The Bars That Hold Us by Shelly Pratt Read Free Book Online Page A

fiercely loyal man who always swore to do whatever it took to keep his baby brother safe.
    It wasn’t just any night out. It was special. His fiancé made me promise that I would keep an eye out for him. She was worried about him getting too drunk. But that’s what happens when out on a buck’s night, isn’t it? I know you’ve all seen The Hangover . While I wasn’t quite expecting a party of those proportions, I still knew I would have to be the sensible one. I was the protector. I was, and always will be, the big brother. It was my burden.
    The night started out like any other. Drinks, dinner, drinks. Drinks, strip club, drinks. Drinks, nightclub, drinks. We were almost home free, winding down the night without any hint of trouble. By three am we were ready to call it a night. We finished last shots at some titty joint in the Cross and then went looking for a cab to take our drunken asses home.
    Half my problem was I wasn’t drunk enough to lose the sharp edge that’s ingrained within you – the edge when you feel like your life, or the life of your brother, is in danger. Our group was walking down the alleyway to the main road, not looking for trouble, not wanting it.
    I remember how happy we all were. How much we were looking forward to the wedding, the start of a new chapter in Jamie’s life. Two guys ruined all of those hopes and dreams when they stepped out and blocked Jamie’s path. They wanted a smoke. He didn’t have any and, because of alcohol fuelling their obnoxious behavior, a fight ensued. It was just a bunch of dickheads who couldn’t take no for an answer. They didn’t want to walk away. They wanted the fight; so I gave it to them.
    They didn’t seem me coming because I was walking further back with my mate, Aaron. He could barely stand, so I had his arm slung over my shoulder to keep him upright. Even through the blur of alcohol and darkened alley way, I could still see clearly the guy take the first swing.
    Anger is a wicked mistress, but the fear of your brother being hurt, of someone assaulting him, is much worse. They could punch my head in all day if they liked, but they could not touch a hair on my brother’s head without wearing the consequence. This was a kid who I taught to ride a bike; gave him his fist playboy magazine when he reached puberty , and taught him how to shave properly.
    I dropped Aaron like a sack of potatoes, not caring that he sagged without my support. I just ran; no thought for force or consequence. My feet on the blacktop were a clear warning to the huddled group that bigger things were coming their way. I was mad. Furious. Ferocious . I wasn’t thinking clearly enough to judge the potency of my punch. It was just one, but that was all it took.
    The guy’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell straight backwards, head smacking with a sickening thud against the curb. I still hear that sound when I’m sleeping. It’s sounds like that crunching, revolting pop when a dentist rips your tooth out. Unforgettable. Irreparable. We all stood back, waiting for him to get up. His friend was motionl ess, shock dazing him just as badly it did me. 
    That night was life-altering for all of us. See guys, smoking really does kill. Pun intended.
    With so much alcohol fuelled violence on the streets, I was the first to be made an example of. There was no slap on the wrist, no speeches of misguided intentions. It was straight to maximum for a four year stint for manslaughter that would seem like an eternity. There were no apologies on either side – just a shit load of regret and more anger.
    In a twist of fate, Jamie never ended up marrying that girl. We all lost something. We all changed —forever. Now all I can do is try and pick up the pieces and move on. Hard to do when it all seems like it was all for nothing. I was protecting a brother who had a future, girl, and a life full of promise. But my predicament has his life spiraling out of control, too. What if has