They were one of those strange siblings; they looked so alike, yet so different. Maybe it was the fact that the brother of the duo had dark, messy brown hair, while his sister had lucious locks of strawberry blonde.
They were always together. Never apart. They shared the same bedroom at home, were always in the same class. They even sat together and refused to move, to talk to others.
That was, until it happened.
xxXxx
I can't go into details, people. It's hard. So, so hard. But you really do want to know, don't you? I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in your body language, the way you subconciously lean forwards, how your fingers stop tapping, how you stare at me.
Fine. I'll tell you. But it isn't one of those stories that warms your heart. This is sad. More than sad, even. I don't have any words to describe it to you.
xxXxx
We were, as always, seated next to each other at the back of the science classroom. Our hands occasionally brushed as we copied down the notes from the board on Carboxylic Acids.
I understood it immediately. This was organic chemistry, something I could understand. Unlike my brother. Well, I could always help him with it later, like he helped me with maths. I hated maths. Terrible subject, it was.
The lesson passed quickly, and we moved on to RE. But, as we only had one lesson ever two weeks, we hadn't sat the exam in December, and were working on a project on whatever subject we wanted. We would get a certificate at the end of the course instead of a GCSE grade. I was doing my project on torture and Extraordinary Rendition. Morbid, I know. My brother was focusing on Euthanasia. Yeah, he was morbid too.
The tapping of the keys on the keyboard was soothing and a nice change from having to write out pages and pages with a pen until your wrist ached. Typing was so much easier and quicker. My brother loved it. He wanted a laptop for every lesson, but the school wouldn't let him.
And then we were standing outside in a patch of sunlight, chatting with a packet of crips in our hands after the school bell had gone. We were unaware.
They came up behind him, where I could see them. They were low, and there was about five or six of them. I never counted. I didn't see the need. But one wrapped his arm around my brother's neck, appling pressure so that he couldn't breath. The others began punching him while one held me back. I don't remember what I was saying, but I know that I was fighting to free myself and screaming as I saw him collaspe to the floor as they used their feet as weapons of choice. They smashed his face. Broke his ribs. Factured his skull.
Then they were gone. In the silence that followed, I ran to his side and fell over his body, weeping and still screaming. I could tell by the stillness of his body that he was gone. They'd murdered my brother, and I didn't know why.
xxXxx
At the day of the funeral, I stood by his white coffin, holding a small red tulip in my hands. He had always said that when he met the girl he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, he would give her one. It meant undying love.
As the coffin was lowered into the ground, salty tear tracks laced my face and fell onto the ground and the tulip as Because of You played in the background.
I was alone.
