Cry of Brokenness

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
There are images that I just can't get out of my head. This represents one of those images. It is the description of the moment a brother's death hits his sister.

Submitted: March 18, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 18, 2012



Scream.  I just need to scream.  If I can’t that means it’s not real.


“NOOOOO!” The sound echoed.  I couldn’t tell for sure if it was me who screamed or if it was someone else.  But I could hear it.  Over and over.  The cry of brokenness.


The air reverberated with pain.  My thought processes finally caught up with my mouth.  That scream was mine. 


I felt my soul ripping away from my body, getting as far away as it could before the darkness closed in and took over.  Fuck.  This is real.


I collapsed, but someone caught me.  It really didn’t matter.  I couldn’t have possibly felt any more pain than I already did.  At least if I would have fallen I might have hit my head and been able to pass out or something.


As he pulled me back up I realized Cory caught me.  I suppose it’s kind of ironic he saved me from physical pain.  My boyfriend/protector.  Ha.  Ha.  Ha.  He’d been pushing me over emotional cliffs for months now.  I doubt this catch was any sign of actual caring.  It was probably just a reflex.


“Are you ok?”  asked Cory.  Ok, so I guess he’s trying to care.  Maybe.  But that’s a stupid, stupid question.


“My brother just died, do I look ok?  No, NO, NO!  I’m not ok,” I snarled.


“But are you ok?  Do you need to sit down?”


Ugly, pitiful sobs kept me from answering out loud, so I just shook my head no.


I need my brother, I need this to not be real, I need my brain to stop thinking horrible things.  I need a million different things, but I don’t need to sit down. 


Cory wrapped his arms around me.  I was weak.  I gave in and cried into his shirt, not caring how much he had hurt me just hours before.  He’s here now.  I need him and he’s here.  That’s all that matters.

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