He threw his arms around me, and it was dark and heavy, and I was scared by it, it wasn’t the sort of hug I was used to getting from him. And then he let go, and it was far worse. The nothingness began. The worse than nothingness, the emptiness full of things, the bits and pieces without a whole, the nothing but indecipherable, meaningless things.

That was the last real memory I have of the brother that once loved me so well.

After that, a stranger would sometimes appear with his face and name, but I was no longer his little sister, I was a blob of nothing, a sacrifice to trauma and death.