Of humans blame

I stand in front of her coffin, tears streaming down my face, the world blurred. She was once a happy smiling person. But I hadn't noticed. After she allowed others to find her love of writing she started to share her stories. Coupled with her beauty she attracted more fans, unfortunately, some were bad fans.

I should have noticed we decided to live away from our parents to go to a better high school. We lived together so I should have noticed. After she shared her hobby of writing my younger twin sister started getting letters, but she refused to show them to me. Slowly, she became more withdrawn. She still seemed cheerful, her smile bright as ever. At one point she just stopped talking to people. That should have been it. Soon she smiled less. But the letters never stopped. In fact they got more and more frequent. Until that day when I saw her. Truly I was stupid.

'I! Should! Have! Known!'

She had gone home earlier saying she felt sick. Earlier in the morning however there didn't appear to be anything wrong not all afternoon. It was the same as any other day. At least that's what I thought. I walked into the house yet it was utterly silent. As though there was no living being there.

" ̵̡̒̋ ̸͎̿͠ ̴̧̜̟̈́ ̶̟͉̒̋̈ ̶͖̱̥̏̚͝ ̵̯̄̈́̎ ̴̞̈́̽͆ ̷̣̝̎ ̸̙̈́ ̸̜̍̒ ̶̙͛͝ ̵̝̉̑! Where are you?" I called out. already a sense of dread welled up in the pit of my stomach. One of the dinning room chairs is missing. The curtain was torn down.

Walking into her room I see her hanging from the ceiling fan. Body dangling lifelessly. And I scream I don't know how long but I just scream and cry until neighbors walk in. They probably were the ones to call the ambulance.

"Wait!" I call out. "Help my sister she... she..." they didn't stop they just pulled me away.

"What are you doing!" I start to lose it. They should be helping my sister.

"Help my sister!" I scream at them.

Then a man comes up and says " look your sisters long gone." I look up in shock ready to scream at them.

"Come on I don't know what you did but if you don't get yourself fixed you'll bleed out and follow her" The man continues. It turns out I was bleeding. The ambulance was for me. For me not to help her.

After the funeral class goes back to its regular schedule. Except it was missing her. My younger twin sister. And everyone knew that without her it would take a while for the class to hold a proper smile. I go to the roof no longer willing to stay in the classroom she loved so much. Ten minutes later half the class is also up here. Probably to eat is what I thought. Until they surrounded me.

"It was your fault!" One person says.

Then others go

"She'd still be here were it not for you!"

"You killed her you forced her to do this!"

"You probably don't even care that she died!"

"He probably planed it!"

"Yeah, his sister was so beautiful he was jealous!"

"We came here to avenge her you monster!"

They continue to gather until they push me off.

There's a sharp swift pain.

Then there's nothing.

(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

A̵̢̭̪͇̮̰̤͌͂̒̇̒̌̚̚̚h̸͎̹͛́̌̄ ̶̡̛̜͈͕̦̳̼̩̙̓̓̓̄̈͛̌͒͑̑̋̉͘͝t̵̢̼͉̀̀̌̀͌̃͜h̸̨̨̡̛͈͕̲͈͇͚̹͊̀̆̽́͗̈́͋͜͜͜͝͠͝e̸̛͍̣͈͛̌̔̔̈́́̐̈́̇̕̕͠͝r̶̛̮̣͕̻̬̣̟̲̤̅̑̀͂͗̏͂̓͑̽́̒̏͝e̴̛͙̩̙͐̎̏̈́̽̊̎͘ ̴̧̲̙͕͖̙̩͔̗̻̾̔̾̉́̆̆͛̎̆͐̽y̸̢͎̙̬̤͕͉̝͊̉͗́̅̂̐̚̕͜͝ǫ̶̬̥͓̠̪̬̹̮̞̗͊̿͛̇̈́̄̒͛̕u̴̝̯͙͖̙̺̼͕̩̩̔́̀̐̆̏͐̈̌̍̕͝ ̵͖͉̻̘͔̜̹͎̹̓̏̔͂́̈́̅͆͂̂̂̏̓͆͘͜à̸̩͙͇̯̩̻̯̅̈̊̚r̴̩̭͉̹̮̗̀͂̈̋̐͆͆͒̀́̽̌͠e̸̙̬͉͓̗͐̾̍́̃̊̐͗͗̏̍́̚͝ ̶͔̘͈͇̰͈̙̪̻̭̯̭̰̘́͛̊͋̂͜İ̷̡̝̺̫̯̥̗͚̗͙͍̀̈́̔̚͜͝'̴̯̍̒̀̿͂͗͐̀͌̿̕͝m̶̧̡̤̩̫̭͕̲̲̠̣͕̪̻̅̔́̽̓͆̇̾ ̴̖͆̅̒s̴͇̦͍͆͛̌͑ẏ̶̛̻̇̈́̑͂̿͐̆̎͗ș̶̛͈͎͚̓͛̏t̷͚̗̪̮̤̫͓͂̏͜ē̶̢̧̨̢͍̰̝̩̲̼͗͛̊̂̅ḿ̵̦̺̣̞̜̟͉̦̭͇̣̾̀́̃̎̔̔̽̾͝ͅ ̶̠̱̤̯̭̠̩̀̇̑̀͐͛̇ͅ2̴̦̮̜̋͊̽́̋͊̒̀̓̑̾̏̾͘̕0̸̢̦͓͎̮̟̔̍͛4̴̢̛̲̂̈́̒̾̾̈̌̀͂6̴̧̰̀̓̐͐̿̒̎̎̇̈̓͛1̸̡̡̧͚̺̖̠̟̩͍̮͓̥̀́̆͗̽̾͊̊͌́͗̎͜͠3̸̡̨̜̞̞̰͓̳͙̋̽̆͐͐͛̊̎͊̀͠7̷̢̞͔̗̝̟͎̪͙̺̩͚͖̇̀̊͋̑͒̓͒̑̄̐̎ͅ(̴̹͌̽̉̌͜S̸̱̯͆͒͆̓̔̈́̉̌̑̄̆͘͠ͅc̵̛͓̣̯̗͊͑̋͜ͅä̵̡̢̮͕̻̪̙̬̣̮̳̭͇́̀̂́͑́͌̕̕̕r̸̡̜͇̻̯̒̒̌́̓͋̋̋͗̒l̴̹̰̭̪͇̮̪̬̞̳̓͐̑̒͛̿͊͝e̵̢̱̥̳̖̪̖͎̤͂̇̎̄͊̋t̶͉̪̮̳͇̖̤̰̣̎͌̇́̓͂̈́̌͘̚͘͠͝͝)̴̨͈̬̥̖̮̘͇̦̰̆̔̒̄̐̍ͅ.̵͈͔̯͙̤͙̉͆͊̇̅̓̐̉̈̐̿͘̚ ̷̨̛̞̜̲̭͎͖̝̋͐̔̒̏̐̐̈́̕̕͠W̶̨̖̭̮̙̹̰̰̺̖̦̣͔͐͋͌̐́͋͛̿͘ȇ̵̢̳͕̯̹̗̝̪͉̻̼̪̀̒̐̒͑̈́̍̂̈́͐̈̐̏͠l̸̡̗̙͍̼͕̬͚̳̳̞̱̞̒̏̈͂c̴̨̨͚̤̜̱͎̈̔̋̓̏͘͜ͅơ̴̢̖͍̦̫͈̰̲̞͓̖̤̥̍̉͝m̵̰̦̙̹̞̋̈́̚ḛ̵̥͕̤͍͎͈̻̓̃̑̚͝͠͝ ̵̧̖̪̱̱͛͐͆̇̓̌̏̉͌͗̄̿͠͝͝ḩ̶̻̻̼̻͕̻̺̼͇͈̪̝̹͔̄̄̋̒̐̃̈́̈́́̀́͝͝ǫ̴̛̥͙̭͇̬͇̬͇̩͕̥̏̍͌͑̌̈̋̅̒͜ͅs̶̝̥͖̹̪̄͋̏̆͋̇̽t̷͖͇̯͕̤̤͔͑̈͘͜ ̵͉͈̙̩̠̪̣̣͖̠̙̜̒͗͊͆̌̉̈́͝t̵̲͉̲͗̓ǫ̴̦̖̱̤͔͇̰̠̞̏̀̔ ̶͎͈̪̣̜̌̒̑̑̐̆̍̕t̷̢̪̻̫̠̝̘̱̭̫̥̞͓̳̺̉͋h̵̢̨̭̭̟̗͓͕͕͎́̈́ͅe̶̡̩̻͖̥̘͇̙̲̼̫̳̦̔̌̆͠ ̶̧̹͇͕̟͔͓̜̭̀͒̂̾̈̿̍f̸̧͈̫͕͉̺̭̲̬̥̑̏͂̋͛̾̀ͅͅi̵̡͎̯͑̓̌͂̈͛͗͆̄n̶̢̛̈́̒̇̽̉͒̇d̴̨̡̛̘̠̲̯͇̭͎̤̠͖̙̄̒͆̾̒̓̎̉̈́̀͒̀̌i̴̛̺̫̗̩̝̣̦̤̗͈͍͖̜̫̦̐̉͌̐̌̈́͌͌̅̀̚͝n̷͙̜̣̫͚̼̯̦̖͕̘̬͎̳̩͒̑g̶̃͗̑̍͐̈́̓̕͜ ̶̧̢̘͔̙͖̻̟̱̤̝̿͊̉ͅỷ̷̩̩͚̉̌̈́̈̓́̇͆̓͐͒ǫ̴̛̬͉̫̰̣̳̎̾̓͒͜u̴̢͚̩̻̪͍̞̫̺͙̿̊͗̓̈́̈͒̄͊͝ͅr̴̘͔̾͂̊͐̓͛̊̊ ̶̢̛̟͇̗̗̭͔͍͔̩̏̈̑̑̓̉̏̈́͒̈́̆̕͘͠ͅw̸͍͉͇̞͉͗͗̃͐̃̉̄͝ȯ̸̯̳́̉r̴̨̧̧͍̳͈̖̳̲̋̽̆̇͛͒̎͂̿̀̈́͘ͅl̶̨̧͕̯̞͔͓̞͓̞̤̩͔̐́̔̀̐͊̾͌̾͠d̸̩͇͎͍͇͙̜͖̪͓̲̖̠̻͝ ̵̢̝̲͖͍͔̲͉̪̗̆̉̒̋̐̚͜͝ş̸̧̨̖̰͓̭̭̲̠͇̼̪̖̮͝y̵̳̖͋̀̈̀́͛̄̎̈̚͝ş̴͙̗̪̳̱͒̽͐ṯ̷̢̞̯̫̬̝͖͂̅̄̈̌̊̈́̈é̵̢͈̮͎͚̭̺̗͓͇̤̌̽̈̀̈̅̑̄̊̄̏̓m̴̨̠̙̱̫̖̤͓̮̥̆͘͠ ̷̧̨̯̦̳͇̼͓͓̣̥̯͉̩͂̀͘͝͠ͅ