My name is DAVE STRIDER and it's a normal day for me. Just getting home after another beat down, another pair of broken shades, and two fresh cuts with blood dripping down my face. The bandages and neosporin are already out for me to use, which I do immediately, not noticing bro walk in before I get to the second cut, a bit deeper than the first. They had had knives this time, though I doubt they would've killed me.
A simple sigh says it all as he hugs me before helping fix my wounds. He knows what happens, yet can't fix it, and I know how much it must hurt him, to see his little bro come home everyday, new wounds and bruises littering his flesh. After the bandages were applied, covering the cuts that I used to take to show and tell, though never explain a back story, I went to my room, a hunger for rest drawing me to my bed and bumping me into my nightstand. The sheets were warm in the moments before rest, and I hoped that my dreams would be better than this hell.
DAVESPRITE
Remember me, please, I hate this. Floating, never being able to stay in one place, having all the knowledge I would ever need yet never using it. This sword in me is only a reminder of a dead brother that will haunt me for reasons or cowardice and fear. These wings will caw the memories of a dead bird the was one of my first key notes in my love of Jade. These shades will only tell me that I must hide my face, for the horror of the past hate of your red eyes is still raw and recent, though my eyes match our brothers. You will remember. I will not be alone in this sorrow.
A layer of sweat covered my forehead after I stopped thrashing around from the nightmare that had been created by my mind. I guess I had screamed loud enough to alert Bro, seeing him half asleep on the side of the bed. I let him be, figuring just a few more hours of sleep would do us both good. The morning would come, the nightmare forgotten.