My youth was, in a nutshell, a lot of plicated shit.

  My parents, my younger sister, and I lived in a small house. We weren't a close-knit family, but it worked...or at least I'd like to think so.

  I didn't get along with my parents, especially my mother. Her eyes reflected a strange kind of hatred whenever she looked at me. I never uood why and ried to find out. There was no need. She didn't care about me and I didn't care about her.

  With my father, I could have a versation now and then like twers who sometimes chatted while waiting for the bus or train. There was no i, but we talked to pass the time. But my sister... she was my whole world.

  I was older by 6 years. And since she was born, there was not a single day that I was not by her side. She was my happiness and the only reason I lived. In a way you could say that I was the one who raised her. Our parents only gave us a pce to sleep. I was the one who taught her everything and gave her the food she ate. I taught her to talk, to walk, to dress, to eat, to bathe, to brush her teeth, all the things she o know.

  We went to school together until I entered high school. When she finished her csses I would sneak out of css to pick her up when our schedules didn't cide. Fortunately, my grades at that time were high enough that the teachers didn't care too much about what I did. All those afternoons we would hang out at a nearby park and py until te afternoon and then go home.

  That's how our life was until she turned 12.

  I left school and started w in a warehouse. My sary was good enough. So, the moo a certaient, was no longer a problem. My mother was never ied in what I did, even though she knew I made good money, she never asked for a penny. It was as if she didn't care about our existence. As they say, every cloud has a silver lining. Something I was grateful for, as it allowed me to save money without any problems.

  I had already talked to my little sister about moving in together in a small apartment, away from that atmosphere of indifference, which felt like a tig time bomb. There was a kind of feeling there, like the kind you get when something is definitely going to happen and you won't be able to avoid it.

  My father agreed with me. He also seemed to think we would be much better off living away from them. Luckily, he never behaved badly towards us, but he wasn't the persoher. At least he was det enough to know that the life we were living wasn't the best for us. However, he never did anything to ge that.

  For quite some time I was saving as much money as I could. I po pay the deposit on an apartment and mht away wheurned 16.

  But life is a bitch. It's like you're drowning, feeling the water stinging in your lungs, you see a hand reag out to help, as you feel that st thread of hope, and then... something pulls you even deeper, as you watch your only hope slowly fading away.

  My little sister had decided to rest at home one m. She had been stressed because her final exams were ing up, and she wasn't feeling very well. I told her she could rest for a couple of days, that she shouldn't overexert herself, she could even have some selfish desires if she wao. I would be ba the middle of the afternoon, so we could go out afterward and have some fun. She was happy and told me about all the pces we could go.

  So, I left for work a her take a rest for the day at home.

  On my way back, there was a big otion in my neighborhood and a lot of people gathered. I remembered that bad feeling, a feeling that intensified when I saw a n of bck smoke in the distance.

  I ran with all my might, my heart pounding in my chest.

  The distao my house was not far, but it felt like it was endless.

  When I arrived... it was on fire. My house was engulfed in a huge fireball. Several fire crews were struggling to put out the fire. I started looking everywhere for my sister, but there was no sign of her.

  After a while, I mao see my father on his knees on the ground. He looked... he looked like his life was over. He had ay look on his face. I approached him and asked him what had happened. But all that came out of his mouth ologies and excuses, saying that he had done everything he could. Those words hadn't helped me in the least to quell the stant ahat was growing inside me.

  I looked away and I saw my mother, sitting oreet as she hugged her legs, staring at the burning building. There was no traotion in her expression. She was just looking calmly as if enjoying the sery. I didn't even want to approach her, I felt sick just looking at her.

  I went straight to a police officer who was nearby, told him it was my house and that I wao know what happened. He told me that a neighbor heard an explosion and when he came out, found the building engulfed ihere was still one person trapped in the house, but as far as they knew she was not in immediate danger. Fortunately, she locked herself ihroom, the fmes and smoke had not yet reached her, but the more time passed, the more danger she was in. The structure of the house might not hold up for long.

  Parts of the house had already colpsed. When it seemed that the fmes had been brought under trol, they somehow reemerged with more force, and the battle began again.

  After two long and exhausting hours, they were able to trol the fire.

  And finally, out of the bed rubble, 2 firefighters emerged from the colpsed building carrying a girl wearing an oxygen mask and ed in a soaked bhey took off their masks and by their expressions, they looked relieved. I immediately ran to them, my heart in my hand. I o make sure she was okay.

  They tried to stop me, but it was enough to say that she was my little sister for them to let me approach. She was a little drowsy, looking like she was struggling to stay scious. I could only hold her hand and cry. They told me they would take her to the hospital right away, they didn't know how much smoke she had breathed and they o run several tests. I just nodded and thahem both for resg her from that hell. If I had lost her... I don't know what would have bee of me at that moment.

  In the ambuhey put her on a stretcher with an oxygen tank and took us immediately to the hospital where she would spend at least a couple of days under observation.

  After that, time passed quickly. My sister had minor burns and very minor damage from breathing the smoke. It was almost a miracle that that was all that happeo her.

  A few days after that i, the police visited us to give the results of the iigation. That bitch, my mother, had left the gas tap open and, although they don't know how, caused some kind of short circuit i after leaving the house.

  Needless to say, she was arrested immediately. They seo a psychiatrist and they detected some kind of mental illness. I don't know whie, I stopped listening to them as soon as I k was her fault.

  My father, oher hand, turned himself in from day one, accepting the bme for not being able to stop her and for all the damage caused. Giveuation and his words, he was sent to prison for endangering two minors, negligence, and several other charges. Although it was a reduced senteh parole eligibility. He tur down. He said he wao serve the full sentence. I was handed some papers to sign. One part was for me to be sidered an adult and to take legal custody of my sister. We had no other family members; I had a stable job with a sary suffit to support both of us, and I was ing of age anyway.

  The other half was some iance papers that my father decided to leave us. Acc to what he had said, it was money and some possessions that he already po give us the day I moved in with my sister.

  The trial was quick. The bitch had wreaked havoc before she faced the judge, and my father had already pleaded guilty. It went that fast because the evidence was too clear.

  While things had turned out "in our favor" it was actually much harder than it should have been. My little sister began to suffer stant ay attacks, she had respiratory problems for several years, as a sequence of the damage to her lungs. I had to work much harder than before to pay for her medication and psychologist appois.

  The treatment was slow and difficult for her. I had to get 2 jobs to make up for everything, as the iand my savings were depleting faster and faster. To make it worse, the owner of the apartment where we lived suddenly started charging us more, and since we had no way to move out or even take legal a si would cost a lot to pay wyers and take the case, we had to work hard to make ends meet.

  But, finally, over the years, things got better little by little. I reached 30 and my sister was already 24. By that time, she was doing much better, her physical aal health stabilized and apart from a medicated ihere was no need for any further treatment. Miraculously, I mao save enough money for her to get into college, and she was already pursuing her career. We still lived together, but she was more indepe. It made me a little lonely, but I was more than happy for her.

  Before I k, she started going to church. I was not a believer, so she used to attend alohe good thing about it was that it helped her overe a lot of things. I had some mixed feelings about it, but it was enough for me to know that she was happy.

  Near her 25th birthday, I nning to take her out to have fun with her group of friends. I mao rent a pce where she could enjoy herself with them to the fullest. I would pick her up in the evening, and then we could have some cake at home.

  That was the pn...

  That afternoon, as I was getting everything ready for when I brought her back, someone knocked on the door. We don't normally get visitors; apart from my sister's friends. I assumed it would be a delivery person or something we bought online. I didn't think too much about it. That was my mistake.

  As soon as I opehe door, I felt something stabbing into my chest... then, again... the shod force of the blow made me fall to the ground. In front of me was an elderly woman who lu me a stabbing me again and again. It didn't even hurt... I just... felt nothing. Surely caused by shock, ohat increased the moment I saw who that woman was. It was her. My mother. There were tears in her eyes. She was repeating over and ain the same meaningless words. Her face was frozen in a furious expression. A mask of pure hatred.

  It all happeoo fast. I don't know why, but I didn't even think to defend myself, I just let it all happen.

  Fear, disappoi, betrayal, resignation. Everything I felt at that moment was much more painful than the khat was stantly being plunged into my chest.

  "Is my death...", I thought at that instant. Then more things crossed my mind. "Why me?" I questioned as I bleed out on the floor.

  Was I receiving some kind of divine punishment? Or was it something as simple as “that's how life is”? kind of thing. An injustice that happens just because. Something that happen to a any time. Something that just... happens and that's it.

  It was almost funny, striving for so many years to make my sister have a fortable life, to be able to fulfill her dreams and goals... and in the end, I would be the reason her happiness would be stolen from her.

  The cold began to take over my body, I could barely see or hear anything. I wish I could have at least said something to that woman. Ask her, why was she doing this, and what was it that provoked so much hatred. I really would have liked to know.

  The light faded as I felt o stab right in the heart. I just remember thinking about my sister.

  "Just...please, please, please don't let my death keep her from being happy. That’s all I wish for."