I turn around to look at my brother's bedroom one more time: the single bed standing by the wall, opposite the desk and wardrobe. My parents have stripped it bare of all the posters and removed all his personal belongings, believing they have no use anymore. "He's gone, Robynn. Forever." I remind myself. There's nothing here to remember him by, and yet there's still way too much. I can't stay here; I just can't. It hurts too badly. I've applied to college in America, a good distance away from Central London. The cab is coming to get me in an hour. My parents don't know where I'm going, but I doubt they'd care.

Walking across the room to open the window proves more difficult than I expected, feeling my dead brother's presence more strongly on this side of the room. This is where we found his body, where my whole world ended. Turning the handle on the window, I wonder for the umpteenth time since it happened, why. Because the truth is, I don't understand anything. Sticking my head out of the window frame, a bittersweet memory makes its way to the surface – of Christmas Eves spent waiting up for Santa at just this window, him telling me stories on nights I couldn't sleep, always knowing something was wrong... and it kills me every day that I didn't know something was wrong with him. I couldn't save him.

I feel tears clouding my vision. I hold them back until I'm in the cab half an hour later; that's when I start to sob uncontrollably.