George sat on the
bed that was no longer
used
and stared at the wall.
He stared,
and stared,
and stared.
He dare not close his eyes,
for he feared the images that
frequently haunted
him would
come back.
Come back and
his sanity.
He didn't want to see those
eyes that were once
filled with life and energy,
empty and dead.
He thought that if he simply
stared,
didn't rest his tired eyes,
didn't sleep,
didn't even blink,
those images of that
horrible night
would just disappear.
Disappear like his joy,
his humor,
his will to live had
that night.
That night when his brother,
his business partner,
and his best friend had been
stolen away from him
all too soon.
The young man thought that if
these images of his own twin
crumbling to the ground,
the breath leaving his body
would just
stop, then maybe,
just maybe,
he wouldn't have to feel so
incredibly
empty
inside.