The cold, crushing truth was, he was dead.
Cold settled around my heart. .
People became just shapes and shadows and vague noises.
God! Make it not true! Make a miracle happen!
And another day arrives. Another day with no miracle. And another.
I drank. I fucked. I hunted and killed.
It made no difference though, because nothing helped.
My brother was in hell and it was my fault.
Was a miracle too much to ask? After everything?
Then – when all hope and faith had been eaten away - there he was.
Dean.
Oh God! Don't let him find out!