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When I got my first graphic design client.
Moving into the guesthouse.
Meeting Deandra and Martell for the first time.
Getting my high school diploma with Vicky, Howard, and Lo there to celebrate.
Laughing with Lo in her car as she drove us to the movies.
The first time I met Vicky and Howard.
Sleeping over at Jojo’s and sneaking out into a fort we’d made in the backyard.
Laughing with little Ben.
My mom kissing me.
My mom holding me.
Christmas with Ben and my mom.
Ice cream with my mom and Ben.
Holding baby Ben.
When Ben was born.
My mom tucking me into bed.
My mom kissing me on the forehead.
My mom telling me she loved me.
Then the last one, which should’ve been my first happy memory, but it wasn’t.
I went back in time, to the one and only time my father showed that he loved me.
And I gasped, coming out on the other side, because movement shot past me and I watched as Brett ran past me, so fast. The bang had been him kicking open the front door behind me.
My brother couldn’t react in time.
The gun was knocked away, and Brett grabbed my brother around his chest, taking him with him, his momentum sending both of them out of the house through the back door. Brett rolled once with him before he launched my brother clear from the house.
I gasped, shoving to my feet. At some point I had fallen. My arm gave out and I fell down again, so I rolled, needing to see what happened.
Brett stood, standing between my brother and us, and even though Brett filled the doorway, there was a small opening where I could see my brother getting back up.
He started for Brett, and then bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Bullet after bullet hit Ben’s chest, his body jerking from the force. Whoever was shooting stopped, but Ben remained on his feet. His eyes were wild.
I already knew, having heard him, but there was no humanity left in him.
He took a step toward Brett, and the shooter unleashed more gunshots again.
Over and over again, Ben’s body jerked from each bullet as he took one more step, before finally falling to his knees, then stopping. He held himself there, somehow, and those crazed eyes looked past Brett, to me.
He was dying.
