I don't know why everybody just found it easier to blame me for my little brother Linkon's death. Maybe it was easier to put the blame on a scrowny 17-year-old boy with self esteem issues who cannot defend himself than manning up to their own mistakes.
The accident happened eight months ago. I was in the backseat with my brother and elder sister Bianca and our parents in the front seats. I started arguing with Lincon as we usually did and dad who was on the wheel turned slightly to face is and tell me to stop disturbing my brother.Right at that moment our car crashed head on with another car going the opposite direction. I don't want to go into details but I remember the sharp cry of pain Lincon gave before everything came to a complete stop and pure silence reigned save for the sounds the engine was making. I hadn't hurt myself except for the strain the seat belt had on me to keep me in my seat. Bianca was unconscious but my parents were starting to regain consciousness. I tried to check on Lincon but turns out I was hurt after all: I couldn't turn my head to the left. My neck was so painful. When mum looked at us a horrified expression took over her face. Pure dread and disbelief. She gave out a silent scream as her features all froze and her eyes remained glued on Lincon.
With my heart racing in my chest, the pain in my neck forgotten, I turned to look at my brother and wished I had never done so immediately. The image of what I saw that day will remain transfixed in my mind for eternity. Right by my side, my brother sat motionless with a large piece of glass fixed right at his throat all the way into the backseat. His eyes were wide open and his lower body was all covered in blood, his blood.
A few months after the burial of Lincon, mum passed on too. She couldn't bare life without her golden boy. Being the striking image of my mum, my father started ignoring me completely. I guess I reminded him of what he used to have. I bet he wished I was the who died that day instead of Lincon. Bianca resorted to making herself busy to null the pain. She indulged herself in fashion and design, social media and started travelling a lot. With dad mostly on business trips, I was left all alone in my dads gigantic mansion. Alone to grieve and wallow in pain and devastating sorrow that never seemed to end. Alone with no one to lean on and get comforted.
That was until I met Alec. They moved next to our home about a month after my mother's passing on. And although he was three years my senior, in him I found comfort and peace. With him I could forget my pains and afford a smile once in a while. At least he accepted me for who I was: with my skinny body and striking resemblance to my mother giving me almost feminine features. He never once judged me. We formed a bond and he became the closest person to me. My sister loved me, yes, but no one, not even her took care of me like Alec did. We were like two sides of the same coin with our interests alike and all.
I felt like I had know him forever which is not as much as I could say for his elder brother Derick. I could swear that Derick hated the very being of me. He avoided me and called me names and sometimes in Alec's absence he even bullied me. That's why I always tried my best to avoid going to their house and thus most times Alec and I spent in our empty mansion.