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Everyone's time came eventually- some sooner than others. You would look at the body of your brother on the ground. He lay motionless. Unseeing. His right hand was cut off, a look of horror on his face. You cried there, in the rain. You held him close, begging him to wake up. He wouldn't, he never would. You cried, cried with the parents who loved you dearly. You're at the funeral. And you cry on your friend's shoulder. Your friend holds you close. He's quiet. Quiet, quiet, quiet. You always wanted to ask him why he never spoke much. But you didn't. You were in your own turmoil. You couldn't care... It's been a month, and it still hurts. There has been no lead in the case. You won't leave his room. Your friend tries to drag you out. You refuse to move. And then three months have passed. Your friend sits in that room with you everyday. You never realized he cared much. A year then passed, and you vowed you would kill the son of a b***h who killed your brother. In the year, you've grown closer to you friend. You watch him blush when you brush your hand over his. You feel the air become different, but it just feels so right. You still remember your pain though. And you keep him at a distance. You're afraid of losing him too. He knows this. So he doesn't pressure you. But you can see it in his eyes. Two years pass, your both starting high school. Your studying together. You don't remember who initiates it, all you know is your on top, and your kissing him, and he's kissing back. You feel love again. Four years pass, and he starts talking of kids. Modern medicine could do that. Make even males pregnant. So you try with him. You're aiming for a child. You want to hold the small child close. Two more years pass, and your prayers are answered. He's pregnant with your child. Yours. You sit by him everyday. But things spiral out of control. The police come to your house. They say they have a break in the case. You're happy. You can kill that son of a b***h now! But they step pass you. You're confused. They walk in. They handcuff him. Your eyes widen, and you feel your stomach drop to your feet. He looks stunned, but a look of knowing follows his eyes. It's only a week, and his face is plastered all over the news. A child killer. Your angry. You want your revenge. You want him to pay, for making you love him.
He gets out of court. Not enough evidence. And you're waiting for him. He comes home. You see his stomach is a bit bigger. But you don't care. You approach him. You push him onto his back. He's surprised. He's yelling at you, to be careful of the baby. You ignore his screams, as you get on him, and you wrap your hands around his neck. He grabs onto your arms as you start to squeeze. He's kicking, trying to say something, as tears stream out of his eyes. You can tell he doesn't want to die. You scream it in his face. You mock him. You even release him to gain breath back, only to strangle him once again. It seems to be eternity, before he stops kicking, his grip loosening on your arm, the thin appendage falling to the ground. You've done it. You've killed him. You've killed the man who killed your brother. You go to the kitchen. You grab a knife. And the next thing you know, your thrusting it into his stomach in anger. But it doesn't last long, before you get up. You don't clean the blood off. You go out of the house.
And hours later, your running from the police in the forest. You stumble over a branch. You're tired, and you can't deal with this anymore. You close your eyes, waiting for them to capture you. You wake up the next morning. And you're lying in the street of a town. But it feel different. Off. But you don't care. Because the person standing next to you smiles at you. "Hello, Brother."