Pout or Suicide? My Brother’s Mad Regret

Summary

Two days after I ran away from home, my brother, Jake, found me at the entrance of a hospital.

He grabbed the front of my shirt, his eyes bloodshot with fury.

“You run away just because I slapped you? Are you trying to kill me with worry? Is that it?!”

“When are you going to stop this? I’m begging you, Nina. Can’t you just be sensible, like Sophie?”

This time, I didn’t try to explain. I didn’t argue.

I just followed him home in silence, ready to play the part of the perfect, sensible sister.

He hated it when I cried, so I never shed another tear.