Dead Birthday, The Brother’s Return

When I was ten, I begged my brother to come home for my birthday.

The plane went down. He was gone, his body never recovered from the wreckage.

From that day on, I became the villain in my parents' eyes. A thorn in their hearts that they wished to pull out.

They blamed me for his death. Every year, on his memorial, they forced me to kneel at the cemetery and beg for forgiveness.

I spent eight years on my knees.

I thought I would spend my whole life paying for that mistake. But on my eightee