(A/N): I would very much appreciate the reviews of EVERY SINGLE PERSON reading this and any other story I write. Criticism or just plain feedback, I really don't care. I just want to know what you think of what I write.

Prologue

Views on death vary among beliefs. Some say deaths should not be mourned, but instead life should be celebrated. Others tell themselves their loved one is going to a better place. But I don't understand why I should be celebrating the end of such a short life, or how I could possibly know what comes after death. The reason I am telling you all this is because I am still recovering from my first funeral.

It was my father's and we were all taking it hard. Mom was slipping into a depression, I could tell. She shut out my younger brother, Allan, and I. She would lock herself in her room and never come out. And that was when she was home. She began working two jobs, and when I offered to get a job she said no. So I am now taking care of Allan.

Allan, I could tell he was worse than our mother. He was in the car with our Dad. He too had been admitted into the hospital. And he now refuses to speak. He's more timid than he used to be, too. Allan used to be like most other boys. He would come home from baseball practice covered in dirt from head to toe. Now it is as if someone has replaced my little brother.

I could practically see the pieces of my shattering life crumble away right in front of me and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. And to make matters worse, I have seven more days left of summer vacation, seven more days before I'd be forced to put on a straight face and hid my grief from everyone, seven more days until I started high school.