I awoke to find myself standing in front of my home on Earth. I was staring at the house. It had been almost a year since I had left for college and I had only returned a few times during holidays so it had been a while. I had wanted to stay at school and do summer courses, but my parents had insisted that I take a break and come home.

"Don't just stand there!" My mom said, stepping out from behind the car with two of my suitcases. "Your father has been looking forward to seeing you!"

"If he was so excited how come he wasn't out here, waiting for me?" I said and began heading towards the house.

I heard my mom sigh behind me.

"Welcome home!" My dad said as soon as I opened the front door. He ran up to me and hugged me. "You never call so I've been getting lonely."

I pushed him away gently and stepped back.

"I have been busy studying," I replied.

"I know." He said. "But you can't be studying all the time can you?"

"No," I admitted.

"Then make sure you find some time to call from now on. Okay?" He said and smiled.

"Yes, we get worried when we don't hear from you." My mom said before pushing past me and into the house.

My mom called my brother's name. "Your sister is here. Why don't you come and see her?"

"Not now!" I heard him call from farther in the house. "I'm busy!"

My parents sighed.

"Your brother has been difficult lately. Do not mind him." My mom said.

"It's those friends he has been hanging out with recently." My dad said with a dark look on his face. "They're a bad influence on him.

"Let's talk about this later?" My mom said, glancing at me. "She's just gotten home and she doesn't need to worry about her brother."

"You're right, Honey." My dad turned from my mom to me. "I will take your things to your room. You can look in the kitchen for some food or join your brother."

I nodded. I was hungry so a visit to the kitchen was in order. I had hoped to have a grand dinner waiting for me but my dad couldn't cook and my mom had been busy picking me up.

"I need to get back to work soon." My mom said. "I was lucky I got enough time off to pick you up."

"I should get back to work." My dad said. "I have a project deadline coming up soon and it wouldn't be fair to my colleagues if I stay too long."

"I'll see you tonight." My mom said and went back out the front door.

"Let me get these to your room first." My dad said and picked up the luggage my mom had set down.

As I watched my dad go I shook my head. Why did they make a big fuss about missing me and never calling when they left as soon as I got back, but it had been this way long before I had left home. When I was little, I remembered playing with my dad and mom but as they went up in rank at work they began working longer hours and I would often not see them until late at night.

I clenched my fist.

Was it my destiny to end up like them? Only working and sleeping? Until recently I had been content with the thought of it but did I want to be like that?

My stomach rumbled.

I quelled the beast and headed for the kitchen. I rummaged through the fridge and cupboards but only found instant food or snacks.

I sighed. If wanted to eat like this, I could have stayed at college.

I pulled a box of crackers out of one of the cupboards. It wasn't much, but I was not in the mood to even put something in the microwave.

I headed out of the kitchen.

"You didn't bring back much." My dad said as I caught him by the front door as he readied to leave. "Just clothes and textbooks."

"I don't need anything else," I said.

My dad shrugged. "If you say so."

He then opened the front door, waved at me, and left.

"They finally left." I heard my brother say behind me.

I turned around and looked at him. He was still in his pajamas.

"You look as stiff as ever." He said after a moment. "Still being the perfect student?"

My brother looked at me with contempt.

Something had changed with him over the last year. Before he had been eager for my attention, but now…

"I heard you have bad friends," I said.

"My friends are not bad!" He said angrily.

"I also heard you failed some classes."

"So you never call, but you still find out things like that?" He said. I could hear anger creeping into his voice. "Little Miss Perfect here keeping tabs on her idiot brother? Worried about him ruining the family image of intelligence?"

"I stopped expecting that out of you a while ago," I said, beginning to get angry myself.

"So you always expected me to be a failure?" He said, his voice now getting louder as his anger increased.

"No, but I bet you are one now. I bet you've even started drinking and doing drugs with some failure friends you've picked up from the gutters."

My brother stepped up in front of me and pushed his face almost right into mine. He was taller than me so I would have had to look up if I want to see his eyes but I would not look up to him.

"My friends have been better to me than you ever have!" He yelled. I could smell something off about his breath.

"Until you run out of money to buy drugs for them or you get arrested," I said.

"They would never…" I could hear hesitation in his voice.

"Does it matter?" I said. "Your life is already worthless and you will never amount to anything."

My brother raised his fist. It trembled for a moment before he struck me in the face with it.

I staggered backward but managed to not fall. I felt my nose. It wasn't broken but I could feel blood ooze out of it.

"You even hit girls now?" I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

My brother had begun to scare me, but I would do my best to not let it show.

"Are you even a girl?" He said. "Do boys even care about you?"

It was true I didn't care about girly things and never put on makeup. There were more important things than worrying about boys.

"At least I still have my dignity," I said.

My brother lifted his fist again. I flinched, waiting for the blow, but heard a loud thud.

I opened my eyes and saw he had punched the wall instead.

"Leave before I punch you again." He said through clenched teeth.

I looked at him and decided it was best to retreat. I did not want to get punched again.

I walked past him and headed to my room. I was shaken and being by myself for a few hours to cool down would be very welcome.

In the safety of my room I immediately began to regret the things I had said to him. I wished I didn't have the feelings of shame and disrespect when my brother couldn't live up to the expectations I had set for a member of my family. I was a bad person for thinking that way.

If I hadn't been so mean to him over the years, maybe he wouldn't have given up and would still do well in school. If anything, he had been a better person than I had been and he had been doing the best he could while still enjoying life. At least he was enjoying it until I said something to him.

If I had encouraged him instead of belittling him…

I was tired. I didn't want to think about this anymore. Maybe I could apologize to him after taking a nap.

I awoke a few hours later. I was thirsty and headed to the kitchen to get a glass of water. After that, I would look for my brother and apologize to him. If I could bring myself to do it that is.

Just before I entered the kitchen, I looked at the indentation in the wall where my brother had punched it. I then felt my nose.

I had deserved that punch. I had probably deserved the second punch as well, but he had held himself back.

He hadn't deserved an older sister like me. No one deserved an older sister like me.

I walked into the kitchen. No sooner had I done so than I saw the most horrible thing I had ever seen. Laying on the floor in front of me was my brother. A large pool of blood surrounded him and I saw a knife lying next to one of his open hands. He had slit both his wrists.

I immediately felt queasy and threw up. I had never seen so much blood in my life. Not only that, but it was most likely my fault that this had happened.

I threw up again.

I had killed my brother. It wasn't with my own hands, but it was me that had led him to do this.

I looked away from my brother. What was I going to do? What could I do? There was no way he was still alive after having lost that much blood.

Should I check anyway?

I staggered over to the kitchen table, my legs barely holding me up. On it, I saw a note. I immediately knew it was my brother who had written it.

I picked it up, my hands shaking.

The note was short. All it said was, "I can't live in a world where I can't live up to anyone's expectations. No matter what I do, I always seem to fail. Not even my family cares about me."

I dropped the note. I couldn't handle this anymore.

I knew I should have called the police or paramedics, but I couldn't bring myself to face anyone. So I ran to my room and locked the door. I then pushed my dresser in front of the door.

I then began tearing my room apart in rage and self-loathing. I grabbed everything I could and tossed it somewhere else. Everything was fair game, my clothes, a chair, my lamp, books, and everything else I could find that I could move.

I was a horrible person who didn't care for anyone else. My brother hadn't deserved to die. I should have treated him better. I should have supported him and helped him instead of tearing him down.

I finally slumped to my bed. I wanted to disappear. I…

I fell asleep.

I woke up coughing. I had been having a nightmare and was still not sure what was real and what was a dream.

I coughed again.

I opened my eyes and saw that not only was my room filled with smoke, but it was on fire too.

I looked around and saw that my dresser was already completely engulfed. The curtains around my windows had already been burned away and the wall that had been behind them had caught too. A good portion of the clothes I had thrown on the floor were on fire.

I was not sure what had started the fire, but I had to have guessed it was one of the electrical devices I had broken and had then tossed something flammable on.

I found myself smiling. It appeared I would meet my brother soon. I guessed I still might have been able to escape through the window closest to me, but I didn't want to. My brother's death deserved justice.

I lay down and stared at the ceiling. The room was already hot and my lungs were burning from the smoke. I hoped it would be a fast death.

I could feel the fire getting closer. I didn't look but I could tell it would only be moments until it reached my bed. When that happened I imagined the fire would spread rapidly and it would consume me.

I thought about my family, the ones that were still alive. They would lose two loved ones today.

I imagined them crying at the funeral. There would be two caskets. One would be open, my brother laying inside for all to see. The other would be closed, empty, the body meant to fill it having been completely consumed in the fire.

I felt a pain in my chest. My family didn't deserve this. My parents didn't deserve to lose two children, let alone one.

Should I put them through this? Should I give up so easily? Wouldn't a strong person face their mistakes? Wouldn't they face the consequences of their actions?

The truth was, I wasn't a strong person. I only looked at the weaknesses of others and used them to make myself feel better. I had hidden behind my studying and pushed the world away from me.

Could I be a better person? From this moment on could I be someone that I could be proud of? Could I bring myself to open myself up and enjoy life with others?

The fire reached my bed and began consuming it eagerly.

I looked around. Was it still possible to get out of this fire?

My heart sank. The only places still not on fire was half of the wall opposite the windows and the wall I was next to. It wouldn't be long until these too, were on fire.

I backed into the corner, putting as much distance between the fire and myself.

As the fire grew closer, I desired life more the closer it got. Despite the shame and guilt, the desire to live had overpowered them, but it was too late. If I tried for the window it would burn me to death before I got halfway across the room.

"I want to live," I whispered to myself.

Was there any way I would get out of this?

I wanted a second chance at life. I didn't want to die as the person I was. I wanted to start over. I wanted to enjoy life. I wanted to stop hating myself.

The flames licked at my feet. I couldn't go back any farther.

"I don't want to die," I said.

"I don't want to die," I repeated, this time louder.

As the flames neared my feet, I began to say this louder. As the flames began to consume me I began to say it more quickly. Finally, as the pain consumed me as much as the fire, I began to scream.

Then everything went blank.