-Lucian-
It was a challenge to make sense of my brother’s words. How could he claim he gave me a life when I was perfectly happy with my family? I loved my parents. I cherished my home. I valued the life I had before.
So, no, he did not grant me a life, or... he gave me a rotten one. He had no clue about the struggles I endured just to survive. So no, he did not gift me a life.
I sensed my brother could feel the change in mood, but he simply smiled at me, prompting me to shake my head.
“The last thing you gave me was a life,” I said. “The things I was forced to do to survive... How can you ask me to be your family again when you never came to get me?”
“Did you want me to?”
I glanced at my brother, who seemed to be studying me, probably looking for honesty in my words. Did I? Over the
