You think somehow you'll be prepared for it and deep down inside you've always known the way you live your life would inevitably bring you to this moment. Yet when you bust through the door with gun trained at his heart, when he looks over at you with the soul sucking blackness where his eyes should be, the world stands still.
You think somehow you should have been prepared for it but nothing quite makes sense anymore, never will make sense again. Your brother is not your brother anymore. He's morphed into this hideous thing that stands before you dripping the blood of the innocent onto the floor beside him from the tip of the blade that used to mean something. He's a puppet now. A hollowed out shell of the man you used to know and love and the fact that it's up to you to put him down should end you where you stand.
But you don't end, do you.
The universe hurtles forward beneath your feet and your brother clenches the blade tighter in his fists.
He lunges.
You squeeze.
But blackness always wins.