All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
The Only One Who Stayed
My brother's name was Hills Cameron. He didn't have a proper funeral, he didn't deserve a proper funeral. I was there when he died. I was the one who carried his body out of the building. I dragged him, him ankles hitting the ground, again and again, I hadn't been wearing shoes so I'd taken his and pulled them off. They were too big for me, I remember. After I set his dead body on the pavement - right next to my sister's - I looked down at my bloodstained hands and the blood seeping through Hills' shirt. I put my hands to my face, only later would I wash the blood away, I weep. This does little but harden the blood and make me feel muderous.
I didn't murder them. I know this is true. If it is the one thought I will ever have, it's okay because I know I am not a murderer. I didn't know who to call. But I sat and waited. I don't remember what for, probably for lightning to strike me down. My sister had the funeral she deserved. Hills' body was left there, on the pavement - for somebody else who didn't know his story. I came back to spot. I carried his body to the graveyard. I buried him, one shovelful of a dirt at a time.
It was the hardest thing I have ever done. It will be the hardest thing I will ever have to do. The reason being that thoughts kept coming back to me, Did I murder him? He would have deserved it. Hills was despicable. Amazingly so. I did murder him. No I didn't. Shut up.
It wasn't much of a redemtion. It didn't work. I'm still unsure. I never will know for sure. If I killed them or not. I guess that's what they'll label me - unure. Forever and always I'll be unsure.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 5 comments.
This is an excert from an epilogue I wrote. I hope you really understand the pain the main character is feeling.