I stood there and watched my own parents bury an empty coffin. I was supposed to lay down dead in that coffin. They though I was dead. I saw tears starting to roll down my mother's face as she fell down to her knees. My father kneeled down and comforted her as she cried. The longer they were there, the more my father looked sad and after a while he was in tears. I have never seen my father cry, he always was the strong one and kept the family together. Our family was far from perfect, but I loved it. Now it's just too late...
My father use to tell me that every story has it's starts and every story has it's endings. This is where my story will start and the ending is somewhere unknown yet.
