I’m in a void.
A never ending void that has consumed everything and left me numb. Suspended in nothingness.

I see the mourners, the protestors, their tears, their cries. Their grief, disbelief, anger. Yet my mind, my soul, are cold and silent, like a grave. Nothing. Like the dead looking upon the living with no comprehension.

I still hear the voice asking mother to leave the door a wee bit open. I see the boy, hair blowing in the wind, face flushed, as we race. The man who stood at my wedding.
The man on the news, is not him. He cannot be. Could he?
What happened? Where did my brother go?

I want to tell them I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I did not know. Perhaps if I was less wrapped up in my own life I might have seen the signs. Perhaps I could have stopped him.
I’m sorry.
I want to tell them that we are all in the same hell; just dealing with different devils.

In response to the 135th challenge of Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.
Photo prompt provided by Elaine Farrington Johnson.

5 thoughts on “Brother

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