My brother is the only person I can think about. It's sort of maddening, really. It's like I can't go a minute, no, one second without thinking about my dear, sweet brother. He's the dependable, strong, older brother archetype. I always want to spend time with him. I'm a year younger than him, so I have to wait outside his classroom after school ends. Sometimes, he tells me that he has plans with friends. At first, it only mildly bothered me. More recently, however, it started to p*** me off. My brother spent his time with such lowly, disgusting specimens of humanity. They were filth; constantly doing delinquent activities and lounging around like sloths. Brother's not like them at all. He's a moral, upstanding, beautiful example of a perfect citizen. He's hard working and responsible. Sometimes, when I'm really frustrated, I would ask Brother to push aside his plans with his friends to spend time with me. He always would. He's so caring. If you even suggest that I would take advantage of my brother's kindness for my own fortune, then I will cut your tongue out in a moment. My brother is a saint! Ahh, excuse me. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, Brother. He showed me a new game he bought recently. It's some story where this man is going through a castle and destroying demons with a whip. I find it silly, but Brother enjoys it, so I will too. I'm not very good at it, though; Brother has to help me every step of the way. At times, he rearranges my hands so I can do button combinations more easily, and those are my favorite moments. Yes, my brother's firm, warm hands placed on top of mine sends shivers up my spine. It's a moment I want to have last forever. But, sadly, those moments can't go on. It was some time after I discovered that my brother was doing foul things. Very foul things. He even earned the scornful eye of the school administration. I could not stand idly by and just let him continue. So, one day, after school, I visited my brother at the typical location of delinquents: the smoker's lot. It was an area by one of the parking lots where students were allowed to indulge in that horrendous addiction of smoking cigarettes. What did I see when I arrived? My brother, with a disgusting tar stick in his mouth. I stormed up to him and demanded he return home with me right that instant. He reluctantly agreed. I was so happy! I turned to walk away with him when I felt a sharp pain in the back of my head, which caused my world to vanish. When I came to, I was in the nurse's office. It turns out that I was hit in the back of the head with a bat. I could barely raise my head due to the pain. I did see my brother waiting for me, however. My heart rate increased from the joy. I remember the very first thing he said to me when I woke up. “That looked like it hurt. Then again, I swung as hard as I could this time.” Can you believe it? It's shocking, I know. My brother really does care for me! He used every ounce of his strength to inflict pain on me! I thanked him for the treat and told him I'd pay the debt. It was about two days later that I became healthy enough to stand properly. I was a little bit light-headed, but I could manage getting from class to class. I had a class with Brother, and I conveniently sat next to him. I would whisper sweet nothings to him all hour long. Eventually, he was so flustered that he stopped replying to him. I think that was after I told him what I was going to do to him in his sleep. Either way, I had only begun planning on paying my debt to him. He was going to get such a huge surprise; I couldn't wait to see the look in his eyes. When class was over, I followed him out the door. Directly after we exited the classroom, I gave him a nice kick to his rear. It knocked him over and sent his books flying. He turned and looked at me with such a beautiful face. I could just tell he was thanking me right before he lunged at me. We started fighting rather intensely. It was a happy minute. No, it was euphoric, really. Our compost farmer of a teacher stopped us and sent us to the deans. We were sentenced to some punishment that I can barely remember now. That's unimportant. At the end of the day, I waited for my brother like usual. He tried quickly shuffling away with the crowd, possibly to elude me. I caught up to him and asked where he was going at such a brisk pace. He told me it wasn't any of my business. I believe he also called me something. I seem to remember it being “s***head,” but I could be wrong. Either way, he pushed me away. I walked back up to him and rammed him into the wall. I told him that I was only looking out for my dear brother, but he wouldn't listen. Brother shoved me off and followed up with a punch to my jaw. It hurt. It was such an exquisite feeling! I did what any rational person would do: I took off my backpack and swung it at my brother. He caught it, but I punished him for doing so. In other words, I kicked him in the shin. Now, this next part is fuzzy for me, but I'll try to remember it well for you. I remember my brother dropping my backpack and punching me again. At this point, I stumbled back a bit and found myself with my back to the window. Brother rushed me and was about to beat me senseless. Now, I either sidestepped or did some sort of bizarre grab, but either way, my brother did not end up hitting me. No, instead, he hit the window. And exited it. This was the third story we were on, mind you. I tried reaching my hand out to save him, but to no avail. He fell and hit the ground. I screamed his name. I screamed for my brother. The agony was too much for me to bear, so I passed out. And now, you find me here on the stand. Now that I have given my testimony, might you be so kind as to allow me to sit?
December 16, 2010