It’s insane how the emotions of a person are able to dramatically change in an instant. One minute you could be happy and enjoying the good things in life. Then the next minute you could be angry, scared, and confused. The emotions of people change because of actions that impact your life and change your judgments. What happened to my brother Carlos left me with mixed feelings and changed my judgments about several subjects.

It was a warm sunny day when Carlos asked me if I wanted to go to Quick Trip with him. I accepted the invitation because I did everything he asked, since I knew he would do the same for me. While we were walking down the street Carlos turned to me and said, “Do you think I really changed?” I didn’t know what to say because he was seventeen years old at the time and just a couple months ago he had been released from the local juvenile hall, doing time for possession of narcotics and gang enhancement. If you saw him you would instantly hide your valuables. He was covered in tattoos so you could tell he was a gang member, people didn’t really approach him because he always had a mean look on his face. Then after a while he looked away from me and laughed, then said, “I guess you are the only one who knows what I am up to.”

We arrived at Quick Trip and he bought some chips and soda. I opened the door of Quick Trip and it was freezing cold outside compared to the temperature from when we left from home. It was only five o clock. We started walking home and I noticed a group of eight guys dressed in blue, black, and white. They started following us and continued until we got to the front door of our father’s house. I was scared because I knew something was going to go wrong. They were yelling at my brother telling him to man up. He ignored them and went inside. About five minutes later we heard a loud shattering noise. My brother told me to stay put and he grabbed a bat and ran outside. At that point I was shocked and angry because I didn’t want him to get in trouble again. So I didn’t listen and followed him. Instead of telling them to leave or calling the police my brother ripped his shirt off to show his tattoos and started cursing at them. The tall one with the dark complexion ran towards Carlos and got knocked out by the force of the bat hitting the back of his head. I knew instantly that my brother was going to get hurt.
Carlos wanted to fight; you could easily see it in his eyes. When I saw the way his face looked I saw something different, he seemed as if he had been filled with malevolence. I was terrified when I saw him run toward those guys. He was hitting who ever came his way with the bat he held with a tight grip and there was blood all over the concrete sidewalk and our lawn. Next thing I noticed was a boy I saw everyday, was in that group. He attended the high school my other brother attended. I saw this boy pull out a switch blade and crawl up behind my brother. He stabbed him twice in the left leg and after the second blow, Carlos hit him with the bat so hard that the boy collapsed onto the ground in what seemed a half of a second. Two guys ran away screaming at Carlos, telling him that he’s in trouble. Then out of nowhere, the classmate of my other brother Eddie stabbed Carlos. The boy ran off, cheering for his so called accomplishment. I felt a cold chill fill my entire body and I was scared to move.

I don’t know how long it took me to call an ambulance, but they arrived before my dad got home. When my dad came to the hospital he came rushing through the door and started yelling at me. I felt embarrassed and my heart was broken because he was blaming me for my brother’s incident. When the doctor came out from the emergency room, he wasn’t smiling. He told my dad that my brother didn’t make it. Even if my brother had lived he would have been completely paralyzed and in a coma because the last stab wound shattered the top of his spinal cord. Those guys that provoked my brother into fighting may have gotten hurt, but why was it that my brother was the one that had to die?

After Carlos’ death our family started dividing into different groups and arguing all the time. Most of them blamed me, and some wanted revenge on the guys who killed him. At first I was confused because I didn’t realize my brother was dead and never coming back. The first time it hit me was when I touched his cold, hard face at the funeral. After losing Carlos I was depressed for about six months. Today I remember him every time I take out my old photo album, and when I look through the jewelry he used to give me for Christmas and birthdays. I feel like crying when I am reminded of him, but I know that he’s in a better place. Now that so much time has passed I realize so many things. I always used to think that bad things happened to other people and would never happen to me. I used to be really mean; I didn’t feel sympathy towards anyone. I was mean because I had never experienced so many emotions that leave you with a shrill, dark feeling. Now that I know that people can feel terrible over losing someone they really love, I have the ability to feel sympathetic to the feelings of others.