I rolled my eyes. The neighbor’s kids were probably vandalizing again.
I was about to close my door and get back in bed, when I heard the officer speak.
“Mr. and Mrs. O’Connor?” He asked. He was young and nervous, obviously new to the police force.
“That’s us,” my dad ans
wered, “is there a problem?”
“It’s about your son, there’s been an accident. I’m so sorry to tell you this, but he didn’t make it.” His face was somber, eyes downcast.
My mom let out a piercing, soul-crushing wail, and started to fall. My dad’s arm held her upright.
But there was no one there to hold me up.
I crumbled to the floor, clutching at my chest.
I couldn’t breathe.
I was suffocating under the pressure.
He didn’t make it.
He was dead. My big brother—my best friend—was gone.
“I’m sorry,” I heard the officer say one more time before my dad closed the door. His cries soon joined the sound of my mother’s.
Tears streamed down my face, but my sobs were silent.
Graham was gone. In a matter of hours he’d been ripped from my life forever. I’d just seen him at dinner! We’d been talking about school and how I’d be cheering at the football game on Friday! He was telling me how proud he was of me!
Everything had been perfect! The way it was supposed to be!
Something like this wasn’t supposed to happen!
Graham was a senior! This was his last year! He was supposed to leave for college and study to be a lawyer like our dad!
He. Wasn’t. Supposed. To. Die.
None of this was supposed to happen.
My perfect life wasn’t supposed to explode like this.
But it did.
Over night, I went from having it all, to having nothing.
I watched my mom close herself off from everybody.
I watched my dad spend his every waking hour slaving over his job so he didn’t have to think about Graham, or mom, or even me.
I watched myself slowly spiral from a carefree happy girl, into a complete and utter cynic.
And I knew exactly who was to blame for everything.
Jude Brooks.