Blood Brothers

His death was painfully slow. So slow, in fact, that he could see every single speck of his killer’s features, as his eyes slowly started to become blurry. His brother’s eyes. The colour of dark, dark coal. His friend’s hair. The colour of a warm, dark brown layered with what he could have described as light browns here and there. His killer’s lips. A pale rose tinted colour. The fact that those lips had folded back into a grin while his killer laughed maniacally had made him cry. Cry for his mother, his father, for someone to help him. The sad part is, his life was over and he could do nothing about it. Christopher Park stared down at his dying younger brother with a sick, twisted expression upon his face. Blackness wrapped around his semi conscious mind as some voices, shouting or was it whispering, Mitch Carter could not tell, telling him to hold on. To stay awake. That he’ll be okay and he’ll survive.

The last thing he saw, however, were red and blue blurring lights outside of the two brother’s house.

Shouts of, “Get on the ground!”

“Freeze!”

“Stop where you are!”

And then… another gunshot.