"My name is Kevin Earling, and I am currently 12 years old."
I had just returned from school and was currently playing on my phone while my brothers were in the bedroom. Even though I'm playing games, I find no satisfaction. I am bored of life; I wonder if I should just end it. I can't stand living in this boring world.
As I was contemplating my thoughts, my mother came in and asked me why I was playing games instead of studying. I got mad and told her I hate school and want to drop out. She, too, got mad and started yelling, but I was too angry to listen to her. Before I knew it, she had left for her bedroom. Just then, I heard faint sounds of crying. At that moment, the world stopped.
I remembered the past, which I had always overlooked. I never really understood her hardships and the sacrifices she made. Ever since I was young, we barely had much. Every time I wanted something, she would find a way to get it for me. Now that I think back on it, most days she came back looking tired and a little sweaty. When I would start noticing and ask questions, she would find a way to distract me and make me forget. I had only thought about the times where I had to use my time to take care of my siblings and asked myself why it had been me and not why it could only be me.
My father had died when I was five, which left me, my mother, and my two younger brothers, Ethan (3) and Ian (1). The death of my father was the only time I ever saw and heard my mother crying. But now I am the reason why my mother is crying. I felt like a failure. I… had failed as a son. All I could hear was her quiet sobbing, which was haunting me. I couldn't take it anymore, so I decided to go to bed. But even then, I couldn't sleep.
I've always gotten bored fast and never really gotten attached to things. Ever since I turned ten, there were multiple times when I wanted to end it all, but every time, my mother and brothers came to mind. I finally realized why, I was attached: I did not want to die before giving everything to them. I wanted to give them everything the world can offer. I want to change—I need to change, for me and my family. For the first time in my life, I finally felt like I had a purpose—like I wasn't walking a path that I did not choose. With this, I could finally give a genuine smile after a long time and fall asleep.
"KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK."
"KNOCK."
"KNOCK KNOCK."
"My eyes opened."
There was knocking. I got up groggy and tired and went to the door, then looked through the peephole. I saw police officers and opened the door. "Hello, do you need something?" I spoke. The police asked me if there was an adult here. I told them that my mother should be back any minute. They went quiet and then asked me if my mother was the only adult here. I told them yes, she was. "Why?" They went quiet again as I grew more confused.
They then sighed, and one of them took a knee, put his hand on my shoulder, and told me they had bad news. I was getting a little restless as I finally asked what the bad news was. "Your... your mother was in an accident."
"Crack."
The world came to a stop for a second time that day. Something was broken, and I don't know what. Everything went blank as I continued to ask myself,
"WHY…WHY..WHY?"
"WHY? WHY? WHY?"
"WHY ME?"
"KID. KID."
"Hey, Kid."
I came back to my senses as I was being shaken by the officer. They asked me if I was alright. I said I was fine. The officers looked at each other before sighing and asked me if I had any other relatives they could contact. I told them no; I've never met any other relatives.
I then heard footsteps; my siblings had woken up because of the noise. I went to them and held on. They were the only thing I had left in this world. Time went by fast after this moment; my brothers and I were separated and sent to an orphanage. I was the only one left in the orphanage. I'm glad they were adopted; at least they had a good life ahead of them. But after they left, everything felt empty.
Three years later.
I just turned 15 and was walking back to the orphanage after school when I noticed a boy being bullied by three people. He looked familiar. He looked like my younger brother Ethan, but I decided to ignore it and walk away. Until I heard one of the boys calling him "Ethan." I immediately turned around, took off my backpack, held it in one hand, and rushed at the bullies. I managed to knock one down with a hit to the head with my backpack. Before the other two could come to their senses, I threw my backpack at one of them and lunged at another, hitting him straight on the chin before rushing back to the other one and punching and kicking him until he fell down. I was breathing heavily when I was done.
I then turned to my brother and called out his name. But then he shouted to watch out as I felt a pain on the back of my head. I fell down and touched the part where the pain was coming from, only to see blood when I looked at my hand. I then looked at one of the bullies; he had a metal pipe in his hand. As my vision continued to dim, I saw the bullies freaking out and running away. Ethan came closer and called out my name. As everything grew darker, I held on to Ethan. As tears fell down my eyes, I wanted to say I loved him and that I wanted to do more for him and Ian but before I could darkness claimed me.