Maybe the memories plaguing me would finally cease rattling around in the back of my mind where I can never escape. The look of surprise on my father’s face, frozen there in death. My sister’s blood soaking the stones as her breath rattles to a stop. The twins, their bodies so badly damaged that I’m not even certain what killed them. Only who. The knowledge that I ran when I should have fought, that I hid when I should have helped. I should have died that day with the rest of my family. Every moment I’ve lived since then feels stolen. That’s the true curse I live under. The claustrophobic
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I feel like Grace's mom killed them or at least a familt member
