My name is Kevin Earling. I'm twelve years old.
That should mean something, right? Like birthdays, games, maybe some fun. But not for me. I had just gotten home from school, and like most days, I threw myself into my phone—games, mindless tapping—just trying to feel something. But I didn't. I never do.
It's strange. You'd think the bright colors and fake coins would distract me. But it doesn't. I feel... nothing. I don't know how to explain it. I'm not sad, not angry—not exactly. I'm just... done. Done with everything. Sometimes I think... What if I just ended it? Would it really matter?
I didn't get far in that thought. My mom walked in.
"Why are you playing games instead of studying?" she snapped.
And just like that, it all boiled over.
"I hate school! I want to drop out!"
She yelled back. I don't even remember what she said. I wasn't listening. I was just... loud. Anger drowning out everything else. Then, silence. She stormed off to her room.
And then... I heard it.
Crying.
Soft, muffled, the kind of sound that slices through your soul. I froze.
It's not like I hadn't heard her cry before. Once—when Dad died. I was five. That night never left me. But this? This was different. Because this time... it was because of me.
Time stopped.
I sat there, thinking about all the things I never said. All the things I never saw. Or maybe... refused to see. The way she'd come home exhausted but still smile. The way she'd hide her pain behind jokes, distract me when I asked too many questions.
I used to complain that I had to take care of my brothers. That I didn't get time to be a kid. But I never thought about how she never got time to just be... a person. A woman. A mother grieving her husband, raising three boys alone.
Why did it have to be me, I used to wonder.
But now I get it.
It could only be me.
I laid in bed that night, trying to sleep, but the silence just got louder. I thought about all those times I wanted to end it. All the moments I felt like life wasn't worth it.
But every time... I'd see their faces. Ethan. Ian. Mom.
I get it now.
I never wanted to die—I just wanted the pain to stop. I didn't want to leave them. I wanted to protect them. Give them everything this world stole from us.
That night, for the first time in a long time, I smiled. A real smile.
And I slept.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
I woke up groggy. Who the hell knocks that early?
I went to the door, looked through the peephole—two police officers.
"Hi," I said. "Can I help you?"
"Is there an adult here?"
"My mom should be back soon."
They hesitated. Looked at each other.
"Is she the only adult?"
"…Yeah. Why?"
Silence.
Then one of them kneeled down, looked me in the eyes, and said the words I never wanted to hear.
"There's been an accident. Your mother… she didn't make it."
Crack.
I heard it. Something inside me. Something broke.
The world stopped... again.
"Why... why… WHY?"
I couldn't stop screaming it inside my head. Why now? Why her? Why me?
"KID!"
The officer shook me. I blinked, breathing hard.
They asked if there was anyone else. Any relatives.
I shook my head. No one. It's just us.
Just me... and them.
Ethan and Ian had woken up by then. I don't remember what I said. I just remember holding them. Tight. Like I'd never let go.
But eventually... I had to.
They took us. Split us up. Sent us to different places. I ended up in an orphanage. They didn't. They got adopted.
I told myself that was a good thing. They deserved better. At least they had a chance.
But after they left... the silence came back. And this time, it was heavy. Final. Like nothing was ever going to fill the space they left behind.
Three Years Later
Fifteen. I'm fifteen now.
I was walking home from school, past some alley, when I saw it—three kids picking on a smaller boy.
I was going to ignore it. I've seen enough crap to know when to walk away.
But then I heard one of them say, "Ethan."
I stopped cold.
No.
It couldn't be.
I turned. Looked again.
It was him.
I dropped my bag. Rage filled me like fire. I swung the bag at one of the bullies, hit him square in the head. Threw the bag at another, then ran up and punched the third in the face.
Fists. Kicks. Pure instinct.
When it was over, I turned to him. "Ethan?"
His eyes widened. "Kevin?!"
And then—he screamed.
"WATCH OUT!"
Pain. Blinding pain. Something hit me in the back of the head.
I hit the ground.
I felt blood. My hand came away red.
I turned and saw one of the bullies holding a metal pipe.
My vision dimmed. My limbs grew heavy.
Ethan was screaming. Running to me.
I wanted to say something.
"Tell Ian I love him."
"I missed you."
"I wanted to do more. I'm sorry I couldn't."
But I couldn't say anything. Not in time.
Everything went dark.