Chapter 4
605 Words
Blaise Taylor
The scream belonged to my dad, something that I thought I would never hear from him.
I rushed to my feet and clambered out of my room to locate where the screaming was coming from. My eyes searched until landing upon my brother's room.
I was overwhelmed with an unbelievably fright for my brother's life and as more screams filled the house, I noticed they were laced with cries, rather than anger.
I reached my brother's room and stood in the door frame as I looked upon the scene before me, the sight instantly brought tears to my eyes. My tears stung my face as they rolled down my cheek.
My brother lay on his bed as though in a slumber but my dad was kneeling next to him. He was clutching Jordan's head in his hands while tears streamed down his face, falling onto Jordan.
My brother's body was limp, his chest was still, and his once white bed was now stained a scarlet red.
I edged closer, a part of me resisting my movement as I went.
The closer I got, the more I was able to see, Jordan's eyes were not shut as though in peace, instead they were wide open and glassed over. His face once warm with a constant smile and blush, was now cold and traumatically contorted, he looked as though he was frozen in a horrific scream.
He was dead. He died painfully, terrified for his life and all alone.
Tears now poured down my face while loud sobs screamed out of my mouth. I dropped to my knees, clutching my throat as it felt like I was unable to breath. My actions pulled the attention of my father, who for once did not look at me with anger or disgust but with sadness and emptiness. He gently lay Jordan down as though he was made of glass and got off the bed.
He blankly looked at me and with a broke voice he lightly whispered.
"Jordan is dead and it's my fault, I brought a boy here and he escaped. He killed Jordan."
My mind began to fill with hatred, anger and guilt. I knew it was my fault that my brother was dead. I trusted that boy, I trusted Aidan. I trusted that someone in this world was good and he abused that trust. He took my childish hope and stamped out that light after he used me to brutally murder my brother.
My dad interrupted my thoughts, “It’s just me and you now Blaise. You are the new heir to the English Mafia!"
I furrowed my brows as his words puzzled me.
"You begin training right away!"
And with that statement, he turned on his heels and walked sternly out of the room, already finished with his grieving.
I felt weak, my head pounding as I tried to scream in grief for my brother but nothing came out. I was so alone, losing everyone that loved me. It was my fault, I killed him. I climbed onto my brother's bed and lay curled up next to Jordan. Silently sobbing as I realised all the things I would never see or hear again, all the things that he wouldn't be there for as I grew up and that I had never felt more alone.
I sat next to his body hoping that if I willed hard enough, he would breathe again. But it was all out of my control, I couldn't help and so it was then that I made a vow to myself.
A vow not be weak ever again.
- Writer
