• They said that the pain would go away, eventually leaving my heart. They said that the time would heal my wounds and would make me forget. But those were only empty promises. They were all wrong. It's been nine years since the gun fight had tragically landed my beloved older brother in a coma. It's been nine years since he ever opened his eyes, and it's been eight years since they gave up on him.
    And the pain hasn't gone away yet. Jonas, my brother, was my best friend, my worst enemy, and my companion when my social life was falling apart. He was my idol and my parents' pride and joy. But on June 11th, he was cornered on Matchil Street and was shot in the head.The hospital had seen how bad he was injured, so they let us pay off the fee within a few years. My parents became depressed and I had to quit school and find a job to support them. Jonas was in a coma for a year and when they had to let go of him, I screamed and struggled to stop them, but they won over me. I almost fell into depression, but I knew that I had to support my parents. Now, eight, nine years after all of that, my parents are gone and I'm a depressed mess.