Invisible

Just me.

Hi, my name is kassandra, but everyone calls me Kass. It's shorter and a lot easier than saying my whole name. I am 16 years old. I was born in Michigan in a small hospital in a very small town. My childhood was amazing! Always getting what I wanted and doing whatever. Me and my parents used to do such fun things together like go to the movies or to the mall. My only brother was a joy to be around. He were always happy and always made me laugh. Suddenly at the age of 10 this all stopped. My world changed and everything became distant. Everyone became a memory, a painful memory I wished would come back.

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One morning on a cold and rainy day, when I was about 10 my mom came into the room. We had exciting plans! "Wake up! Hurry get up!"
"What are we doing?" I asked shivering from the cold morning air.
"We're going on vacation! As a family!!" I got dressed super quick and ate breakfast, we all piled into the car, we were heading to Disney world. When we got in me and my brother were extremely excited. We started playing around with each other, laughing and goofing off. He'd hit me, I'd hit him. My mother kept turning around and telling us to stop. We didn't listen...she finally turned around one last time and told us to knock it off. She was looking away from the road too long and ran a stoplight. No big deal though right? Everybody runs stop lights....wrong. There was a semi coming from the right, where my brother was sitting. Semis can't stop quick enough which is why it rammed us in the side. I ducked below the seats and my mother screamed. When I sat back up the car was in the ditch and the truck tipped over in the middle of the road. My brother was gone, instantly pronounced dead. It was bad, he was torn up pretty bad.
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Ever since that incident my parents no longer pay attention to me. They blame me for the whole thing! My mom says if I wasn't playing with him she wouldn't have had to turn around and take her eyes off the road. According to my parents, I am the reason they only have a daughter now. I am like a murderer in a weird way. I believe them though. I feel guilty, like maybe it is my fault. I beat myself up every day because of it, I feel like I'm in a pool drowning in my own guilt and fear. My parents said that God took the wrong kid. That I should've died and not him. Do you know
How it feels to be told that? It hurts, frikken hurts!.....