[ WP ] Your brother falls into what is believed to be a vegetative state . The care he needs leaves you neglected . You go down the wrong path leading you to murder . You confide in your brother about the crimes thinking he ca n't hear you . 12 years later technology allows him to speak , he was conscious .

`` We need to talk.'' 
 
 I was expecting those words from the moment he woke up, but they still caught me unprepared. Just like everything else about my brother, I guess - I'd been playing catch-up since the day he was born. One day I was the prodigal son - the next, an afterthought - the next, a mentor - the next, the bereaved; and finally, here I was, wondering what came next. 
 
 My mother had died in the accident, my brother lived. I still do n't know who got off easier. For more than a decade he lay there, inert and useless, picked up a few times a day off the hospital bed so his sagging skin would n't grow sores. I bounced from school to school, job to job, but I always made sure he had what he needed. He was the only thing that kept me anchored to my past. Maybe that's why I kept up with him, why I made sure his bills were paid even when that meant I could n't have the heat on at night. He had a level of peace and stability that I could never even touch. 
 
 Things got bad over the years. Things got *really* bad. But no matter what, my brother had my back. You know how people tell you, if you want a sympathetic ear you should talk to a mirror? Well, he was one better - a mirror that could n't talk back. I told him everything - who I was seeing, who I was afraid of. What I was doing. What I had done. 
 
 I walked into the hospital room, heart beating hard, the EKG monitors placidly counting out my brother's own, slow heartbeat. A nurse was just on her way out - I recognized her, she was one of the nice ones. Looked like a catheter change - no amount of bedside manner would make that pleasant. 
 
 `` When I thought about waking up to ladies touching my junk, that was not what I had in mind,'' he groaned with an expression between a wince and a smile. I could n't help but grin at that - he always had a sense of humor. 
 
 `` Not into the rough stuff, huh? I've got friends downtown who'd charge you good money for that.'' 
 
 `` I bet.'' His expression changed, but not to what I expected. I expected anger, disappointment, disgust - now he looked back at me with something different. Pity, maybe. 
 
 `` You came to visit me a lot, I think. You told me a lot.'' This was it. `` But it never came back to haunt you. You got away with it.'' I did. `` So, I wanted to tell you - I'm not going to say anything if you do n't want me to. Your secret is safe with me.'' 
 
 `` Why?'' 
 
 `` Because I do n't want anyone else to lose half of their life in a cage.'' 
 

