I still think back to that day. If only I hadn't started that stupid argument, he might still be alive—
I still can't face any of them, because I know it was my fault.
We— I wanted to try something stupid, and he came with me.
Everyone said it was dangerous.
We argued about it.
And then I pushed him.
I panicked. I didn't know what to do.
When they came, I lied.
They said he had to die.
But it was my fault.
He sat in the corner, staring at nothing.
The thoughts always came back.
I don't remember the last time I left the house.
Or the last time I slept well.
The street noise fades as he sinks deeper into his thoughts—
The door suddenly swings open.
A young woman stands in front of him, her eyes sharp and mixed with worry.
She sighs. "Get up, Jay, this isn't good for your health. Mom and Dad are worried sick about ya."
He doesn't answer. He keeps staring.
"Well, my way then."
She draws her hand back, slaps him hard across the face.
"You little weasel, get your ass up before you eat another one."
He stares, dumbfounded.
"Wha― What the hell did you do that for?!" He jumps to his feet.
She smirks. "Good on ya. You still feel pain. Now get your ass downstairs. Time for breakfast."
She turns to leave. "Don't make me come back to get ya."
"Stupid Anne... Why'd you have to hit me so hard."
He presses a hand to his cheek, muttering under his breath, then follows her after a moment.
"I got your mopey kid over here." she calls out as they reach the bottom of the stairs, jerking her thumb towards Jay.
"Oh dear, hope you went easy on him." A slightly older woman says as she wipes her hand and walks over.
"That's the problem ma, you're too easy on the brat. How's he gonna toughen up?" Anne says, deopping into a chair.