I'm Sorry
I glanced at the clock on the sideboard. I was mentally counting down the hours that remained. I turned and glared at my brother.
He had arrived three days previously without warning. I couldn't wait for tomorrow. Tomorrow, it was Christmas Day. Tomorrow, he was leaving. He would of left sooner, but he wanted to have a 'family day', a day where he could catch up with our relatives. But for a hardworking, workaholic lawyer (who hadn't had a day off in three years) to suddenly arrive and stay off work was puzzling. Also, he had apparently been sending me a letter every fortnight for the past two years (none of which I'd ever seen) was slightly worrying.
All of a sudden my daydreaming was shattered like a piece of glass by the slamming of a door. My brother's seat was empty. It had to happen sometime in the visit. It wasn't like he was going to break his bad habits after three years. I leapt out of my chair; only pausing to find my coat in my hallway. I ran out of the door.
I followed the cobblestone river through the street. I felt like someone, or something, was watching me. That thought just made my legs move with even more speed, even longer strides. The buildings grew thinner as the woods came into view. Soon it was just a lone warehouse between me and the woods.
I slowed down as I walked past, trying to be as silent as possible. I moved through the woods-but the feeling still took over me. The feeling of fear. It tied an uncomfortably tight knot in the pit of my stomach. I raced towards the cottage, hoping that he had returned to his old haunt. Our old haunt. The graffiti that we'd done when we were children remained engraved in the trees. Old memories burst through and my hands trembled. The old wound was open again. Years of pointless healing. But I forgot all about that as soon as I saw him stepping towards the upstairs window. I smiled at him, but I guess my attempt looked more like a grimace. He scowled. He slowly beckoned me upstairs. It was the only thing I could do. I had to obey.
The stairs creaked, but eventually I reached the door that was ajar. I opened the door, but he wasn't there. I couldn't resist a peek out of the windows that let the only light in. I smiled, but it was wiped off of my face as soon as he spoke.
"I'm sorry we had to come here. I'm sorry about what I'm about to do. I'm sorry that you'll never know the full story."
I stared at him; speechless .That was the same speech that my father had made to my mother before he'd pushed her out of the same window-whilst we were watching as children. I had no time to scream before he pushed me.
As he walked past my broken body, he grimaced before saying the last words: "I'm sorry."
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