Weekly Expressions 3.2 ~ CJK

The winter wind washed over Matt's face as the world below him grew small. And yet, the heat of his emotions numbed him to the weather. Why don't you quit messing around and make something of yourself? His Dad's words had stung worse than the elements surrounding him. Speeding through the snowy sky, Matt forced the helicopter into a flurry, shrouded in white. For a moment, he could see nothing and he almost forgot. 

Three years prior, he had said his last goodbye. His brother had pressed his lips together, attempting a weak smile, as Matt's blue eyes welled with tears. "Peter, no! It's ok. You're gonna be ok!!" Matt rushed to land the helicopter, guiding him out of the vehicle to a wooden fence, to better support him. The smell of blood reached Matt's nostrils. Peter grabbed ahold of the fence and Matt looked back at the helicopter, perched over a riverbed. This couldn't be happening. 

Matt swiped his hand over his face in an effort to combat the tears, but they kept coming. With blurry vision, he opened his brother's jacket, revealing a bullet wound in Peter's chest. He turned his face as more tears fell. 

"Matt, it's ok. It's ok, man," Peter said.

"No, it's not," Matt said. "They never should've drafted you. How dare they claim another life! ...I can't believe this."

He began to sob. 

"Matt, remember when Dad took us up on our first helicopter ride? You were so scared, but by the end you were begging him to go back up," Peter said, smiling weakly. 

Matt wiped his tears from his face. "But you weren't afraid," Matt said. "You were smiling the whole time, even when Dad almost lost control of the copter."

Peter laughed. "We really did almost crash too."

The winter wind filled Matt's ears as the brothers fell silent. 

"I wish this was just a close-call, like it was that day," Matt said. 

Me too. Peter paused and then said, "I love you, Matt." 

Matt began to sob again. "Please, Peter...don't go!!" He said. 

Peter struggled to breathe. Matt wrapped his arms around him. Then Peter said, almost in a whisper, "Keep living, brother." 

And then, he was gone. 

Matt started as the wind jostled the helicopter. But he quickly regained control of the vehicle, as he flew towards a sea of pine trees. How dare Dad say that to me...after everything I've been through. He didn't have to watch his brother die, Matt thought. 

After Peter died, Matt had resigned from the military. Night after night, he woke up in cold, teary sweats. At his factory job, a coworker insulted him for being discharged from the military. In mere moments, he had the man pressed up against the wall, his fist ready to strike. But when his boss entered the scene, his revenge and his career arrived at an abrupt end. 

Matt's face turned red with emotion as the helicopter sped on. From the air, he could see a silver creek snaking through the trees. When the woods began to thin out and a clearing of snow appeared, Matt lowered the copter, landing above the stream. He exited the vehicle and stepped out into the snow. 

Matt's body began to shake as he walked, yet he kept on. By that old wooden fence, he had placed a stone to mark Peter's grave. Slowly, he approached until his hands rested upon the cold stone. As the tears began to fall afresh, Matt fumbled through his pockets. He pulled out his dog tags and slung them over Peter's grave. 

I'm sorry, brother. I tried. 

The wind whistled past the river, picking up snow in its wake. Matt removed his shoes, setting them next to the stone slab. Next, he removed his socks, followed by his pants, underwear, coat, and shirt. He stared out at the frozen wasteland and bristled. Matt crunched through the snow as the wind stung his naked body. Yet, he trudged on, past the pines towards the frozen tundra. After walking for awhile, Matt lay down in the snow, face towards the sky, his body feeling ever warmer as the world turned from white to gray to black.