Real

I knew it was real when I could taste blood in my mouth.

The words we had been yelling weren't real to me, but some how the blood made it real.

The way it went from screaming to punching was quick and unexpected, but also natural. I could feel your knuckles smash into me as I threw fists back at you. And everything seemed slow and quiet in those moments.

My fists never looked the same since that night, the cut skin that bled slowly never healed right. It left little scars and rips that will never go away. I will carry the memory of you for the rest of my life on my hands.

Every time warm blood slips in my mouth I feel the sting of your hand on my cheek. If I could forget about that night I would; but honestly, it's the first time I ever lost a brother.

I don't think I'll ever forget that.