So I am making a bunch of little marvel short stories and putting them into one book.

I heard nothing. The life had been sucked out of me. I screamed louder than sound. I was out of control. The world felt like nothing. I could hear him saying "you didn't see that coming," the tears wouldn't stop falling. Nothing else concerned me right now. My brother is dead is all I could think.

Few months later

I swear I heard him in my head. That he was still apart of me. Everyone said it was grief. I thought it was him and I knew it. I knew he would always be with me. And it is not a product of grief. I can never say goodbye to Pietro.