Playing Games

We were driving down I-95 on our way to Disney World. Yeah, it was a typical family trip, with my parents in the front seats and my little brother and I in the back. Even though I had my headphones on, I could hear the sound of his 3DS over my music. I pulled an earbud out of my ear and turned to him.

“Johnny, can’t you turn that down? I can hear it even with my headphones in.”

He glared at me. “It’s a boss level. I have to be able to hear it so I can beat him.”

My mom turned around from the front passenger seat and smiled at me. “Emma, can’t you just turn your music up a little bit? You know the music helps your brother concentrate.”

Yes, of course. Everything was about my little brother. It always was. He was diagnosed Autistic a few years ago, and now he gets to get away with everything. It just wasn’t fair.

“But mom,” I whined, shooting a death glare at my brother. “My music is already almost too loud. Can’t he just turn it down a little bit?”

“Be considerate. You know it helps him stay calm,” my mom said, turning back around.

I huffed and put my earbud back in. I turned the volume up as loud as I could, blaring Evanescence into my ears to wash out the sound of Zelda. At the same time, I was updating my Twitter for the tenth time today. This post read:

“Bored out of my mind. Brother annoying as always. When will this be over? #bored #annoying #littlebrothers”

I jumped at a loud cry from my brother. I took my earbud out of my ear again.

“Dude, seriously? Mom, do something.”

My mom turned around and gave me a look. The “mom” look. “Emma, you will just have to deal with it and be patie—–”

All I heard next was a screech of tires and my dad yelling “Oh shit!” We hit the back of the semi-trailer. I was wearing my seat belt, but my face slammed into the back of the driver’s side seat. I felt a secondary hit from behind as we were rear-ended. I felt the space where my legs were getting smaller as the car compacted. Once the noises stopped, I blinked and looked around. I could feel blood running down my head and a pain in my arm. I looked down at it and saw that it was bent at an odd angle; broken, then. My mom’s hair was covering her face, but I could see her moving a little. My dad groaned and turned around to look at us.

“Everyone okay?” he asked.

I replied, “I’m fine. Johnny, how are y…..”

I turned to look at my little brother, whose eyes were glassy and open. His head was tilted at an unnatural angle, his 3DS on the floor of the car with its music blaring. I reach over and nudge his shoulder.

“Johnny?” I said, my eyes tearing up and my voice going all wobbly. “Johnny, buddy, you okay? Talk to me. Johnny?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t blink. He didn’t stick his tongue out at me like he normally would. He was gone. I felt like I was five years old again, scared out of my wits.

“Mommy… “ I said, tears streaming down my face as I looked back at my mom. “He’s not answering.”

My mom undid her seatbelt and turned fully around in her chair. I gasped as I saw a piece of her leg bone sticking out from under her jeans. She didn’t seem to care as she reached over and nudged Johnny.

“Johnny, sweetie, this isn’t funny. Sweetie, look at mommy.”

He still didn’t answer. He still didn’t blink. This wasn’t one of his games. He wasn’t playing around. He was… I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t admit it. Part of me wished that this was one of his video games and you get extra lives. I wanted him to pop up with a smile, telling us that he was tricking us. But he didn’t. He didn’t move. Wouldn’t move. Not ever again. My baby brother was gone.