Two in one day... 'cause I don't have much else to do.

From the moment my mother held him in her arms with that soft smile on her lips and the look of adoration in her eyes, I hated him.

I hated him so much.

For the next two years, my parents devoted all their free time to my little brother. I became a nuisance that had to be dropped off on any relative willing to take me. He had stolen my parents' love. I wanted it back.

I didn't plan for it to happen. I never meant for it to happen.

We always played in the backyard. It was fenced and the gate was locked. My brother had learned to open the gate, so my mom kept a close watch on him every time we went outside.

One day in August, the phone rang and my mother went inside to get it saying she'd be back soon. I was supposed to watch my brother.

Suddenly, it hit me. A sinister idea. I opened the gate. My two-year-old brother saw, and like any little adventurer, he went to explore.

We lived on a busy street.

I saw him step off the curb. I saw my brother, a happy smile on his face, just before he disappeared under the car. A screech. A scream. A sickening crunch.

At first, my mother blamed me for not watching him. My father was convinced that it was all her fault. They divorced and I went to live with my dad and his new wife. I love her as if she were my own mother.

And now she's pregnant.