Sequel: I'm So Sorry ›
Joey
Joey
I remember it so clearly. The laughing of my brother as he drove us home from the party. We had been best friends since the moment we were conceived. We were only 3 minutes apart, him older. Josiah Mitchell and Echo Juliette Foster, born August 4, 1992.
I remember the crunch of the metal as that pick-up truck smashed into the side of us. Pinning me to the side of the car. I remember hearing his voice for the last time, asking me if I was okay, before I passed out. I remember waking up in a hospital with my mom crying in the corner, and my dad looking seriously at me. That’s when I found out Joey was dead. They’re only son was dead, and it was my fault. I had distracted him and he had ran a red light. His death was my fault. Of course, we were teenagers, coming home from a teenage party, so we had been drinking a bit.
Other than that, I don’t remember much. I can’t tell you what we were laughing about. I can’t tell you what was playing on the radio, but I’m sure it was a country station.
Mentioning country, there’s a song on the radio called “Joey” by Sugarland. And that song tells my pain. I didn’t know how much it could mean to me, but it is the truth.
The song says, and I quote “Were you sad? Were you scared? Did you whisper a prayer to be free? Was it quiet and cold? Was it light or too dark to see? Did you reach for me? Joey, I’m so sorry. Oh, can you hear me? Joey, I’m so sorry. Oh, can hear me? Joey, I’m soooo. Joey, I’m so sorry.” But it also says, “Do you know that with all I have left in my very last breath, I will call your name?” .
So this is for Joey. I’m so sorry big brother. You’re about to be six feet under because of me. Joey, I’m so sorry.
With that, I stepped down and ran out of the church. Away from my twin brothers dead body, away from my family. I ran away from the judgmental look of my father, and the glares from my grandmother. I ran away from my brother’s best friend, and his twin brother. I ran away from my little sister, my life as I knew it. I ran to the beach that me and Joey had spent our summers at since 8th grade. I fumbled with the case that held the gun that Joey had purchased and checked to see if anyone was there. Of course not, it was the middle of December and we lived in Michigan.
“Joey, I’m so sorry” I whispered, shaking.
I might have been drunk when I killed my brother, but I was 100% sober when I pulled the trigger.
I remember the crunch of the metal as that pick-up truck smashed into the side of us. Pinning me to the side of the car. I remember hearing his voice for the last time, asking me if I was okay, before I passed out. I remember waking up in a hospital with my mom crying in the corner, and my dad looking seriously at me. That’s when I found out Joey was dead. They’re only son was dead, and it was my fault. I had distracted him and he had ran a red light. His death was my fault. Of course, we were teenagers, coming home from a teenage party, so we had been drinking a bit.
Other than that, I don’t remember much. I can’t tell you what we were laughing about. I can’t tell you what was playing on the radio, but I’m sure it was a country station.
Mentioning country, there’s a song on the radio called “Joey” by Sugarland. And that song tells my pain. I didn’t know how much it could mean to me, but it is the truth.
The song says, and I quote “Were you sad? Were you scared? Did you whisper a prayer to be free? Was it quiet and cold? Was it light or too dark to see? Did you reach for me? Joey, I’m so sorry. Oh, can you hear me? Joey, I’m so sorry. Oh, can hear me? Joey, I’m soooo. Joey, I’m so sorry.” But it also says, “Do you know that with all I have left in my very last breath, I will call your name?” .
So this is for Joey. I’m so sorry big brother. You’re about to be six feet under because of me. Joey, I’m so sorry.
With that, I stepped down and ran out of the church. Away from my twin brothers dead body, away from my family. I ran away from the judgmental look of my father, and the glares from my grandmother. I ran away from my brother’s best friend, and his twin brother. I ran away from my little sister, my life as I knew it. I ran to the beach that me and Joey had spent our summers at since 8th grade. I fumbled with the case that held the gun that Joey had purchased and checked to see if anyone was there. Of course not, it was the middle of December and we lived in Michigan.
“Joey, I’m so sorry” I whispered, shaking.
I might have been drunk when I killed my brother, but I was 100% sober when I pulled the trigger.