It's been too long for me to keep this inside, so I come here to pour it all out. Newgrounds, I come in search of a compassionate heart.

My little brother died last year, and I never even showed a hint of sorrow. Not a single tear was shed by me; this was, at least until now, when the pain became unbearable. I still remember the geeky little fucker, with his red hair and nasal voice. I remember how he rambled on with childlike enthusiasm about his various interests. His quirky behavior never got on my nerves because there was something sort of faintly amusing about him.

One day, he approached me and asked for advice on girls. He said there was this one special girl that he had laid his eyes upon, and he wanted me to help him earn her love. He showed me a picture of her, and at once I felt that she was out of his league. At first, I considered not helping him out, but my bro was lovestruck; he talked about her all day and night, so even if I felt that it was a lost cause, I relented.

Guys, you don't know how fast he proved me wrong; as I watched him from a distance, I found out that underneath his geeky exterior, there was a smooth and confident man. In just a few months, the girl had completely fallen in love with my little brother. Soon after they started going out, she asked him to prom. My brother was so excited for prom night, that he rushed me to a tuxedo rental.

We looked through all the tuxedos and tried to find the one that suited him most. Soon, we found a handsome, white tuxedo that just begged to be worn by my little bro on his prom night. He tried it on and asked me if he looked alright. My bro looked quite dashing in the tux, disregarding the fact that he wore glasses amd had freckles and curly red hair.

The night before prom, he took me to one side and told me that he wouldn't trade me for any other brother and that he could have never gotten this far without me. I told him that I wouldn't be able to come with him to the tuxedo rental in the morning because I had some stuff to do, so I offered him some money instead. He waved it off, saying that I've done enough. Up until now, Newgrounds, I wish that I hadn't let him go on his own.

The next day, I left early to go to work. Before leaving the house, I decided to check up on my little brother, to make sure nothing had happened to him before his special night arrived. As I peered into his room, I noticed that he was sleeping, so I left him the money if he needed it. I also left him a note, just in case he thought, it was somebody else's. After I scribbled down the note, I left.

Hours after leaving, I received a phone call; it was from my mom. She told me that my brother was at the hospital, in the morgue. At first I found myself full of disbelief. I rushed to the hospital and found mom and dad weeping at the lobby. Without hesitation, I begged the staff to let me see my brother. When they led me to him, I hoped that this was all a misunderstanding, and that it wasn't my brother at all.

My hopes were crushed as I stared at his body with gaping holes in him. The autopsy proved no consolation of a painless death as they told us he was skewered in several places which weren't the places he would have had to been skewered in to die instantly. I was crestfallen that my little brother who had worked so hard to make everything in his life go well was just left on the sidewalk to die a slow and painful death, just before the culmination of most of his efforts.

The staff told us that a man had come across him, already dead. The man had a few items with him that he thought might have been ours. He called 911 and they carefully loaded my brother into the ambulance when it had arrived and rushed him to the hospital to be cleaned up.

The mortician led me to the items that the man had left and I looked through them one by one. There was a skateboard, a paintbrush and some other things that didn't seem like they were ours. After looking for a while, I found my note, all dotted with blood. I folded it and took it home, as we left the hospital.

The funeral was dreadfully somber and all that could be heard was weeping and the priest's voice. I held all of my tears back. I tried to be strong for the ones that weren't. I tried to be strong for my dad who loved him so much, my mother who cared for him since he was a little baby, his girlfriend whom he had meant the world to, and all the others touched by his life. I spent the days staying strong for them and right now, I find myself unable to carry on my little charade.

As I type this, I look at the note my little brother had left me before he died, and I begin to cry. As I look at the words he wrote in reply I could imagine him smile while writing it down just before leaving the house. "Thanks for the money, bro. You're the best big brother a guy can ever have!" Newgrounds, I miss him, and I want him to know that.

You're the best little brother anyone could have. I'll never forget you, Chuck. Especially when you tried on your expensive, new Tux.