He was slowly drifting away. I could feel it. I could see it. Every time I looked in his eyes, they got more and more empty. He wasn’t the same anymore. I don’t know if it was because of all of the drugs he took. It probably was. How do you tell your parents that you little brother is doing drugs? How do you tell them, that you found ecstasy in your 15 year old little brother’s room? Luckily for him I hadn’t told my parents. It was not my thing to say. It was his.
It was a Wednesday. I couldn’t eat my breakfast. I couldn’t eat anything. At this point I found food disgusting. My thoughts were flying around in my head. My mother stood in her pink bathrobe and looked out of the kitchen window. By her worried facial expression I could see that Jake hadn’t come home yet. My dad was just reading the newspaper like nothing was wrong. The funny thing was though, that we all knew what the problem was. We just didn’t talk about it. Suddenly our front door slammed and a black hooded boy came storming through the kitchen. Jake had finally come home. He had probably been out all night, without telling my mother where he was and when he would come back. He went right to his room. After 15 really long seconds my farther laid the newspaper down, and went straight to Jake’s room. My mother didn’t say anything. She just stood there with tears in her eyes. A lot of noise came down from my brother’s room. While my father was up there I did as Jenny in Forrest Gump. I asked god to make me a bird, so I could fly far far away from here.
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