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 Ane... 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 hands and walks over.
"That's the problem Ma, you're too easy on the brat. How's he gonna toughen up?" Ane says, dropping into a chair.
"Give your little brother a break. He's been through a lot after the incident," a slightly older man says, lowering his newspaper.
"Come on, old man. Not you too!" Ane sighs. "Whatever. I'm starving."
"Hey, I'm not that old. Shouldn't you be calling me Dad? I wouldn't mind if you called me Papa like when you were little."
"Hell no, old man. In your dreams."
The woman laughs softly."Now, now. Your papa might be an old man, but you shouldn't say it to his face."
"Not you too, honey! I'm not an old man!"
The warm sight of his family at the table manages to put a small smile on Jay's face.
"Dad... I think it's time I went back to college," Jay says as he takes his seat.
"You make it sound like you ever went," Ane says, smirking.
"That sounds wonderful, honey. When you suddenly took a leave of absence, I was so worried," his mother says softly.
"Why are you telling me that, you brat. Do what makes you happy," his father says.
"Yay! We'll celebrate my baby boy finally going out again." Jay's mother says brightly.
Moments after they finish breakfast—
Ane heads toward the door and calls out, "Hey, weasel. Let's take a stroll. 'Bout time you got your ass outside."
Jay helps his mother clear the table, then follows her out.
"You're eager. Guess someone missed me."
"Don't get ahead of yourself, weasel," Ane says, pulling him into a headlock and ruffling his hair.
They walk for a while stumbling upon a commotion.
A crowd had gathered, guns aimed at a person. A man kneels near the bothers, tears streaming down his face.
"Please— don't shoot! I'm not one of them! Help me! I don't want to die!" He plead.
No one steps forward or answers the man's call.
A girl tries to rush to is aid but is stopped by Ane, pulling her back.
"Look," she hints to his leg.
Their gaze falls onto him, one leg completely turned black.
The darkness crawls upward, spreading slowly across his body.