What if I just kept walking? That's what I asked myself today. Maybe it would be for the better. Everytime I walked into that house my stepmom reminds me of every bad thing I've done. And even though it was her pure lazyness that caused the accident, she still blames me. Thats the main reason I don't want to go back. That house is a reminder of his missing presence.

I was sixteen, just learning to drive. My dad had remarried after his divorce with my mom, who I haven't seen since. He remarried 2 months after claiming he was happier. He was. He children on the other hand, were the complete opposite. He remarried a woman named Margo, who thought she was the boss of the house. A month later it was my sixteenth birthday. Margo pushed me to get my drivers license that day. I hadn’t thought anything of it, I thought she was just eager to get to watch me drive for the first time. I was wrong. A week after I had gotten my license Margo put my little brothers carseat in my car and demanded I take him to school every day. I listened. But one day, I had overslept and I was very tired. I tried to tell Margo to take him to school herself, so I could walk. My house was was within walking distance of the high school, so the only reason I drove my car was to drop my brother off at school. Margo was yelling at me, expecting me to listen to her and take my brother to school. I did. I was practically falling asleep at the wheel. My eyes had drifted closed as I heard the loud ringing of a truck horn. The next few hours were a blur. I remember waking up in the hospital bed, my stepmother right beside me. I thought she was there to comfort me, as I had been in a car crash just a few hours earlier. Instead, she was screaming at me. The pain in my head was growing as she continued yelling at me. Now, I don’t remember exactly what she said, but it was all about how it was my fault my brother was dead. I was shocked. The tears flowed out of my eyes like waterfalls. My brother was dead. The realization hit hard. I only ended up with a concussion and a few broken bones. As for my brother, he ended up without a life. Now, it wasn’t really my fault. But in my heart I still belive that it wasn’t Margo’s fault, it was mine.

I hated when my mind trailed back to this memory. It was a memory that was hard to forget when my stepmom was always bringing it up. My dad hasn’t looked at me the same since that day. That was part of the reason I wanted to leave. With one parent out of my life and another who hates me for killing their child, what do I have left for me? I have been changed since that day too. I stopped using my car. I just walk to and from school. As I was walking today, I stopped right by my turn to get home. What if I never went back? Well, I guess we’re going to find out. I hung my head again and walked past my street. I didn’t know where I was headed, but it wasn’t home. I plan on sleeping out at the park. I still had a few hours of daylight remaining. Instead of heading towards the park, I walked towards the graveyard. I had that place memorized by now. I walked straight towards my brothers gravestone. When I arrived, I noticed the flowers I placed last visit were wilted. The picture of us on Christmas when I was thirteen was still tightly taped on the stone. I sat down and got a better look at the picture. My brothers wide smile was pointed directly at the camera. I was so happy in that photo. If only I could recreate that photo now. Now, I don’t exactly know how this awful thought creeped into my head but, I wish it were Margo in that car with me, not my brother. I wish it were her dead. I just sat, my back against the headstone. The tears rolled down my face as I sobbed into my hands. My thoughts replayed in my head I felt awful but, part of me felt better. _I wish it were Margo dead, not my brother._