2. chapter two
And this was the end of the second day of school. I'm fifteen years old and my brother is fourteen, but still in my year. When our mother died He was eight and I was also eight, I turned nine less than a month later. No party. No friends. All I could think about was her and the white walls around her body. Late at night, when dad is a sleep, me and Kyle usually go up in the attic and go through her old photos, and he always ends up crying. I learned not to, but sometimes I can't help my self and we both end up crying.
The rest of the week went through normally; school, friends, films, attic. This Friday me and Kyle were sitting on the cold attic floor, when he passes on to me a photo that says: '2007, home xx' "but this isn't home..." I say to him. The photo showed our mother lying on the green grass reading, surrounded by tall trees. Behind her there's a small cave and an apple tree. "This is the year she dyed...isn't it Mael?"