I looked at my young face in the mirror, the face of a murderer. How could I go to jail for this?

Then it hits me; I didn’t make her drive. She wanted to. I didn’t help her crash. She was going too fast. I didn’t kill her. I wouldn’t go to jail.

But my parents would be so angry with me for crashing the car, even though I wasn’t in it. They would call me irresponsible and a million other names. Would they even know who the girl was? They never told me I was adopted; that I had another family out there. How could I go home? There was too much to explain and no way I could explain it.

The mirror had no answers. My life was a huge mess. A tear rolled down my cheek and I watched its reflected trek.

I didn’t say I was sorry.

I was disappointed in myself, not only for being unwise about the car, but for not apologizing to the family, my family, for the loss of a sister I had just met.

They were right to adopt me out! I am a horrible son. My reflection blurred through my tears, which I let out in huge sobs.