My Brother Sam is Dead

*Two months later*

The windows shuddered and fences rattled at the gusts of wind. Rain splattered upon the windows. The dark night could pierce one’s soul with a single strike. I sat stirring my soup, not appetizer as I had been for the past few months.

“Quit playing with your food, boy!” I looked up to see my father’s eyes beaming into mine. I took a spoonful of my stew placing it into my mouth and swallowing. “There you go.” He smiled. I simply grinned back. Everything was always boring without Sam. Yes, there was less fighting, but there nights without him seemed to always lack something. I just sat there thinking of Sam. I imagined all the things he was doing. Shooting people down, meeting women, getting drunk almost every night. Of course, I’d never tell father.

My thoughts got interrupted with a knock on the door. “Well, aren’t you gonna get it?” My father questioned me staring in my direction. I glanced to my mother, then back to my father, “Yes, sir.” I replied solemnly walking to the door. With a tug, the wisps of wind blew the door open, and in came a man in a black suit. “Hello,” he began, “I’m am so very sorry to inform you… your bother, son, accomplice, family member-“

“The point sir, while were still young?” I asked. My father shot me a glare.

“Okay,” the man said looking down at me, “Sam is dead.”

“W-what?” I managed to croak out.

“Your brother Sam is dead.” He said standing beside me.

“You’re lying. He’s not dead.” I muttered staring at the floor.

“Pardon?” the man asked.

“I said he’s not dead! You’re lying!”

“Timmy!” my dad rose from his seat, “shut the door and sit down! I won’t any back sass from you tonight, and I sure as hell am not ” I didn’t argue and I did as I was told. I know he had to be lying. He had to be. Sam was… extraordinary, the best solider I’d ever met.

The world seemed to stop as I felt my world shift. I sat with my tears waiting, threatening to fall from my eyes. Sam was…. Dead? No, no he couldn’t be. That’s impossible. He’s amazing at what he does. He would take crap from anyone.

“I’m truly sorry, sir.” The man said, “I’ll leave you folks alone.” With a tip of his hat he was out the door into the pouring rain.

“I warned him. No one can compare to our mighty soldiers. We’re the best in the world.” Father stated firmly.

“So you don’t even care?” I questioned him.

He shot daggers into my eyes. “Of course I care. He’s my boy,” he said looking down playing food, “It’s just… its better now and someone else than me.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

My mother patted father’s back comfortingly. “I’m going to be going off to war. You need to be the man of the house and look after your mother.”

“When were you gonna tell me?”

“Soon.”

“but-“

“Just eat your food.” I did what I was told.

“You know,” My father began, “You could be off in war too. You’re getting there in age.” I looked around the room trying to fixate on what to say next. “Or you can stay and care for your mother.” He suggested once again.

“I’ll think about it.” I said, plastering a smirk on my face. And that I did. When my father set off for war I said my goodbyes to him and then to my mother when there was absolution had gone. Following in my brother’s footsteps, I set off for freedom and independence from the British and the daily dictations of my father.