Same prompt as before:
A twenty year old male is sitting in his parents' drive trying to find the strength to tell them.....
Valuable Losses
“Oh MAN! How’re you gonna tell them? They’ll be really ticked. Dude, ALL your college money?”
“I won’t have to say anything. I can make it back. I just hit a rough spot.”
“Yeah, I guess. But you’re skidding out of control Bryan my man.”
“I’ll recover. I TOLD you. I know these guys who can help me.”
“Bry—guys like that will kill you. Don’t be stupid. Tell.”
“Shut up Scott. You don’t understand. You’ve never been there.”
“No, you’re right. Thank God. What happened man? Why didn’t you walk away?”
“It’s like I said; I was down a little so I borrowed. I went up but not fast enough, so I doubled and lost a couple of times. Then…”
“Enough. Look. I’m your brother but I won’t let you do this. You’re going to get killed.”
“Then loan me the money Scott.”
“No. I don’t have it and you know it. You have GOT to tell them.”
“No WAY Bro--how would that sound?! Mr. Valedictorian. Mr. MIT and math genius lost everything because he failed to count his pennies correctly.”
“Dude, you lost more than a few pennies. Fifty G’s is A LOT of friggin pennies. AND they were Mom and Dad’s pennies.”
“Shut up Scott.”
Anyone standing on or near the corner heard this argument. The twins stood nose to nose and went back and forth; cheeks flushed, snarling and snapping like wild dogs rather than brothers as each leaned in to ferociously make their point. When volume didn’t produce a victor, they jammed their hands in their pockets and stalked off together, towards home. The tension between them was scorching and people all around them moved away intuitively.
Now here he sat in this cab in their driveway. The engine hummed indifferently and the cabbie popped his gum to the rhythm of a song that wasn’t English. The air was stale like sweaty cigarettes and the meter just kept ticking away. Would they care about THIS in light of everything else? Probably not. The wipers swatted the raindrops away like an angry child smearing their tears. “Get. Out. Get. Out.” They thumped. He sighed heavily.
The boys had begun the walk home in silence but neither could keep still for long. The argument heated up once again. His brother just didn’t understand nor would he listen to reason. Of course since his brother was the secret favorite, he could do no wrong in his parents’ eyes and felt he knew best no matter the situation. He got around EVERYTHING somehow and always without a scratch. As they passed the old factory, tempers flared. They screamed and shoved at each other. They fought hard. His brother had nailed him in the gut then in the back sending him to the ground where he proceeded to break his nose and split his lip. He was getting his ass kicked. He didn’t see the board until that last second. He intended to just slow his brother down, wanting only to knock him off. The nail at the end of the board pierced his brother’s skull with a quilted crunching noise; like glass breaking inside a towel. His eyes rolled back and he crumpled to the ground instantly. There was no blood. Scrambling out from under his dead twin he panicked and snagged a cab to get home as quickly as possible.
He struggled to find the words to use. “I didn’t mean to.” “It was an accident.”
“Buddy—you in or you out?” the cabbie grumbled.
“I’m out.” Bryan said. He’d lost more than enough today.
