"Sam? Sam?" I hear Alex just outside my room. I'll just pretend to be asleep. The door opens and Alex comes in. "Sis?"

I don't reply nor do I  move.

"I know you're upset with the whole new siblings thing but don't ignore me."

I look up. Alex is standing just inside the room. His eyes are glossy. He's trying to suppress tears.

"I know I wasn't myself before. When you said no I should've listened the first time, but you have to understand. I-"

I hold up a hand and he stops. Typical Alex taking the blame for everything. I hate it. Why doesn't he understand that not everything is his fault?

"Stop, please. You need to stop blaming yourself, okay? I don't know why you always doubt yourself and think everything you do is wrong 'cause it's not. Nothing you ever did was wrong."

Everything's my fault actually. I always take my frustration out on him when he doesn't deserve it. But it's not only my fault. It's Dad's. I wasn't there twenty-four years ago when Dad met Anja. I wasn't there when he married Mum.

I grab my diary and usher Alex over. I open it to where I started writing Dad's story. "Here, read."

Alex shakes his head. "No, I'm not reading your diary. That's your personal stuff."

"You want to know whatever the hell it is I do when I want to drown in misery? I write in here. So just read it, please."

"But-"

"Read it!" I shove the diary into his hands and he reluctantly obeys.

I watch Alex as his eyes roam over the words and he frowns. Then slowly the corners of his mouth twitch as he read the last few words. He hands the diary back to me and his eyes meet mine.

"What?" I ask. "What's funny?"

"I'm pretty sure Dad never included that much detail when he told us the story. 'Alaric still felt the warmth on his cheek'? 'Her eyes were the colour of a cloudless summer sky'? Please. It can't have been that romantic." He giggles and shakes his head.

"Oh trust me. It had to be romantic or Dad would've never... um..." I let voice trail off when I notice Alex's smile fade. "What is it?"

He lies back on the bed but doesn't reply.

"Alex what's wrong? Did I say something?"

If it wasn't for his breathing, I would've thought he was dead. His expression is the same as in the morning. Lost. Out of this world. Dreadfully slowly seconds pass.

"Alex please."

He turns his head to look at me and smiles. His smile grows into a grin and soon he's laughing. I just stare at him, completely incredulous.

After a few minutes, he calms down enough to form a response. "You should have seen the look on you face. It was hilarious. I should freak you out more often."

"Well I'm glad you find my concern for you amusing. Maybe I should shut you out more often."

I turn away from him and look at the floor, noticing the mix of blues in the carpet for the first time in three years.

"But you never shut me out. I mean you never used to anyways," he says quietly.

His words take me by surprise, even though they're true. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean."

When I don't reply, he sighs and continues, "We used to be so close before, telling each other everything and trying to conquer the world together. But now I feel like we're drifting apart, and this"-he gestures to my diary- "is only proof of that. Mum's disappearance has built a wall between us."

The carpet turns into a pool of blood and Mum's body is slowly floating across it. A wave of nausea suddenly hits me and I run to the bathroom. I throw up in the toilet and when I'm done, I flush it and rinse my mouth. Then I sit against the bathtub and pull my knees to my chest, resting my head on them.

"Sis, are you okay?"

No I'm not okay. I never have been okay. I don't think I will be okay ever again.

"I'm fine," I reply without looking up.

"Why are you crying?"

"I'm not."

"You are. You always sit like that when you cry."

"I'm not crying." I look up.

"You are, look in the mirror."

I already know I'm crying because I can feel the tears escaping and rolling down my cheeks. "I'm just tired, so so tired."

Alex crouches in front of me and puts a hand on my shoulder.

"So am I sis. But we'll get through it, okay?"

"How?"

"We just do what we always do. We keep on going without looking back."

"I don't know if I can."

I don't know if I can do anything anymore. All I want to do is curl up in my room and never come out again. Maybe that way everyone will soon forget about me and I can pretend I don't exist.

"You have to Sam. If we cling to the past, the future will never come."

He's right. I can't keep looking back. I have to embrace the changes and keep moving forward. I can't let the past keep me in shackles. I need to break free. I will break free.

"Okay," I say, "I'll try."