I woke up sitting in a shower with a headache and aching limbs.

Everything hurt.

But what hurt the most of all was the thought that I was actually alone in all of this pain.

My father and I have never been as close as him and Jason, and I would always resent Jason for that. I guess that's because he was their first born child or because he was a boy. I didn't know and honestly didn't care.

I had my mother, she and I were like best friends; we would always talk about everything and everyone. She always had answer and solution for everything.

Her death hit me very hard and deep and I was bereaved for a very long time. I even locked myself in my room and refused to come out. Jason was the one who convinced me to leave my room and come with him. In that time I was very grateful that I had a brother like him.    

I felt the forming fresh tears rolling down my face just by thinking of the two of them. I missed them so damn much.    

I didn't want to be alone with my dad. He was always trying to stay as distant from me as possible and that hurt me. He would occasionally ask me questions about school or my friends and that was it, we never talked about anything else.    

I never asked why because I was scared what answer might be. So I stayed silent and only answered to questions he asked me, I didn't even bother to start a conversation with him. After a while it became like a well practiced routine for me.

After my mother, the first person to ever understand me was my brother. As much as I hate to admit it, he was an amazing older brother. He was always there for me after our mother's death and was always looking out for me, even though I was a little harsh on him and shoving him off a couple of times with words 'I'm not a little kid anymore. I can look out for myself'.

But he didn't listen to me. He never listened to me. And I didn't know should I be angry with him for not listening and looking out for me like I was toddler or happy that I had such a caring brother. I was confused. I was always confused about my feelings.    

That's why I still needed my mother. She always read me like an open book and knew exactly what I was feeling before I even said it. I needed her so much in moments like these or when Jason and I had one of our many fights. Before she died she always scolded Jason and me for our pointless fights and told us that even though sometimes some things seem like they are broken it doesn't mean they can't be fixed.    

After she died our fights got worse. She wasn't there to scold me and Jason for our indecently behavior and so we continued to bicker over irrelevant things. I really missed her.    

And I missed Jason as well. After all he was the one who taught me how to write and read because our parents were always busy. When I went to the first grade I already knew how to write and read, which most kids of my age didn't.    

He taught me how to ride a bike and after many efforts and fails I made it. Because it was all for him, it was to make him proud. He was my motivation for almost everything. But soon after things started to change.

He was the golden boy at home and also in school and that made me jealous.

I was always jealous at how he got more attention than me so I started making myself more visible than him. For example, I studied every day and every night so I could be the top student at our school or how was I always pointed out in class for being 'Know it all' but I didn't care. All I wanted was for my parents to notice me and I thought that by turning myself into my brother, the child they were so proud of, that would be possible.

But I was wrong. I was doing great at school and all of my classmates were jealous of me at how smart I was for my age but my parents didn't notice any of that; well my mother did. I came to believe that my father never loved me in any way but I didn't tell anyone that, instead I wrote that in my journal.    

The journal that was full with secrets that I haven't told anyone, not even my mum. The journal that Jason started reading right before he was killed.

I was angry at him for invading my privacy but I was more scared of what he would think of me once when he read all of my darkest secrets and so I reacted without thinking; something I've always done.

I regretted that now,but it was too late. The damage was already done and there was nothing that I could do which could make things better.   

I sank deeper in the shower and let my mind flow with memories of Jason and thoughts of what could have happen if I just let him explain himself instead of yelling at him.

I knew what would happen. He would never leave home and he would be still alive. This only means that I was the one who pushed him into his death.It was my entire fault.    

My thoughts were interrupted by someone's knocking on the bathroom door.