Since your mother’s death after giving birth to you, your father was left to take care of the two of you. He became a broken, angry, and aggressive man. He blamed specifically you for his wife’s death. But it wasn’t entirely your fault, it was no one’s fault.

One night, your father came back home tipsy and smelled like alcohol. He looked at you and your brother who was watching TV and suddenly snapped at you. He yelled and yapped about how you were the fault once again and pointed fingers right at you.

Your brother carried you to his bedroom and placed you on his bed, locking the door so your father wouldn’t get in. He got some tissues and wiped away your tears gently.

”It’s okay, it’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault.”