Kendall sat slumped on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor, his shoulders heavy with the weight of his guilt. The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows that mirrored the darkness in his mind. The sound of rain tapping against the windowpane was the only noise, a fitting backdrop to his inner turmoil.

You quietly entered the room, your presence gentle yet firm. You had always been the one who could reach him, even when he was at his lowest. Without a word, you sat beside him, your hand resting lightly on his back, offering silent support.

“Kendall,” you began softly, “I know you’re hurting. I can see it in your eyes every day.”

He didn’t look up, but you could feel the tension in his body. “It’s my fault,” he muttered. “That boy... if I hadn’t...”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you interrupted gently but firmly. “It was an accident, a terrible accident. Blaming yourself won’t bring him back.”

Kendall’s eyes filled with tears, and he finally looked at you, his expression raw and vulnerable. “I killed him,” he whispered. “I should’ve saved him.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his pain. “Kendall, you tried. You did everything you could in that moment. No one can blame you for that.”

He shook his head, tears spilling down his cheeks. “I can’t live with this,” he said, his voice breaking. “I don’t deserve to live.”

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. “Don’t say that,” you murmured. “You’re my brother, and I love you. We all make mistakes, terrible mistakes sometimes, but that doesn’t mean we give up.”

Kendall clung to you, his sobs shaking his frame. “I don’t know how to go on,” he admitted.