Another short essay I'm entering in a contest. I had to start the first sentence with those words...

"For a moment time stood still." I told the people in the grand jury.
 Everyone was watching me, but I tried to just look at the prosecutor. My brother didn't have a chance this time, they were after blood. Of course I

couldn't blame them. With everything he had done... I was too.
 "Was there ever a time he let you use drugs, or maybe did them around you?" The prosecutor asked.
 I didn't want to nark on him, but in a way, I was out for revenge for what he had done to us. Maybe my mom could forgive him, but there would never

come a day where I could sit back and breathe easily when he was around. No time for me to forgive, to let go. He reminded me too much of my father and that

boiled my blood.
 The wounds were still fresh, I was still so angry and hurt. I think my mom was just hurt. She couldn't believe that one of her own children could have

done that. We were both testifying that day, along with two other officers we had come close to over the period of the investigation and arrest of my brother.
 I can remember that night like it was yesterday.
 My brother has a long history of drug use, but they could never catch him for it. He was a time bomb just waiting to explode. And he did. However, I

don't think it was directly on purpose. He had been gone for quite some time, maybe a week or so. We all knew where he went, it wasn't some big shocker when we

found out. There was a bigger city close by, and he always did runs back and forth for drugs. This time was no different. He was there and calling us non-stop.

Always asking for money, he wanted money for a hotel, he would tell us. We knew it was for drugs. When my mom found out my brother was stealing checks from

her, we got this ilaborate story. Two detectives were black mailing my brother over a death that happened due to bad drugs being sold. They were going to pin it

on him unless he paid them. We were scared enough, maybe even stupid enough, to believe him. As time went by and more and more checks were taken, we knew

he was lying. My brother took off to this big city just before my mom could call the police and report the goings-on. We were frightened, but never thought we

would get hurt by him, not like we did.
 He ran off to the city and stayed there for awhile. My brother would call periodically and ask for money. It was hard for mom to say no. And when he

called from a pay phone not far from our house, asking for help... she didn't say no. He warned her not to involve the police, if they came he would kill them, he

had a gun. My mom didn't really listen to him, she didn't want anyone to get hurt, but she had to warn the police that he was back. She called the main detective on

the case and told him what was going on. She made him promise that he would let her get my brother help. She just wanted him to get better, and she was sure he

really meant it this time.
 The officer told her that as long as he was going to get help, he would let her do that. My mom quickly got her things together and started to leave.
 "You know there's no way I'm letting you go alone." I told her.
 "You really shouldn't, I can do this..."
 "No. Absolutely not. Don't even try to talk me out of this." I replied.
 We both silently walked out into the cold, and unusually dark night. It felt like our surroundings were caving in on us, crushing our spirits. I was

terrified, not understanding what an addiction to a drug was like. I had seen it over and over again with my brother. He had so many addictions to so many things.

Since he was four he had been under so much stress. The beatings and put downs were constantly coming from my father. I blame some of this on my father. He

was a very troubled man, which led to the troubled son he made.
 As we drove into the gas station, we saw him. He was standing near a pay phone, waiting on mom, most likely not expecting me to be there. The look in

his eyes was frieghtning. I can only compare it to pure insanity.
 He got in the car, and for a moment time stood still. It was quiet, an uneasy silence.
 "I need you to take me somewhere," He told us.
 "I know, we're going to the hospital, everything is going to be okay."
 "Did you get the money?" He asked.
 "Yes." Mom replied.
 "You don't understand though, you need to take me to this dudes house." He said. 
 "What? No! We're going to the hopital to get you help."
 "No, you aren't... you're taking me to that house! Now!" He yelled.
 "I swear to god I'll kill us all! I want out of here! Pull over!"
 "You want me to drop you off? Fine!" Mom yelled as she pulled over beside the police station.
 I'm sure my brother made some diragotry remark as he quickly got out of the car and began running down the street. It seemed like it took him forever

to get down the road. His eyes were wild, dangerous, unpredictable. It was a deer in the headlights look. I could feel the sense of betrayl and fright dripping off of

him. The angry words were still buzzing around my head.
 We waited in the car until he was out of sight, until we couldn't see him anymore. My heart was sinking deep into my chest, I felt as scared as he did. We

got out of the car, trying to run to the police station. We got inside the door and unpatienly waited until we were buzzed in to the building.
 Once we got to the front desk, we both started spewing out every vile thing that was said and done.
 The officer took our statements calmly. He called for another officer to come to talk to us, someone that could tell us what we needed to do.
 "Go home and try not to worry... You probably won't see him again tonight." The officer told us.
 I admired his reassurance, he came by it natuarlly. Only now have I found that they are all accomplished liars. When we needed help, when my brother

needed help... it wasn't for our benefit, it was there's that they were worried about. Their image, their justice, their way that everyone else had to abide by. They

didn't do us any favors.
 Now that I've climbed off of my soap box, I'll continue with my story.
 We didn't go home straight away. Mom wanted to check on the my brothers kids and girl-friend first. We drove to the house and sat in her bedroom and

talked. The kids ran in and out, trying to figure out what was really going on. We comforted each other, we let each other know we were in it together.
 After we spoke and decided everything was going to be okay, everything would work out, we went home. We were supposed to keep my niece that

night, thank God we didn't.
 Mom pulled in the driveway, we looked at the house as if we were the robber entering an unknown place. We were scared, unaware of the evil working

inside. That may seem like a terrible thing to say about your own family member, but drugs do make a person evil. They completely change.
 We walked to the door, unlocked it and went inside.
 "I can't believe I left the backdoor unlocked." My mom commented as we both looked at it.
 We knew then, we just knew.
 My brother walked out of the bathroom and simply said, "Yea, you did."
 The chaos insued right away. There was yelling and threats and anger being hurled around the room.
 "Give me the money." My brother demanded.
 "No! I don't even have it anymore!" Which was true, she didn't have it, I did.
 Mom sat down at the kitchen table, she was tired and drained. The yelling continued as mom and I began to notice that all the phones were gone,

unplugged, empty. We didn't have a way to call out for help... or did we?
 I saw my cell phone sitting on the counter, I knew I had to take the oppurtunity. My brother got his own oppurtunity. He saw my moms purse and

grabbed it. He ran towards the front door, my mom blocked it as she screamed and cried and begged for him to stop. He wouldn't. They say that sometimes when a

person is messed up on drugs, it's almost like they have super-human strength. I think my brother did that night. When he realized he couldn't get out of front

door, he ran towards the back. I tried to block him, but he completely ran over top of me. He got five years of a prison term for that, which they knocked down to

five years of probation. With the warning that if he did anything, absolutely anything, he would be in jail for the remainder.
 As he ran over me, I grabbed the purse strap and held on while I was screaming my address to the police.
 "Come on! Come on! We need you now.... I swear to God I'll kill you!" I'm sure the police got mixed messages while I was yelling. It didn't matter, they

were too late. My brother had ran out of the back door leaving me half inside and half out. The screen door was ripped off of the henges and I laid there with only

the purse strap in my hand.
 "Mother fucker! I swear to God I'll kill you my damn self!" I screamed after him.  
 I got to my feet, showing my mom the purse strap. I held it tightly in my hand, scared, angry, furious. I hated him, I wanted to see him crucified at that

moment.
 The police showed up five minutes too late.
 My brother was on the run for several days. I stayed up nights gripping a metal baseball bat, waiting for my chance to confront him. I didn't sleep,

Icouldn't. Not after that.
 They found him later, he was with a friend getting ready to head to Florida.
 I harbored anger for such a long time, not realizing that I was only hurting myself. He didn't need anger, he needed forgiveness and comfort. I didn't

have that in myself at that time.
 As the years have passed, he really hasn't changed. He is off of drugs and doing better. But I don't think he could hold a job if his life depended on it.

Recently, he has been sentenced to two years in prison for hanging around one of his friends that is a felon and not paying court fines. How stupid can someone

be? It was a desperate attempt to throw him away and not worry about him for the next two years. Out of all the things my brother has done, I find this pety and

pure game playing. The prosecutor is still out for blood, so are the judge and police officers.
 For a moment time stood still. And then it flew by.