Brendan Dude

I slept like a log until 11 AM the next morning after finding my way home with the help of a gas station clerk. It was a Saturday, so I didn’t have school to worry about.

Still, something told me I should have worried anyway.

The house was dead silent, quieter than all the furniture circling in the living room. Mom, Dad, and Joey were huddled around on the couch, looking like we’d just been robbed.

“Brendan…” Mom whispered, motioning for me to come sit down with them. Instantly, I was pulled into their embraces, even Joey’s. I was scared because of all the attention, even if nobody said a word.

“David’s dead.”

Joey’s flat voice must have been heard for miles. Just like that, I cracked. I fell into them, crying and sobbing at the guilt that just started biting me last night.

It was my fault.

“Oh god…oh god…” I whimpered.

There I was, kicking myself for leaving David in his time of need. He needed me…and I left him.
The only person he still had faith in.

I’m a fucking idiot.

Joey ran out of the room like he was gonna be sick. I can’t say I didn’t feel the same.

“No…” Dad whispered, pulling Mom and me in his arms. We were all scared, all sad and traumatized at looking a member of the family we all loved, the oldest of our brotherhood, the oldest soul I ever knew.

And it was my fault he was dead.

I shouldn’t have left him. He loved us, and I knew he was in pain. He needed help, and that’s what I should have given him. He was hurting because he hurt others. No matter what he said, it couldn’t have been his fault all the time.

I wanted to show him that we loved him.

But it was too late.

David was gone.

And that…man, that was that.