My brother was a plain looking boy. He didn’t stand out much. He was an ordinary teenaged boy with an ordinary report card which reflected his ordinary school and after school life. He was so ordinary looking, that he blends in like a chameleon everywhere he goes. It was always a challenge to find him. Especially in crowds. Especially the mall.  Anyway he would  always walk home alone and with a plain face that just screamed, “Boring!” There really wasn’t much to say anything to describe him. He had a face, a head, and well… Limbs. He wore a dull gray polo shirt, beige khakis, and loafers. Although he was extremely monotonous, sometimes he made me very suspicious about his whereabouts when he is not around me. He had always come home late from his after school job as a library assistant. He had also come home with dirty clothes and bruises on his arms and occasionally his face. This happened to him for several months now. Every time I asked about what he was up to, he would smile and wink with those bruised eyes, “A secret, Sam. A secret.” I would always snort and walk away thinking that he was a klutz and badly needed friends. And a life. And maybe some more friends. But he was a kind and peace loving boy. He would never, ever harm anybody. The last person I would suspect of anything, really. Or at least that was what I thought of him.

His school was a mile away from mine. In the rural area. A place you really don’t want to go unless you like to smell cows that released their “gift” every two minutes. It was also a bit far, but I didn’t mind. I really wanted to know what he did after school. Perhaps I really shouldn’t have gone. But I was young then. Couldn’t tell a difference between a sour cream and cream cheese. Anyway, I searched for my brother as soon as I reached the broken sign with what it looked like their school mascot. I walked some more to see two beaten up teenaged boys. They were a little older than my brother. The boys also wore chains, leather, and crew cuts. They were the delinquents I heard from neighbors that knew our parents. I cautiously approached them and asked if they knew where my brother was. As soon as I said his name, the two faces slowly became pale. They morphed from fear to pain and then back to fear. They seemed terrified of my brother. It was rather odd. Suddenly I heard a cry. I quickly turned and headed toward the baseball field where a gang of delinquents were in a circle and silently watching something. I hid near the bushes to see what they were watching. I froze. My eyes widened and I began to shiver. Goosebumps appeared on my skin. I wanted to run. Away from the brutal and disturbing scene. But he was there. With his disheveled hair and dirty clothing. I wanted to run up to him, but my legs wouldn’t budge. They wouldn’t obey. My lungs were not working so well either. I was probably hyperventilating. But still, I cringed. My brother. My dull, boring brother. He was holding Dad’s military bayonet with his right hand. On the left, it was a boy’s neck. And on my brother’s face was a smile. A smile he would Always give me. It was a demented smile. I finally caught my breath and stood up. I ran. I didn’t look back. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.