I keep thinking about it. It’s hard not to now. So many people asking if I’m okay. Still asking what exactly happened. If I need someone to talk to...

I can’t sleep any more. Its hard to, I mean think about it. Would you be able to? After seeing it happen with your own two eyes. But of course, no one blames me. No, no one blames Taylor.

Nope, not one single person blames me... except for...well... me.

“Tay?” Mrs. Hanson called from the hallway.

Mumbling unintelligently, Taylor attempted to open his eyes. He gave up after a few seconds and turned his head to face the wall, going back to sleep.

“Taylor?” She asked again. This time knocking on his bedroom door.

Zac’s hand flew up and hit him in the back of his head. “Get out of bed so that I can sleep, you doof.” He said as he rolled over and covered his head with his blankets.

Grumbling now, Taylor blindly stumbled out of his bed, in his boxers and tee shirt and opened the door to his brothers and his room. “Yeah?” He asked sleepily. Squinting his eyes, trying to focus on the figure in front of him. Half guessing it was his mom.

“Honey, I need you to baby-sit for the Wilson’s this evening.” Mrs. Hanson said as she coddled the little baby in her arms.

Taylor smiled down at his baby sister. He ran his hand gently over her cheek and then looked back up at his mother. “Okay.. can I go back to sleep now?” He asked with pleading eyes.

Mrs. Hanson laughed lightly. “No, that’s why I woke you up. You have to be there in half an hour, and I’m driving you. So you better hurry up.” She ordered him gently.

Nodding reluctantly and tiredly Taylor stepped back into his room to change quickly and quietly, and try not to disturb his sleeping brothers.

Fifteen minutes later Taylor was standing outside Wilson’s front door and was waiting for someone to answer to his knock.

Glancing at his watch he grimaced slightly. It was near three o'clock in the afternoon, and him and his brothers were on break. This was supposed to be his sleeping time. Not babysitting time.

A few seconds passed before a young woman opened the door. She smiled brightly and gratefully at him. “Thank you for doing this on short notice, Taylor.” She said as she stepped aside and gestured for him to come inside the house.

Nodding his head politely Taylor answered, “It’s no problem, Mrs. Wilson. The boys and I had a great time last time...” He said trailing off.

Him and the boys, Jesse and Jaime, eight and twelve, always ended up playing war with squirt guns, dart guns, or Nerf guns. Or some sort of toy gun. It was actually quite fun sometimes.

Mr. Wilson came down the hallway and nodded towards Taylor. “You ready, Vickie?” He asked glancing at his watch.

Mrs. Wilson nodded and grabbed her purse and jacket. “We’ll be home in less than two hours, okay?” She asked.

Taylor nodded his head again. “Sure, no problem.” He stated shrugging.

“Okay, now they’re in their room napping, but they should be waking up in the next half hour or so, so we’ll be seeing you.” She said giving him a kiss on the cheek before she walked out the door her was holding open for her.

Mr. Wilson simply rolled his eyes and followed her out there.

Laughing, Taylor shut the door behind them and locked it, as he was supposed to.

He grinned when he heard the boys upstairs screaming and shouting, “bang, bang, I shot you.”

But what came next was a sound he didn’t expect. It was a loud “bang.” A real one. From a real gun.

Scared, he ran down the hallway as fast as his legs could take him, and opened the door to the den. He didn’t know they would be in there. It was just a feeling that he had.

The scene took him by surprise.

Jesse was holding an actual gun in his hand. A hole in the wall, as proof he already took the safety catch off.

“Jesse, give me the gun.” Taylor squeaked nervously. Something about a eight year old holding a gun as if it were a play toy set his nerves on edge.

Shrugging, Jesse was about to hand it to him when Jaime grabbed for it. “I wanna play with it too!” He shouted.

His hand grasped at the handle, his fingers and Jesse’s going over the trigger.

In slow motion the gun went off. This next bullet hitting a different mark than the wall, this time it hit Jesse in the chest.

Knocking him down.

Taylor screamed, and Jaime dropped the gun instantly. His eyes widened in fright and fear. Knowing he did something wrong, but not sure as to exactly what it was yet.

Crouching next to the small body reflexively, Taylor checked for a pulse, finding none he turned to Jaime. “Jaime!” He shouted, getting the boys attention.

Jaime tried to focus on Taylor, but his eyes kept straying back to his brother. There was a lot of blood staining his white Power Ranger’s shirt, and he wasn’t moving.

“Jaime!” Taylor shouted again. “Jaime, I need you to go dial nine-one-one.” After a second he shouted. “Jaime, this is very important, okay?” He asked.

After Jaime had nodded, he continued. “Dial nine-one-one, tell them that your little brother has been shot, and has no pulse okay?”

He nodded again, and then ran into the kitchen for the telephone. Doing exactly as he was told, while Taylor tried to do mouth-to-mouth-resuscitation to bring back Jesse’s pulse.

The time passed by so unbelievably slow that you could’ve sworn you had already lived a lifetime by the time the doctor came out with the news.

Mrs. Wilson fell to the ground crying. Her husband was trying to hold her. After her first feeble attempts to push him away, she gradually accepted the embrace and comfort he was offering her.

Jaime was there, but soon was going to be lead away. Juvenile authorities had already gotten wind of the story, and demanded that the kid be taken into custody.

“You okay?” Isaac asked gently. “Anything I can do?” He asked as he placed his hand comfortingly on his shoulder.

Taylor shrugged and squeezed his eyes shut. The scene playing for the millionth time. “Make me forget?”