Speaking of Death - Original Writing When we were younger I always ignored the cries and screams of my brother Wayne. We are adults now, and even though I try to ignore his screams with all my might, the sounds emanating from his mouth still seep into my mind. You would think he was in pain. I imagine he suffered from frustration, from not being able to speak. All the sounds he could make were screams and moans. Everyone pities people like that, including me of course. I also wish I could have put him out of his misery like everyone else, but our parents were adamant that such "barbaric actions" were not necessary at all; they wouldn't let Wayne go in such a callous way. Don't get me wrong, I loved Wayne more than anything I owned or had, we grew up as close brothers. We even invented our own private sign language so we could talk privately, just the two of us having long, detailed conversations that no one else could ever understand. It's a shame that he died, in fact it wasn't that long ago. Many friends and relatives are still mourning his horrific death. As far as I'm concerned, I'm over it, there's no point in dwelling on the past, as I always say. You know, the police say it was suicide, but this is seriously doubted, personally I doubt this explanation most of all, because I know for a fact that Wayne was a person who lived life as it should be believed. He was a lover of life even though he was disabled; he would attempt to do anything a normal person could do. It was upsetting, he tried so hard to fit in with everyone else, but all he received was rejection, even from me, in the end. As we became respected teenagers, I came to hate Wayne with my heart and soul, I just couldn't help it, it just happened. My strong love for Wayne has deteriorated and turned into a fire