ever. You are a disgrace!â I release his throat and he rolls off the desk, coughing desperately for air.

         Tears running uncontrollably down my face, I burst out of the classroom and into the silent hallway. I face the lockers and begin punching one over and over again, crippling its metal, until the only thing I could feel is warm blood running down my arm. I fall to the ground crying, putting my heavy head on my knees. I look up to see my bruised brother shuffling toward me.

         âIâm sorry, brother,â he mumbles as tears form in his eyes. He collapses to the ground as the dam brakes and those tears come flooding out. âI am so sorry, James. Please forgive me,â he weeps. The broken boy falls into my arms and I embrace him, holding him harder than I possibly could. It was there, lying on the cold ground under a crippled locker, that two brothers stayed to finally accept the passing of their mentor.