I am going to die.

I am going to die and before dying, I am going to be beaten.

My nose will be broken.

Because 'what goes around, comes around, right Gabrielle?'

How I wish he were wrong.

I slammed his head to the ground; I broke his nose, all to protect a small child, you.

Hurting brother is easier than hurting you, sister.

Sister, you have failed me.

I protected you, and yet you simply tell it what I've done?

You realize, of course, you have just signed my death papers?

After this night, big sister will not be able to be the one standing in front of you anymore.

She will be the one who was put into the ground, traces of blood still surrounding my crooked nose.

They will be careful, oh so careful.

When they hit me they will hold back.

When they yell, it will be in whispers.

When they take from me, it will be invisible to the eyes.

But you, dear sister.

What has anyone taken from you?

Have I not helped you?

Have I not crossed over from hurting you to helping you feel better?

I thought we were able to stand each other.

So, I thank you.

I should have known that faith in you is like faith in our father.