Page 12 of Penalty to the Heart

But it’s the absent sound of sirens in the distance that spurs me into action.

“ARGH!” I scream as I finally manage to undo the belt.

I wipe the disgusting vomit off my chin and open the car door, scrambling out of the car. My legs tremble as I rush to my brother’s side and open the door, my hands shaking as I reach out to touch him.

“Hold on, Jack,” I whisper, uncaring that my tears are now streaming down my cheeks.

I don’t dare look at the object perforating his body.

I refuse to see the blood and mayhem around us.

Instead, I grab his hand and focus on his pale face while the other calls nine-one-one.

It takes me less than a minute to tell the emergency operator to get an ambulance to us.

“Hold on, Jack. Help is on the way.”

My heart breaks into minuscule shards of glass when all my brother can do is blink, no longer having the strength to talk.

“Come on, Jack! Just hold on! Please!” I beg just as the familiar sound of a siren is heard in the distance. “See? Help is coming. It’s coming, Jack. All you have to do is hold on tight to me. Just hold on,” I plead, gripping his hand in mine. “Think of the girls. Think of Erin. Think of Cara and baby Fiona. Think of the little baby that you still haven’t met yet. They all need you. Just hold on. Just a little longer, Jack. Please.”

As the wail of the ambulance draws closer, the flashing lights cast an eerie glow on the scene. I collapse onto my knees, the reality of the situation crashing down on me like a ton of bricks. My brother—my closest companion—lies before me, his life slipping away with each labored breath.

And all I can do is beg.

Beg for him to hold on.

“Please, Jack! For me!” I cry. “Please don’t let go! Please!”

Tears stream down my face as I whisper a broken prayer for my brother, my voice hitching with such misery that I never knew a human being had the capacity to feel.

In this moment of despair and tragedy, all I can do is cling to his hand, just as I cling to the hope that somehow, someway, he’ll make it.

But when the light in his eyes disappears and his lids shut of their own accord, his hand slips away from mine, just as his life does.

I don’t even register when the ambulance arrives.

I don’t even question when they pull me away to tend to my brother.

I’m frozen in shock and grief, unable to do anything but watch helplessly as the paramedics rush in to try and save him.

But in my heart, I know it’s futile.

Because he let go of my hand.

He let go.

With a dying breath … he let go.

I wake up drenched in a cold sweat, the stench of death all around me.

It’s been like this every night since…

The dreams… they torture me.

They serve as a reminder.

A reminder that the wrong brother was behind the wheel that night.

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