Mid-Term Break – Adaption from poem to story

There are times in your life when you feel like nothing matters anymore, like nothing has a purpose… Sometimes even the strongest people in your life can be easily broken by something horrific and they can never properly seem to stand on their own two feet again, they don’t see the world as they used to, especially if it’s not supposed to happen.

I’m sitting on the old bed in the college sick bay waiting, waiting for my neighbours to come and pick me up, I can feel myself shaking, and there is a growing gnawing feeling in my heart, I can’t believe what I had just been told, I only really half listened to the words the nurse was saying when she explained to me what had happened, I started to cry when she was talking, I wanted to drown out her voice and pretend none of this was happening, but I couldn’t no matter how hard I tried, my four year old brother was dead, he got knocked over by a car and there was nothing I could do about it.

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My innocent little brother, the one who loves to play with me and tell me silly jokes, he will never get to live a full life. Because of this I knew that my parents would be grieving for the rest of their lives. At two o’clock my neighbours walked in and greeted me with a sad “hello”. I’m guessing they didn’t really have anything else to say. I sat silently in the car as they drove me back to my house, when I arrived I saw my father on his knees, crying, as if he was praying to god to bring back the son that he cherished. I was shocked, it was unusual to see my father crying with such emotion, and he never cries.

He has always the strong one, the one we could lean on, almost at once I wanted to comfort him but I felt myself having to hold back more tears I knew would come if I tried. I walked past him and went into the house, I was met first by my baby brother who laughed and cooed in his pram like nothing had ever happened, I loved him for that, his innocence and the fact that he didn’t know anything was wrong. In the living room to the left of the front door, strangers stood up and greeted me with a handshake or a hug they told me they were “sorry for my trouble”, I felt embarrassed and anxious, I wasn’t used to all of this.

My mother was in the small kitchen straight in front of the living room, she looked angry, she wasn’t crying, she came up to me and took my hand in hers, I could tell she was glad I was back after being away at school so long. At ten o’clock, the ambulance brought the body from hospital, everybody greeted it with sadness, the people from the ambulance, they put my brother upstairs in his old room, and they moved his cot and instead put his coffin there instead.

The next morning I went into his room, snowdrops and candles soothed the bedside, I saw him for the first time in six weeks, he looked so peaceful, my heart dropped and I started to cry again. I felt so horrible that I was away when this happened. I sat down next to his tiny four-foot box, there was a lump in my throat, he was so pale, he was usually filled with laughter and happiness, he was wearing a poppy bruise on his left temple; I can’t believe that is the only thing that took his life away. I spent the next time hours next to my brother; I played with his hair and whispered in his ear that “everything would be all right”.

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