It was winter, my parents had gone to work. It was raining cats, sharks, dolphins and dogs. Mist surrounded our neighborhood. As i hopefully opened the pot, only to find the soup finished. Ernest was 11 years old. He had not learned to cook yet.

I found my self holding a bowl with hot soup, as I sat warm at the lounge. We turned and heard a knock a knock after a Knock. Mother was back from work. Finally, we at least got some adult help.

Then the next morning, just when the cold sun of winter rised. Ernest had woken up with a cold. He was red and all. My mom had gone to work again. What am I going to do. As questions raved through my mind. Ok! I will warm some water maybe I will make. It was a mess all over the place, but I had made some remedy.

As I sit in my bedroom, a hospital room. I have missed about 15 years of life on earth. My ID, My School days, like absolutely everything.

What about my parents. I don’t blame them, they were trying to earn a living. It was not easy for them leaving children unsafe at home. Rumors have it that guilt is eating them up day by day. It all makes it worse when Ernest takes suicide.

I also get sucked up by thoughts and guilt, if only I had been more careful, if only I did want the ice cream, if only I healed faster. If only I did not go outside the house that day, if only I knew

If only!