You clung to your blanket tightly, hoping for even a single bit of warmth from the thin cover. Your brother, who hated you to hell and back, always refused to turn on the heater for you. While you waited you started feeling thirsty so you made your way downstairs to the kitchen for a drink.

On the way, your eyes caught on a single picture hanging on the wall, it was a picture of your brother, father and mother, who had died while giving birth to you.