I murdered my older brother
About two years ago i did something i regret every second of my life. I killed the only person who was kind to me, cared about me, loved me.
I was looking into the busy street...wondering if i would be better off dead. I saw a big blue truck come charging down the road and all i could think was: "Can i finally escape?"
As i stepped into the street, ready to be killed. Put out of my misery by the blue truck...my big brother....took my place instead. He shoved me out of the way, yelling my name. I sprained my wrist and cut my knees...and there was yell and crash. I was terrified, looking over. My brother...the one person who truly cared...bleeding, dying, broken on the ground. I was in too much shock to much shock to move. I just stared at him....questioning if it was real. I didn't cry. Or scream. Or call his name. Just stared at him, horrified. The driver had gotten out of his car to rush both of us to the hospital. My brother died as i held his hand in the car. He had no final words. Didn't hold my hand back. Didn't look at me. And he died. If i hadn't stepped into that street so selfishly...my amazing, beloved older brother would be alive. Raising his daughter. Proposing to the love if his life. Making everyone smile. I didn't talk to anyone for three and a half months...i never cried...because i murdered him...and no matter how many f****** tears i shed for him...i know he'd never forgive me.