Alright, I have a story to tell then. I hope that this helps you, because it'll honestly be helpful for me.

About three years ago, my life honestly came to an end. Not in the faggoty, "I am so ronery guys" way, but I am truly ruined for life.

I used to be your average /a/non I suppose. I wasn't exactly popular, with only a few close friends to speak of. I didn't have many hobbies outside of anime and video games. I thought that I was tough shit still though, so great that I was superior to everyone whom I didn't deem worthy of my time. I thought that everything I did had some profound effect on my surroundings, and that my words were gifts from heavens above.

Anyways, aside from my few close friends, I had basically no one to be with. My parents were both well-off in their own separate jobs. My dad was a CEO of some firm and my mom was on some board for some medical district, Real big fish so to speak, so they were never around. Not to mention they lived in different homes in order to secure their jobs. There was never any love coming from them.

The only other person I had was my little sister.

My sister was one of the prettiest girls in the world, honestly she was. She had the brightest smile around, adorable laughter, and she cared for our family more than anything. And I felt the same for her. Everyday that I came home after school, whether it was sunshine or rain or anything, she was there. I couldn't help be feel as though I couldn't ask for anything more, except that she were normal.

You see, my little sister was autistic. It wasn't crippling, she could communicate well enough, she just had trouble making prolonged contact. She also didn't take well to those outside of the family. But I loved her and cared for her with everything I had.

Anyways, after several years of being best friends, my buddy started to unravel a little. I guess it was the stress of college entrances, or the fact that his family was getting fucked up beyond all hell. I honestly don't know, and didn't know how to help. Eventually he turned to drugs to cope. I didn't stop him because I had no idea how else he could get through this. The last school counselor was fired for stealing from the school and the nurse was an addict herself. At first it was only pot and such, so I thought why not? It won't really hurt. It's just taking off the edge a little. So life moved on a while longer.

A few months after that, I found out that he hadn't gotten over his problems, and started taking cocaine, meth, and who knows what else. I realized just how stupid I was for letting him get so out of control. One day a girl friend of mine and myself went to go have an intervention for him. He had just taken a hit and was glazed out of his fucking mind. He took a golf club and hit me right in the balls while we tried to talk some sense into him. While I lay crumpled on the floor, he tried to force his way onto my other friend, Luckily she was able to hold him off until I could muster up enough strength to pull him off of her. I managed to knock him out somehow with a lamp or something while she called the police.

I left the situation to my friend after tying him to the kitchen sink. I went home to find my little sister waiting for me to play some games with her. I did for about an hour or so before realizing that I had bloodied my clothes after the earlier ordeal. So I went upstairs to take a shower. This was the last mistake I would make.

While bathing, I heard my mom return home. Being a part of a board of medical directors is a pretty stressful job, so I wasn't entirely surprised when I heard a ruckus unfolding outside. I wasn't worried though, because this happened every time she came home. And my sister wasn't crying either so I felt safe in assuming tonight wouldn't be so bad. The noise level went down for a little bit before they picked back up i full throttle. I exited the bathroom to find my mom crying over the table as usual. But this time it was a little different, she was usually rather vocal about her problems, but this time I could only hear the sound of tears dripping from her face. And my sister wasn't there trying to cheer her up.

Then I noticed that something was very, very wrong. The red tablecloth seemed far darker than usual. Then it hit me, my friend was supposed to call me when she left his house after the police had arrived, but the call never came. I ran over to my mom telling her to get up because we had to lock up the house. She couldn't hear me. There was a bullet hole lodged in the back of her throat. Frantically, I searched the drawers for a weapon to defend myself when I remembered that my sister was still missing. Running room to room, I forgot all about the fact that he was unstable and had a weapon. All that mattered was getting me and my sister out of there.

When I reached the master bedroom, I could hear a faint whimpering sound. Despite all of my self-reassurance through the years that I was better than those idiotic internet-tough guys and retarded jocks who don't know a thing about confrontations, I barged right in without a thought in my head aside from, "I'll fucking kill him if he's touched her." He was there, simply waiting for me, sitting on top of my precious younger sibling. The rope I had used to fasten him was now keeping my little sister held in a god damned, humiliating hog tie. And in his hand was a long metal pipe, the very same that he was tied to not so long before. He played with it, tauntingly, knowing that he had control over the situation in every way. He chastised me on how stupid I was for forgetting that he came from a family of carpenters and do-it-your-selfers; of course he'd have a wrench or something underneath the sink for good measure. I thought that now would be the best time to formulate a plan of action, but as he watched me knowingly, he struck my sister with that damn pipe. I honestly lost myself right there.

I rushed him, and failed miserably. He had always been taller, faster, stronger, just all around superior to me on a physical level. He beat me and threw me aside like a rag doll. As I floundered on the ground trying to muster up something, anything to take him down, he began to undress my sister. With everything I had I pushed myself off the floor to try and take him down, but yet again I had overlooked a critical piece of the situation. He had a gun, and I did not. Before I had a chance to register what was going on, he shot me, square in the gut. I was done for. I had no strength, no weapons, no plans. Only a burning will that was quickly flickering away.

As I lay motionless on the ground, he continued to mock me. Teasing her in the most disgusting ways I had ever seen, or will ever see. The sick fuck even had the gall to light candles and toss flowers about to "set the mood" as he placed it. He ravaged her right before my eyes while I literally couldn't even lift a goddamned finger to help. All I could do was cry in frustration as I bellowed empty threats at the little shit. Truthfully, I think he enjoyed my helplessness as much as he reveled in hers. I vomited in my mouth, almost choking myself then and there. I can't tell how much time passed after that. It could've been a few minutes, maybe even hours. I just don't know. All I could tell was that he just kept going for what seemed an eternity, and I hated him, and more so myself every second of it for not stopping this at the beginning.

At some point he grabbed a candle and a lighter before untying my sister. The bastard began to project his sickening fetishes onto my innocent, autistic sister. My blood was boiling. I had never felt so angry before. As I tried to lift myself up, my fingertips brushed a cold object. When I turned my head to see what it was, I saw a pair of scissors. My sister had taken them out again despite me telling her not to play arts and crafts without my permission. For once, I was glad that she had her own independence. I suppose that with this newfound hope, the adrenaline just got to my. Beyond what I should have been capable of considering everything at hand, I dragged my useless hide over to where that disgusting swine stood and cut his tendons. He collapsed where he stood. The last thing I remembered before losing consciousness was him crying in pain and hearing the sounds of him swinging his gun. Then, I was out. It didn't matter though, I had saved my sister.



It was about three days later that I woke up, in the hospital. As it turns out, my lady friend was alright, she had suffered a minor concussion when he hit her with the pipe during his escape. She had informed the police upon her awakening and immediately they rushed to my home where he was most likely to go next. When I had cut his ankles, he dropped the lighter and candles he had been using and set the place ablaze. The fire had destroyed nearly half of the house before the authorities made it. They say that when they pulled me out of the fire, they didn't expect me to live. Apparently the blood loss was severe and my spinal cord had been severed, paralyzing me from the waist down. No chance of recovery. When I asked them if my sister was okay, they didn't say a word.

I became infuriated at their silence and demanded that they tell how she was. I even threw the damn IV drips at them in order to get the information I needed. Finally, the man who pulled me out spoke up. He told me that she had died, right there beside me. I screamed at them to tell me the truth.

Then they told me. Ever so slowly. We weren't extracted from the fire, I was already lying in the threshold of the front door by the time they had arrived. And right there with me, was my sister, desperately pulling me up, trying to revive me. She wouldn't let anyone near my body. Not even as they tried to evacuate us from the remainder of the building. For the longest time, it was only me and her in the world. To her, I was more than just her big brother, but also her dearest friend, a soul mate so to speak. I made sure that she never needed to rely on anyone else when the time came because I knew she was afraid of others. But I was growing cold they said. I needed to be shipped off to a hospital as soon as possible if I were to live. They say that she stopped crying then, and looked them directly in the eye. She looked at complete strangers, dead-on and asked, "Can you help him?" They assured her yes. As if a burden had been lifted from her, she smiled and replied, "Thank you" as they told me.

Then, she crashed to the ground, dead. I couldn't believe a word they said, but they affirmed that they spoke only what they had seen for themselves. I cried. Longer and harder than anyone must have cried in all of history.

I asked how she died, what caused her to die there. It made no sense at all to me. None at all. Their only response was, "We'll show you, it's the only way you'll get any closure on this."

They wheeled me down to the morgue where they were keeping her body. They promised me that her autopsy hadn't yet begun, but they believed they knew the cause of death. When they unzipped the body bag, I stopped them from moving past the face. I needed some time to compose myself. Sometime to figure out what I really felt, how to say good-bye. Looking at her, she seemed so care free, almost alive in a way. After, locking away this final picture of her, I allowed them to continue showing me the damage.

The first thing I noticed was the rope burns on her wrists from her restraint the night before, but looking further I noticed something else about her hands. Her palms and inner knuckles had horrid blisters on them, as though she had wielded something. And even further, between her ribs, it was there. A bullet wound to match my own. It came to me, she had protected me from him after I passed out! Before he could finish me, she took the pipe and started to hit him in order to defend me. When she thought that he was sufficiently subdued, she carried us both from the wretched place leaving behind the monster. Although he had no chance of escaping except for us, he decided to fuck it all and shot her through the back on our way out. Yet up until her final moments, she persevered to save me. My poor little sister, who had just suffered a punishment worse than death because I was too useless, used every last drop of her power to save my pathetic soul. Tears ran uncontrollably down my face as I watched the events of the night play through my mind culminating in this final reunion between siblings.

Despite being advised otherwise by the doctors, I leaned forward as far as I could, ignoring the piercing pain in my core, and placed one final, tender kiss goodbye on her forehead. Perhaps it was just a delusion caused by my reopened wound and emotional state, but I swear I saw some color return to her visage. It is that peaceful face which I carry with me to this day.

Now about three years have passed. My dad commissioned workers to rebuild the house because I couldn't bear the thought of leaving so soon. He also handed over partial custody to my lady friend's family who moved in as my current guardians. After taking multiple years off from schooling to move past this ordeal, I am now entering college if all goes well. I have doubts about whether I'll ever be happy again, but I'll try so that I don't betray those honest eyes I'll never see again.