"Brother, younger brother…"
A most unusual event many would call it. My friends would say I was crazy from all the things I've said about him and how much both of us hate each other. That's why, when I thought my brother was dying, I was even a little surprised by my own reaction.
Naturally, when you get a phone call from your parents the last thing you expect is to hear that your brother is dying.
I almost dropped the phone.
For a few brief seconds I thought they were joking, but that wasn't like them. They would never joke about something like that. So I ended up getting a quick ride home that felt like an eternity. And when I walked in the door, I got a brief explanation.
He was poisoned.
Poisoned, I remember my initial reaction to that information. "Did he do something stupid and swallow cleaning fluid?"
All my mother did was glare at me for my commonly cynical response. "No, son," she replied between clenched teeth, suggesting her tension. "He was given the poison by someone whom he claims as an enemy. Poison control knows nothing about it, but your father went to get someone who he says knows about this particular poison."
I walked into the living room and found my brother lying on the couch and inquired, "Why hasn't he gone to the hospital?"
"He only has a few hours left," she continued on as if 'hospital' was foreign.
A few hours? She was becoming frantic with each passing second. I was about to walk away, there being nothing I could do, but to my surprise he called me back. At first, I thought he was joking, doing it simply to annoy me.
Then I remembered he was dying.
I suppose it was just hard to believe. My mind was working against it, filling my head with cynical thoughts and refusing to acknowledge that my brother could feel pain as I had before.
When I was close enough, he tried to tell me something. I quieted him, urging him not to speak or move so the poison wouldn't travel faster. I held his hand just to reassure him.
I can't truly say who felt more comforted by it. Perhaps just my mom for she appeared to approve and be glad for it.
When the door burst open, I saw my father and a man, a doctor I'd seen before. He worked with my dad before so I figured he must've been the one who had knowledge of the poison my brother had swallowed. "There is an antidote I am familiar with that should counter the poison," he stated.
My mother was put of by that. "Should?"
"There is always a one percent chance of the antidote failing or him running out of time, but that's highly unlikely as of now since the poison is slow acting."
I nodded, understanding that he would most likely survive but something kept a hold of my hand.
I never heard him say that before, particularly in that tone. For once, his tone wasn't sarcastic or resenting. That tone compelled me to stay there and wait with him until the doctor gave him the antidote. Once the doctor injected the antidote, his grip loosened and he slipped out of consciousness, sleeping from the strength of the cure.
Based on a want to use a poison scene and a sibling scene. I combined the two and this appeared. Feedback welcome.