Nothing Left
Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies
"Oscar, please, no!" I scream in panic at my older, 18-year-old brother, trying to get him to lower the sharp, silver knife glistening moonlight above the streets of New York City. "You have so much to live for! Please don't do it Os," I beg using his old childhood nickname, "Please."
"What do I have to live for Morris?" Oscar asked me, tears threatening to spill down his face.
"Oscar you may not have much, but you have me! Think of all the times we've had together! Remember when we were kids? Going out into the lake by our summer house on the rowboat with mom? Racing each other to school? Playing tag with each other every afternoon after homework? Our late night talks on the fire escape? Os," I wispher quietly to him, "We can go back to what we were before dad and Wiesel and Synder. Just back to the two of us."
"No we can't Mo," Oscar said in a surprisingly calm tone.
"Yes we can Oscar," I replied in a calm tone. "Just trust me. We can quit our jobs at the distribution center, apologize to the newsies. There's better way Os. You don't have to do this!" I exclaimed.
My brother then slowly looks my 16-year-old self in the eye. "You're wrong Morris. I have to," he says, wet, tears rolling down his pale face.
"You don't have to!" I exclaim, "You don't have to do this. You have people who care about you here!"
"No I don't Morris!" Oscar yells at me, "Don't you get it? I just can't do this anymore! I can't pretend I'm alright while nothing is! Because guess what? Nothing is right! Dad killed mom, and left us with Uncle Wiesel! Wiesel has treated us like nothing but dirt! One wrong move, and we get hurt! I can't live like this anymore! I can't live with being mean to the newsies! I can't live knowing that almost every day, one of them is not out there because of us! I can't live hurting anyone anymore! I just can't! He hurts you when I do something wrong Morris! Do you why he always is beating on you? It's because I've done something to upset him! He knows hurting you hurts me! Wiesel has taken everything away from us! Every single thing we have ever loved! He has forced us to hurt innocent people. He's made us like… like dad," Oscar say barely above a whisper, "I don't want to be like him Morris. I'd rather be dead than like him. I'm sorry Mo, but I have to."
With that, my brother plunged the sharp knife into the center of his chest and fell to the ground, his eyes pale and missing life that they once had.
"Oscar," I whisper silently, hot, wet tears streaming down my face like a river.
I am alone. Oscar has left me. I have nothing left.