"Sam's gone. He's gone. I'm not even sure if he's still my brother anymore. If he ever was."
And, as nonchalant as the mask that covers your face is, you can feel your real face cracking as you say it. You can feel it ripping itself to shreds, falling apart, imploding, exploding, dying.
Because you are, you're dying.
You always knew this day would come. The day where you had to forsake your own flesh-and-blood. You always prayed that you would die first. But you always had a hunch that you wouldn't.
You never thought dying would be like this.