All conscious creatures, no matter the species or location, have but one thing in common: choice.

  It can divide or unite us, endanger or save us; it's an evolutionary trait meant for the survival of organisms big and small; however, every choice made comes with a consequence.

  When making a choice, responsibility is a must, and escaping the consequences of your actions is something impossible; you're stuck with them whether you like it or not.

  But what if going back was an option?

  Would you go back?

  Would different decisions actually improve your life?

  When I was younger, everyone I knew told me the importance of choice and the regrets that come with it, and Even though I understood it in concept, I never could accept it.

  Why can't all options be chosen?

  Why should I live wondering if my choices were wrong?

  I grew up wondering if there were any ways I could get everything I wanted, but now that I am older, I realize there aren't.

  We can't go back, and even if we could, the consequences would be dire, and most probably nothing would actually change, so why can't I accept it?

  Oh, I know it's probably because of him, my brother, the one I looked up to.

  Yes, he was young and made a lot of mistakes and bad decisions, but the choices he made definitely shouldn't have led up to that day.

  It was Wednesday, seven thirty pm; cram school had just ended, and we were looking forward to a whole month with our parents after their arrival from overseas work.

  Everything was going great. But on our way home, while we were talking about what we'd do first as a family, I felt that he wasn't all there, as if something was bothering him, so I asked,

  "Hey, Till, whatchu thinking bout?"

  "Is it Venna? D'she get angry at chu again?"

  "You really should be listen'n to her..."

  He interrupted me, which was very unlike him.

  "No, she didn't say anything."

  "I am just thinking about tests."

  After saying that I knew something was wrong, he acted way too distant.

  Usually we talk using sng when it's only us, not just that. He kept on saying he's "excited" for tonight, which I at the time didn't know the reason for, but now that I think about it, he was probably referring to what happened at midnight.

  When we arrived home, Till opened the door using his key, and then we entered.

  Though we were talking about our parents earlier, he didn't seem all that "excited" to meet them after so long, so I took that as him just feeling nervous now that the moment has finally come, grabbing his arm I pulled him searching the house for our parents until I found them standing suspiciously in front of the garage door, definitely hiding something.

  After spotting us, they unhooked my hand from Till's arm and blindfolded us, taking us to the inside of the garage and removing the blindfolds to reveal a car, but not just any car; it was Till's dream car, a dark blue Reveen.

  Still shocked from their gift, I turned towards him, hoping to see tears of gratefulness flowing down his cheeks, but all I saw was a drawn smile and eyes full of disinterest.

  'Had he been expecting this?''No, it's not possible. We hadn't talked to them these past few weeks.'

  opening my mouth to ask him, he interrupted me again and said,

  "Thank you, mother and father, for this perfect gift."

  "It was exactly what I desired."

  At that point, even our parents noticed he was acting weird, but they didn't say anything for some reason until tomorrow morning.

  After admiring the car (mostly me and Dad), we went into the living room and began chatting, talking about all we experienced in the past two years apart. But before we noticed, three hours had passed, so we wrapped up our discussions and headed off to sleep.

  *I see a man, a snake—no, it's a goat.*

  *opening its mouth and speaking pure gibberish, puking out a bunch of people, who all seemed to vaguely resemble me; but suddenly a light creeped in, and BOOM!*

  Jolting up from a deep sleep, my head collides with the bedframe, producing a loud THUD. Trying to alleviate the pain, I get out of bed in search of ointment; however, on the way there, a heinous scream followed by mischievous cackling immobilizes me until the sound becomes all too familiar: Till!

  I rushed to his room, stopping in front of the door; once again, screams echoed throughout the halls, curious I peeked through the small gap between the frame and door, half expecting it to be some sort of eborate prank.

  But what I saw was appalling: the grinning face of my brother surrounded by a bluish-red ring of fire engulfed in ominous bck sparks.

  At that point terror overcame me. This was obviously not a joke of any kind.

  I tried running away, but my legs froze. I thought of staying outside waiting for him to finish and expin what was happening; however, my curiosity took the better of me, and I had no choice but to confront him now.

  Gaping open the door, a blinding light flooded from behind me, cshing with the fmes and sparks, causing a BANG! and rendering me unconscious.

  The next day I woke up in my bed feeling more refreshed than usual, wondering if what I saw the night before had been a lucid nightmare, but just to make sure, I pced my right hand on my forehead, checking for the bump I got from colliding with the frame of my bed, and to my pleasure there were no marks or bruises on it; however, the same cannot be said about my arm; it had weird marks on it.

  A burn wound that looked like a circle with four linear scars inside

  taking this as a bad omen I hurried over to Till's room to check on him, and when I opened the door, I couldn't help but scream loudly and in pure agony. He was dead. My brother was dead—not a murder or accident; it was a suicide. I y down on the floor, color leaving my face, turning it into nothing but a shell of its former self.

  I kept on screaming and repeatedly asking myself, Could I have done something?

  Why didn't I question him harder yesterday?

  But I knew the answers to my questions and couldn't help but cry until my parents came to check up on me, and seeing that horrid scene, it's still stuck in my head.The bloodied floor and handmade noose still haunt me to this day.

  After the incident we held a funeral. It wasn't a big one, it only consisted of close friends and family.

  I saw his girlfriend Venna bawling her eyes out and covering her face.

  She couldn't believe it either. She was practically my sister, coming over every day and hanging out on the weekends.

  She and I knew him best. He wouldn't do this. He couldn't do this. He was strong but cowardly. Even if he would have killed himself, it wouldn't be like this.

  Something is wrong, but no one would believe a high school freshman notorious for being a bit of a troublemaker, but they would trust a pro.