THE WRONG BROTHER
Why wasn't it ME?
Day after day, this thought plagues my mind. Why was I the one to stay at home that night? Tucked up in bed, whilst you went out to scour the woods for our sister and her friend. Why couldn't it have been ME who didn't return that morning? You would have handled the situation of the aftermath better, you always do.
You would have been able to calm Mum down when you found me, lying motionless amongst the leaves. Would have known the right things to say, instead of merely weeping like I did. You could have provided comfort, which is not a forte of mine.
I can recall the first time I saw you in the hospital. Lying on a bed, clad in an itchy gown, with numerous doctors bending over you. Examination upon examination with no evident results. The doctor telling Mum that they had no indication of how you will do, and that it was up to you to decide whether to live or to…. Die.
That night after you had been found, I couldn't get to sleep. The bedroom felt so empty and I was terrified of falling asleep as, what if you were outside the house? Ringing on the doorbell, calling to be let in. No one would open the door as we would all be fast asleep and you would leave, never to return again.
SPLAT came the other day. We were all shocked, having forgotten about them coming because of what had happened to you. Though, they have helped. Distracted me from dwelling on the worst case scenario. Involved me in activities that made my mind not linger on the image of your motionless form, lying in a hospital bed.
In a coma.
Yet, no one can provide relief from the thoughts that haunt me at night.
'Whywasn'titme?Whywasn'titme?Whywasn'titme?'
This mantra repeats over and over, drilling into my brain until I wish that we could swap places. I ask why you were mysteriously taken ill instead of me. Me, the wimp. Me, the baby. The pathetic weakling. Yes, I am Immune against the Headmaster's hypnosis and the Octopus, but apart from that?
I am useless.
I sometimes fret that the others think of me how Jeff did. I think that Rose does. Out the corner of my eye, I've noticed her sneering at me. And I don't blame her. Everyone knows that weakness is associated with me.
Harvey James Hunter. That is what the board clipped to the hospital bed you currently lay on should read. Not Lloyd William Hunter. I am sure that if you were in my place that Mum would not be so frantic with worry. As well as being comforted a lot better, she would not be so disturbed or heartbroken if she lost a child.
After all, she would only be losing her youngest. Her weakest. Her second best son.
Why wasn't it me? No… seriously why?!
You are the strong one. The one who leads us. Who led us to overthrow the Headmaster, not once, but TWICE. If you hadn't have forced me and Ingrid to come along to the Tower, then the Headmaster would be running the country right now.
And if you hadn't have enforced us to keep our heads down at school when the Demon was in charge, then we would have been in so much more shit.
I love you, big brother. And if you don't come out of this coma, then I won't EVER know what to do. I would never be able to lead SPLAT. I'm too thick to do so. I know if you die, then everyone will blame me.
WHY WASN'T IT YOU?! They would cry. Mum would blame me and Dad too, for being robbed of their favourite and better son. Dinah would blame me for having her better, more talented and more skilled brother stolen away from her. Ian and Mandy would blame me for being left without a leader, without a great friend.
And Ingrid… she would most probably declare her love for YOU and state that she only went out with the shittier offering, because you weren't interested in her in that way.
I don't know what the HELL to do if the Demon Headmaster ever comes back. Probably hide away and cry. I always used to do that after school when Jeff had tormented me. I know I should grow up, I'm almost twelve for goodness sake!
Why wasn't it me?
I question this as I stare at your form. Your motionless form. The steady rise and fall of your chest is the only indication that you are still among us. Clasping your cold hand in mine. Can you feel it, big brother?
I swear you just squeezed my hand.
But obviously not. That is me hallucinating. We both know what is going to happen. One day, a few weeks down the line, you will wake up, surrounded by your friends and family. You will cry out in joy and exclaim:
"Mum! Dad!"
Hug and kiss them, then turn to Dinah.
"Di!"
Hug her, then onto Ian.
"Ian! My man!"
Pull him into a friendly hug, before going onto Mandy.
"Mandy! Oh, don't cry! I'm alright!"
You would pat her back as she sobbed into your shoulder, shooting her a reassuring smile for her to see. Then onto Ingrid.
"Ing!" You would fist bump her, maybe provide her with a noogie. Either way, you would be thrilled to see my girlfriend.
You would probably smile at Rose and Simon in a polite manner, if they were there. But we all know what is going to happen when you catch sight of me.
A frown lines your features, eyes screwed up in fury. You would flick your gaze up and down my form, then sneer words which are true. True, but they still break my heart.
"Why wasn't it you?!"
Fin.
