Paper plane after paper plane flew out of my bedroom window onto the lush, green field seven stories below. Reluctantly peeling my eyes off the dancing images of my computer screen, I turned to Joshua, my younger brother, happily littering the ground below. “For God’s sake, if you’re going to break the law by throwing things out of the window, at least throw those damn planes from your own window.” I snapped as I returned my eyes to the screen.
There was a soft thud, then room became silent. I assumed he’d left quietly, but I felt my heart sinking at his absence.
“You idiot, why do you keep forgetting?!”
Joshua was diagnosed with autism from his birth 14 years ago. Well, that’s what the doctors said. In reality I thought it was more of Asperger’s syndrome; while he was hopeless in most menial tasks like tying his shoelaces and everyday communication, he was absolutely brilliant when it came to handicraft. Simple pieces of wire could turn into the most intricate pair of earrings for my mother or a quaint little bracelet for Tiffany, our youngest sister and clay became magical under his fingertips.
In short, he was almost like Vincent Van Gogh. Equally tragic as well.
Because his Asperger’s syndrome wasn’t severe enough to warrant him a place in a special institution for people of his condition, Joshua was enrolled into a public school like every other normal child. With his inability to effectively communicate with the people around him, he was soon ostracized by other children of his age. This resulted in him developing depression over his Asperger’s syndrome since he was rendered helpless by his inabilities. The numerous psychiatrists that our mother sent him to all said the same thing: “Don’t ever make him feel unappreciated.”
I just did the exact opposite.
Thinking that Joshua should know better, I didn’t think much of his absence from my room. Shutting off my computer, I laid in my bed blasting my music player. It wasn’t until my mother entered when I sat up and realized how much time had gone by.
“Tess, where’s Joshua? Wasn’t he here four hours ago?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t notice him leaving my room. I assumed he was in his own room after I accidentally snapped at him for throwing his paper planes out of my-”
“You WHAT?! Tess, you should know better-“
“Mum just look at the mess outside the window and you’ll know why I snapped at him!”
From the corner of my eye I observed her looking out of my bedroom window, just like I told her to. Her face grew from irritation to shock, before reaching a crescendo of pure sadness. She took one condescending look at me before running out of my bedroom. With worry and curiosity etching my mind, I looked out of my window before screaming.
Lying on the field below amongst his paper planes was my brother. My dear, sweet, dead brother. His crimson blood pooled below him, staining the field around him a strange, purplish brown. With shaking hands, I reported the suicide to the authorities since my mother wasn’t in the right frame of mind. Well, neither was I, but someone had to do it, right?
Before the authorities arrived, I slipped down to the field. Walking through the field, I gingerly picked up the paper plane nearest to his body, the most bloodstained plane, and brought it home where it now sits on my dressing table, the only memory I have left of the most beautiful human being ever on earth.
