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Description
You whimper, curling up into a tight ball, shuddering from a cold that isn't really there, only buried deep inside your heart. Your chest clenches in pain and you sob loudly, not being able to bear it any longer.

You jump to your feet, hitting the frame of the bed, hard. You can feel your pale skin bruise but you don't care at all, your pained curse going under between the whispers in your head.

He's dead.

They killed him, years ago.

You know his room is empty, it had been for years now.

Crying won't bring him back.

You lost everything dear to you, right?

Do you think he wanted to die?

You find yourself tripping down the stairs, being close to falling down with every step. You don't care about getting hurt. What matters is the stabbing, burning pain in your chest, your lungs, your burning throat.

Your lips are dry, tears streaming down your cheeks as you round the corner, begging to see the bag lying there on the floor, the blue one that is there every night.
It isn't.

A string of Nonono it can't be, don'tletitbetrue! left your lips as you scramble into a random pair of shoes, trembling hand going for the key hanging on the wall, your other one fumbling to get the door open.

You just run out, the freezing air hitting your skin going by unnoticed as you run towards the other, much older house, in which your grandma sleeps.

Next to the room of your eldest brother.

You only have one brother left now, the one who's never at home!

Shutupshutupshutup! you keep whining as you push the next door open right after unlocking it, stumbling down the next staircase, through the old kitchen, down the hallway…

Your hand grabs the doorknob, turning it, breath held…

Locked.

You instinctively know where the key is. Finding it even in the dark, you unlock the door, pushing it open haphazardly…

The room is dark, windows shut.

There's no computer to your left, no game packages piled up until just under the ceiling… The desk it completely empty, covered only by a thin layer of dust.

There's still a pile of computer magazines on one of the chairs and for a moment you're sure He's still alive, he can't be gone, no! but one look at the dates tells you…

After 1998 no one cared about buying new ones.

You know that he had every one of them, all the new ones as soon as they were printed.

There's no PS2 – his first one, because the second one is in your room – next to the desk, no jackets hanging in the corner to your right.

The bed is empty, only a mattress within the frame, one old blanket you always saw when you sat there, watching him play WoW, letting him make fun of you because he knows you hate spiders. He'd be always running through areas with lots of them, telling you something about gnomes beneath sheets and stuff like that only to make you laugh…

There are no books about programming on the shelves, the Happy Birthday cards nowhere to be seen and you are sure that there should be some kind of stuffed animal sitting there even though you don't remember what kind of…

The room's empty, no life, no belongings and – what hurts so much more than anything else – no older brother who looks at you with big eyes for storming in like that in the middle of the night.

You drop to your knees, burying your face in your hands. You feel the tears dripping down onto the floor.

They killed him, they really did, they didn't even know him…

Itwasjustfuntothem… The bastards were drunk and took my brother!

You can't hold back the scream, no longer. Not anymore, and the agony is tearing you apart even more as you yell your hate and pain and regret - I never told him how much I loved him and now he's gone and no chance to tell him anymore. I'msosorry… - out into the world.

You are glad when darkness finally envelopes you and you lose your consciousness completely. And only now do you notice that you cried and yelled and ran for hours, because a few sunrays are the last thing you see, streaming in even through the shutters…

You wake up in your bed, feeling ill and tired and not alive anymore because you can still feel the tracks of tears on your face and the pain of losing him.

You sit up, looking at your clock, seeing that it's only 7am yet. It's summer break but it doesn't feel like it and you remember that it never did with him coming over just at 7 in the morning to eat breakfast.

You never understood that he had to work during summer break and he always laughed at you…

You could bet that you hear faint voices from the kitchen but you are sure that you are wrong because the sounds are muffled as if the door was closed. It's only closed when he wants to eat and the cat is in the house, because he can't help but always give the little devil pieces of the brioche he always eats and then she doesn't calm down at all, almost crawling onto the table or his lap to get more.

And he always laughs and curses and hisses when she scratches him…

You feel strangely tired with all those memories washing over you at once. You only stand up because you don't want to sleep and dream of him again…

This time you go down the stairs instead of almost flying, no voices in your head, only the one that sounds as if it's coming from the kitchen.

You don't dare looking around the corner because you would surely break down upon not seeing the blue bag like the night before.

The door to the kitchen opens and your mum walks towards you, smiling as if everything was alright and he was still there and you only look after her as he leaves the house. The door opens again soon after, mum calling inside that you should look at something in one of the ads. Everything is painfully normal.

You only sigh, not wanting to go into the kitchen because it's the time when he would sit in there, feeding the cat instead of eat himself…

You still enter – and stop dead in your tracks, crying once again, this time because of joy.

Because everything – him dying, his room being empty, you sitting and the floor crying and yelling – was only a dream and is soon forgotten as you watch him, laughing because of the silly cat next to him, soon staring at you instead, asking why you are crying all of a sudden..

And you can't do anything then step up to him, hugging him close – and you don't remember having ever done that before – and sobbing:

I cry because I love you and you're here with me and mum and dad…

Description
You whimper, curling up into a tight ball, shuddering from a cold that isn't really there, only buried deep inside your heart. Your chest clenches in pain and you sob loudly, not being able to bear it any longer.

You jump to your feet, hitting the frame of the bed, hard. You can feel your pale skin bruise but you don't care at all, your pained curse going under between the whispers in your head.

He's dead.

They killed him, years ago.

You know his room is empty, it had been for years now.

Crying won't bring him back.

You lost everything dear to you, right?

Do you think he wanted to die?

You find yourself tripping down the stairs, being close to falling down with every step. You don't care about getting hurt. What matters is the stabbing, burning pain in your chest, your lungs, your burning throat.

Your lips are dry, tears streaming down your cheeks as you round the corner, begging to see the bag lying there on the floor, the blue one that is there every night.
It isn't.

A string of Nonono it can't be, don'tletitbetrue! left your lips as you scramble into a random pair of shoes, trembling hand going for the key hanging on the wall, your other one fumbling to get the door open.

You just run out, the freezing air hitting your skin going by unnoticed as you run towards the other, much older house, in which your grandma sleeps.

Next to the room of your eldest brother.

You only have one brother left now, the one who's never at home!

Shutupshutupshutup! you keep whining as you push the next door open right after unlocking it, stumbling down the next staircase, through the old kitchen, down the hallway…

Your hand grabs the doorknob, turning it, breath held…

Locked.

You instinctively know where the key is. Finding it even in the dark, you unlock the door, pushing it open haphazardly…

The room is dark, windows shut.

There's no computer to your left, no game packages piled up until just under the ceiling… The desk it completely empty, covered only by a thin layer of dust.

There's still a pile of computer magazines on one of the chairs and for a moment you're sure He's still alive, he can't be gone, no! but one look at the dates tells you…

After 1998 no one cared about buying new ones.

You know that he had every one of them, all the new ones as soon as they were printed.

There's no PS2 – his first one, because the second one is in your room – next to the desk, no jackets hanging in the corner to your right.

The bed is empty, only a mattress within the frame, one old blanket you always saw when you sat there, watching him play WoW, letting him make fun of you because he knows you hate spiders. He'd be always running through areas with lots of them, telling you something about gnomes beneath sheets and stuff like that only to make you laugh…

There are no books about programming on the shelves, the Happy Birthday cards nowhere to be seen and you are sure that there should be some kind of stuffed animal sitting there even though you don't remember what kind of…

The room's empty, no life, no belongings and – what hurts so much more than anything else – no older brother who looks at you with big eyes for storming in like that in the middle of the night.

You drop to your knees, burying your face in your hands. You feel the tears dripping down onto the floor.

They killed him, they really did, they didn't even know him…

Itwasjustfuntothem… The bastards were drunk and took my brother!

You can't hold back the scream, no longer. Not anymore, and the agony is tearing you apart even more as you yell your hate and pain and regret - I never told him how much I loved him and now he's gone and no chance to tell him anymore. I'msosorry… - out into the world.

You are glad when darkness finally envelopes you and you lose your consciousness completely. And only now do you notice that you cried and yelled and ran for hours, because a few sunrays are the last thing you see, streaming in even through the shutters…

You wake up in your bed, feeling ill and tired and not alive anymore because you can still feel the tracks of tears on your face and the pain of losing him.

You sit up, looking at your clock, seeing that it's only 7am yet. It's summer break but it doesn't feel like it and you remember that it never did with him coming over just at 7 in the morning to eat breakfast.

You never understood that he had to work during summer break and he always laughed at you…

You could bet that you hear faint voices from the kitchen but you are sure that you are wrong because the sounds are muffled as if the door was closed. It's only closed when he wants to eat and the cat is in the house, because he can't help but always give the little devil pieces of the brioche he always eats and then she doesn't calm down at all, almost crawling onto the table or his lap to get more.

And he always laughs and curses and hisses when she scratches him…

You feel strangely tired with all those memories washing over you at once. You only stand up because you don't want to sleep and dream of him again…

This time you go down the stairs instead of almost flying, no voices in your head, only the one that sounds as if it's coming from the kitchen.

You don't dare looking around the corner because you would surely break down upon not seeing the blue bag like the night before.

The door to the kitchen opens and your mum walks towards you, smiling as if everything was alright and he was still there and you only look after her as he leaves the house. The door opens again soon after, mum calling inside that you should look at something in one of the ads. Everything is painfully normal.

You only sigh, not wanting to go into the kitchen because it's the time when he would sit in there, feeding the cat instead of eat himself…

You still enter – and stop dead in your tracks, crying once again, this time because of joy.

Because everything – him dying, his room being empty, you sitting and the floor crying and yelling – was only a dream and is soon forgotten as you watch him, laughing because of the silly cat next to him, soon staring at you instead, asking why you are crying all of a sudden..

And you can't do anything then step up to him, hugging him close – and you don't remember having ever done that before – and sobbing:

I cry because I love you and you're here with me and mum and dad…