My Brother Was Taken by the River

The moment I slipped my phone back into my pocket, the screen lit up again.

Dad.

"You need to delete that comment right now."

I was still treading water, gasping for breath, unable to speak.

"Did you hear me? Travis's father is my coworker. What am I supposed to say to him now? Delete it immediately, then call Travis and apologize."

"Dad... Ian still hasn't been found..."

"We'll deal with Ian later. Delete the comment first. Right now."

Water rushed into my nose, choking me until tears streamed down my face.

I stared at the raging river. Ian's head never surfaced again.

"I'm not deleting it."

My voice shook, but this time I did not back down.

"I won't delete it."

The line went silent for a second.

Then Dad's voice twisted, harsh and furious.

"Dylan, don't you start acting crazy on me. If you don't delete that comment today, then don't even think about coming back home."

I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked at the call timer on the screen.

00:47.

Then I hung up.

The river had swept my little brother away.

And with him, the last bit of hesitation I had left.

I dragged myself onto the shore. A sharp rock sliced open the bottom of my foot, blood pouring out instantly. Sand ground into the wound, but I clenched my teeth and stayed silent.

Dad always said strong people don't cry out in pain.

But he never said that people who stay silent still hurt.

"Ian!"

No answer.

"Ian!"

Only the sound of wind moving through the reeds answered me, somewhere between laughter and crying.

After walking for forty minutes, I finally reached the floodgate.

The muddy current slowed here, clogged with trash, dead branches, and plastic bags, all tangled together like a pot of rotten soup.

Something blue was caught in the middle.

Ian's shorts.

Mom had just bought them for him last week. Bright blue, with a cartoon shark printed on them.

I lost my mind and charged straight into the water. It surged up to my waist instantly.

But there were only the shorts.

Ian was gone.

I stood frozen in the river, clutching the soaked fabric, my whole body trembling.

Dirty yellow water stretched endlessly around me. No bottom. No edge.

"Ian...!"

My throat was destroyed by then. No sound came out anymore, only ragged air forcing its way past my lips.

No response.

In the distance, I spotted an old man fishing.

I stumbled toward him and grabbed his arm.

"Sir, please... please help me call the police. My little brother got swept away..."

The old man jumped in shock. When he saw the state I was in, his face immediately changed.

"Where did you come from? Roaring Spine Ferry?"

I nodded, tears pouring down my face.

"You can't swim there! The riverbed's full of hidden trenches. People drown there every year! Where were your parents? How could they let you kids go somewhere like that?"

I did not answer.

I dropped to my knees and bowed my head repeatedly.

"Please... call the police..."

The old man quickly took out his phone and dialed 911. Then he helped me sit by the roadside and handed me a bottle of water.

I took one sip.

My stomach lurched violently and I threw everything back up.

The police arrived and asked me question after question.

How tall was he?

How heavy?

What was he wearing?

What time did he fall in?

I answered every single one.

That same night, the rescue team entered the water.

Massive floodlights were set up along both sides of the riverbank, bleaching the water a sickly white.

I sat on a rock by the shore and stared at the light.

They searched for two days and two nights.

On the morning of the third day, a middle-aged officer in uniform walked over and crouched in front of me.

He removed his cap and spoke slowly, gently.

"Dylan... we've searched more than ten kilometers downstream and still haven't found your brother.

"There are too many branching currents in this river. It's possible that... you should prepare yourself mentally."

I stared at him.

"What does 'prepare myself mentally' mean?"

He did not answer.

He only placed a hand on my shoulder.

He never said the words 'unlikely to survive,' but I saw them clearly in his eyes.

I lowered my head and clenched Ian's shorts in my hands so tightly my nails dug into my palms.

Then the tears came all at once.

My phone vibrated.

The caller ID flashed across the screen:

Dad.

I answered.

His voice was impatient, still carrying that commanding tone.

"Where did you run off to? Why haven't you come back to apologize yet? Travis's father called me just now asking what's wrong with you and why you posted a comment like that. Get back here immediately and apologize to Travis in person."

I lowered my head, my voice breaking.

"Okay.

"I'll come back now."