I took a step back, “if this is your idea of a joke it’s not funny.” I said as memories of the accident flashed before my eyes. I could even feel the same pain and helplessness I felt back then when I wasn’t able to save my little brother.
“It’s not a joke. I don’t see why I would joke about such a thing.” Mitch said as he moved closer to me, but I took another step back.
“Who put you up to this?” I asked as I started to pace around the room.
Mitch stopped me and placed a piece of a picture of us, as a family, in my hand. We were all holding ice creams in our hands and making silly faces. “I have this but I don’t remember anything about this day,” he stated.
“Yaay Christmas carnival.” Eleven-year-old me cheered excitedly as I raced my brother to the car. “I called shotgun!” I yelled wh
