I look up and see my mom quickly walking to the kitchen. I don't think anything of it as I go back to typing. This section of the story was irking me, I could see the picture in my head, but couldn't put it into words. I glare at the screen; so far Lillian is pinned against the wall with Jared's hands around her throat. She's gasping for air and trying desperately to push him away, but her strength is no match for his.
I hear my mom in the kitchen but can only catch pieces of her sentences as she talks with the lunch ladies in a shaky whisper. I can hear the tears in her voice and know that she's crying, but I wasn't ready for the phrases I was able to catch.
"He's dead. He's gone. They say he was throwing up and- on their way to the hospital-"
I began to shake as I looked up from my screen, Lillian and Jared suddenly unimportant. I tried to look into the kitchen, but I couldn't see anything, my mom and the lunch ladies out of view. I slowly stood, my heart pounding in overtime, my breathing caught and my knees shaking.
The first thing my mind jumped to was my dad, but that quickly faded when I thought about how my mom would be sobbing uncontrollably instead of just crying. I managed to walk to the kitchen door, wondering who it could be. I heard the muffled voices and couldn't bring myself to push open the door. I backed away and just stood there.
My mom came out of the kitchen and looked at me; her voice wavered as she spoke. "Why aren't you working?"
"I heard- you're crying- I'm wondering-" I couldn't finish a single sentence.
My mom wiped the tears from her eyes. I knew that someone was dead, but I couldn't think of who it could be, and I hoped it wasn't someone I knew.
"Who-who died?" I squeaked.
"Brandon." My mom sniffed. "Brandon Kerr."
My heart stopped. 'Brandon.' The name of a little boy with a big imagination, a big heart and an even bigger smile. He usually sat behind me in chapel on Sunday mornings and Sunday nights. He would always say hello and smile at me. I'd always ruffle his hair and smile back. The Kerrs are friends of our family and my parents were with them when they went to the Ukraine to pick Brandon up.
Brandon had only been in the states with his new family for six months. I had just seen him yesterday. He was smiling, laughing, happy. He had smiled at me and I had ruffled his hair. He was always so happy, his blue eyes shining with curiosity, his blonde hair always a mess. He was only seven, maybe eight.
I could see his smiling face as I sat down in my chair and stared at the screen. Suddenly life seemed hallow and the peaceful atmosphere of my study hall was cold and harsh as reality struck me. He was gone. I wanted to cry, to curl up and hide from the world, but all I could do was sit there and stare at the screen while I shook like a leaf on the cold autumn's wind. I'm shaking now, even as I write this. I don't know if I'll be able to stop shaking, I feel so cold and hallow and useless. Everyone around me is crying; even my dad, but all I can do is shake. And I'm wondering, why was it him? Why did he have to go? Why did he have to die so young?

and why can't I cry, like everyone else.....
why is it that all I can do... is shake...