"Alex you haven't gone mad. I'm here little brother"

I can feel all my toes, I can taste my tongue and I can hear my brain. My eyes aren't working and my ears can still hear the gunshot echo into my chest. I don't think I can move right now, I don't even want to try it.

Things are happening to me, I'm not sure what. I don't know where I am. My body feels like a numb plane of existing, and if I am still alive, I do not want to know what death feels like.

"Ow." I think sometimes. I have no idea what time it is, I have no idea how much time has passed. There is an ache in my chest and it burns.

When I'm not thinking to myself, I'm sleeping and when I sleep I dream. When I dream I see Daniel. When I see Daniel I wake up. When I wake up I think to myself. How crazy am I? I was shot by my own father and even in my assumed comatose state of being, I cannot stop seeing, thinking about and dreaming that my dead brother is talking to me. If anyone could hear me they would think that I was crazy. People have already told me that I am crazy, this is not my fault. In no way shape or form did I choose this. I never saw this coming. I knew my father did not care for me, that he blamed me for Daniel's death. I did not choose this. My mother, my poor mother. Stuck, probably by his side again. I have not heard a voice I recognized since the screams.

Jack, where was he? Why wasn't he here? What happened to him? Jack JAck JAcK...

Morphine I assume. It's the drug of choice by those in pain. No one ever said life would be easy, not one person said anything about being shot by your own father. I want to know what happened to Jack. It's probably been hours since I last thought about him. Sleep is easy when you cannot do anything else. Sleep is also the pain in my chest. Jack could help me. Did he get shot too? Was he okay? I don't even know if I'm alive anymore. This all feels to fake to me. The pain was all to real, but I think so therefor I am. Right? Maybe? I don't know anymore.

Notes