Why? Why do I still live? Why does a guilty one like me still walk the face of the Earth?

I remember; I am the one responsible. It was me who started the fight. It was me who led them to their deaths. It was me who was to blame. And it still is. Or should be.

Their deaths have troubled and hurt many others so. But where am I, the murderer? Living under their noses.

It all started on my birthday.

My parents came home late from work, tired and stressed, but still happy. I was at home, waiting for their return. I remember the look on my mother's face when she came home. Just like she always did, she had a warm look on her face as I welcomed her home. She was tired, but she strived on to smile. Even my father was trying his best to look happy for my sake. But if I had just known then, I’d notice that they were stressed and tired. But did I care? Noo. The little brat me just wanted what was coming that day. Spoiled as I was, all I wanted was my birthday present.

And that was where the entire problem started. My parents had a long day at work, so they forgot their daughter’ birthday. Their ONLY daughter’s birthday. If that wasn’t shocking enough to the 5 year old me, what more of the fact that if they had forgotten, where would my present be? I was frustrated. I shouted at them, called them mean things, & stormed out of the house.

Now, a little girl like me shouldn't have left the house all by myself. However, my parents trusted me. They both knew that if I were ever upset, they’d find me at the park I always hid at. So instead of chasing after me or stopping me halfway through the door, my parents always waited awhile; and when I was all calmed down, then they’d find me and take me home.

​But on that day, it never happened. I remember waiting for them to find after I had calmed down. But from evening, the day turned to dusk. Where were they? It was taking them longer than they should have.

“Maybe they were getting a party ready for me so they didn’t need me to come home so soon.” I had thought. So instead of walking back home myself, I continued to wait.

But the day continued to darken as I stared into the sky. A lone child in an empty park in the night. Seriously, where were my parents? They should have known to never have left me alone till this late, they would have always found me before dusk. Bored as I was, I walked home, alone.

As I continued to walk, I had thoughts in my head. Maybe they wanted to surprise me, maybe they wanted to welcome me home as they should have; what if they were waiting for me at home? I was excited. But just before arriving at the crossroad which I would have to cross to get home, my aunt was there waiting for me. Excited yet puzzled at her appearance, I asked for my parents. Turning away, she silenced for a while before speaking.

My aunt told me what had happened. She had arrived at my house after I stormed out; she had remembered my birthday when my parents didn’t. There, she saw my parents doing exactly as I had wanted, they were getting my birthday ready for me as I was not home and she had helped them. But all of them had lost track of time that it was already night. Fears of me being alone in the night and having not returned yet, my parents rushed out to find me.

But along the way, a nightmare happened. At the crossroad we met, just as the pedestrian light was green, a car crossed. But what was even tragic was the fact that my parents were in the middle of the road at that time. And the car had crashed into them.

I remember that after all that had happened, when we finally returned to my now empty home, I could see; the setting, the decorations, everything. Everything that would have been a perfect birthday party. The untouched cake. The decorations. Walking up to the table that should have been crowded with my family members as I blew the candles, I see a lone box on the table; what would have been followed by my parents smiling faces.

Indeed, it was a tragedy to many that my parents died. However, it would not have hurt them as much as it had hurt me so. The one traumatized by their deaths should be me. And it is.

However, today I live life as my parents would want me to do. I know that deep down that I am not forgiven, but at least I hope living the life they'd want me to would help me repent. Cause let's face it, I'd dishonor them living the way they'd hate or even worse, Suicide.