Sixteen

Marcus stood still, waiting for the pain to hit him as the smoke of the pistol hung thick in the air. The shot still rang through his ears like a cannon blast.

But no pain came. No blood. Nothing.

Instead, blood coated Matthew’s chest as his face drained of color. His brother looked down at the red liquid soaking his clothes, and then lifted weary eyes to Marcus. Matthew’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly as bewilderment filled his eyes.

Marcus reached for his brother just as he collapsed to the floor. Marcus opened his mouth to speak, but words didn’t come. Indeed, there wasn’t anything to say to the man who just tried to kill him. Slowly,