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Therapy Part One

Short story By: WJS
True confessions



just doing this for therapy not really to be read If you read please comment


Submitted:Apr 15, 2014    Reads: 15    Comments: 2    Likes: 1   


I still remember everything. I see it nearly everyday, or every night. This is to try to help me stop seeing it as much. Or just Stop seeing it forever. The events still haunt me and they will always be with me, but I wont let them control me anymore.

We walked home from the bus stop everyday. Nothing had ever happened before. Wed walk to the bus stop because our house was in a coldesac at the end of the road and that would be more gas for the bus to use. So we'd walk, my brother and me, about a quarter mile to and from the bus. Not that long of a distance but it was enough for us to complain when the weather was bad. So we got off the bus as usual. It wasnt a bad neighborhood, but there were one or two houses of ill repute. It was close to the bad part of town, but not in it so we should be safe. The bus let us out in the driveway of another person, we'd never seen the residents before even though we waited for the bus in their driveway everyday. We never did see them.

Walking down the road we saw the usual sights. There was no foreboding feeling or any of that other stuff you hear people talk about. There was no drama or sense of urgency because after all this is real life. We walked down the road saw the same houses the same trees with woods that seemed so deep but only let out into another part of the neighborhood. Then they came out of their car. There were usually cars parked in the road so this wasnt unusual, but what made this unusal was that these people were not old enough to drive. Still I kept walking, minding my own business. Something was said, I dont know what, and my brother stopped.

Me and my brother have always been close. At every new school, new neighborhood, and new house, we had each others back. We looked out and stood up for each other no matter what. We practically raised each other at times. We werent and still arent best friends or the kinda brothers that always hang out and get along, we fought each other, but noone else was allowed to touch the other. Wed see the other needed some help, wed go to his aid, and then wed return to our business when our duty to each other was done. Thats how we worked. So when he stopped naturally I stopped. More words were exchange, not many but still I paid no attention to what was said because I was looking at the two boys that stood before us. I was sizing them up.

One was older, by a year we later learned, then my brother. This would make him a freshman. He was a shade of brown with short black hair in cornrows. He was my brothers height and was muscular. He wore torn jeans, and no shirt. His pockets seemed to be carrying something large, wed later find out what they held.

The other was younger than my brother by a year putting him in the 7th grade. Two years older than me, I was in 5th grade at the time. But still, I had handled people his size before. He was taller than me but very skinny. He had similar cornrows and jeans but he wore a wife beater. Very stereotypical the two of them. I dont know why but I remember his shoes being brand new nikes, and that he wore no socks. Obviously he and his brother wernt from the good side of town. Looking back now their loyalty to each other was probably similar to me and my own brother. Maybe we arnt so different.

I was then snapped out of my thoughts by a quick movement. I dont know who lashed out first it was almost coordinated. But the next thing I know my brother and the older boy were on the ground fighting it out. So I do my brotherly duty and kick the older boy off of my brother. This of course leads to the younger boy jumping on my back and i fall backward to the ground. he quickly rolls me over though and punches into my face. After one hit I'm already bleeding from somewhere but when you fight you dont feel it. It just feels warm and you taste blood. I defend my self and use my legs to roll him back over and do the same to him. He finals seems to have given up so I stop aqnd look to my brother. What I see then is the same thing that I see everyday.

My brother. The one Id always defended, the one Id cover up anything for, the one who had always protected me, was lying on the ground. His attacker was on top of him, and had my brother by the shoulders. My brothers head was on the edge of a drainage inlet in the curb. He raised my brothers head up as he had been doing for I dont know how long, and he slammed it back down. My brothers eayes were closed. His head was open. And there was blood. Youve never seen this much blood unless youve seen a brotal murder or act of violence. You cant imagine the amount of blood that flowed into that inlet.

My first reaction is to run. At him. I run and spear him into the ground and am on top oof him. I didnt realize this at the time but something fell out of his pants. A common kitchen knife. I have him or the curb now, on top of him just as he had my brother. On the curb I raise his head up by the shoulders, then I force it into the concrete. Over and over again until his eyes shut. But I dont stop. It wasnt enough. Blood is everywhere now and theres no way of telling if it is my own his or my brothers. Then I feel something on the left side of my lower back. It goes in, then out, and in one more time. It feels warm. I reach behind me and feel the handle of the kitchen knife and uickly and stupidly pull it out. While falling down on my face I stab it into the thigh of my attacker. The last thing I see before I black out is him hobbling into the seemingly endless woods.





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