Anguish and pain consumed me as I collapsed in the rubble I used to call home. I tried to choke back the tears and not break down at the thought of my parent's bodies- mangled and distorted- somewhere in the ruins. My lungs felt constricted as I tried to breathe- ending up gulping for air. I felt dizzy trying to understand what had just happened. Due to this calamity I had lost everything: my family, my house, my future but most saddening of all- hope. All of it had faded before my eyes.
My mind became fuzzy and scrambled up as I tried to sort out how to deal with this disaster. As my mind and reason was unfocused and on temporary lock down I couldn't comprehend nor understand my situation. My two siblings Hamza and Ali- who were waiting for me to figure something out- were completely forgotten as an ocean of misery and suffering of the bittersweet unfairness of the world devoured and engulfed me whole.
My senses were all over the place detaching me from everyone else to my own personal hell- my memories. I knew I was shaking, trying very hard not to break down and lose it, as I drowned in memories of a happy life in self pity and regret.
A piercing cry, worse than anything I've ever heard in my life, shocked me out of my numb coma-like state. My eyes swerved towards the source of the cry to identify it as Ali on Hamza's lap sobbing. He was glaring at me viciously whilst crying softly himself and it hit me. I wasn't allowed to be selfish or wallow in self pity because I had the overburdening responsibility as the eldest of us all to be the adult in their life. My life no longer belonged to me as I had to dedicate it to my siblings welfare and survival.