It's like a flicker of panoramic photographs that shows up with the blinking of my eyes. My memory replays the stories of my past through the filter I have chosen to use to express myself. I'm currently swimming through the images of one of those vivid memory from when I was younger.

I recall this moment like it was yesterday because it's not something you can easily forget. Since I want to get better I have to be prepared for the pain that's comes from recalling this moment of toxicity.

I remember that I used to live in a big red house behind a bank by Burlington Coat Factory. We were playing manhunt outside late that night because my parents let us.

I was chasing my brother across the grass of the large yard. I remember calling out his name as he jumped into the road to avoid being tagged. I watched the car hit my brother with horror. The driver of the car stopped for a mere second before driving off into the distance. When it was safe, I crossed the street to where my brother lay, crying loudly, with twisted bones and blood dripping from his head.

My elder brother was nowhere to be seen but he took my little sister with him. I started screaming out for someone to help us really loud then. A man in a Jeep who happened to be driving down the road stopped his car. He gave my little brother a blanket to keep warm and called the cops.

I remember my mom came running out of the house like a fire was lit under her ass. It was one of the only times I had seen utter fear on her face. I remember my dad crying loudly about his son. It probably looked bad that my parents were the last to come outside. A bunch of underage kids were outside playing manhunt alone in the middle of the night; who wouldn't question that? 

I was the only one who saw the driver, heard him as he rolled down the window saying "Oh shit", and drove away. An ambulance came which took my mom and brother away. The good Samaritan left after the police came to get me for questioning. I remember rattling off the details of everything to the officer who was very kind towards me. I dont know what his face looked like but I felt that i could trust him.

I dont remember much about that night but my family members didn't say much. It was the first time the house was quiet in a long time. In the morning they had not caught the man who hit my brother. However my brother had come out of several surgeries with a broken femur and a scar on his forehead with about 50 some odd stitches, and a concussion.

No one spoke to me about what had happened but they prodded me for details on the car. The man who did this to my brother never was caught but we had our own suspect. A man up the street, who owned a very similar car matching the description of the vehicle I had seen, had a broken headlight. However the lead went nowhere because the light was fixed by the time police came to check out his car.

It was unconfirmed who hit my brother but without anyone else to blame they turned to me. I was the one who had chased my brother into the street. It impacted my life strongly. For years I blamed myself for an accident that was not my fault.

Now I know that none of it was my fault. I know this because memories have a way of making us take a new look at the past. I could now see that my parents, who didn't want the responsibility, were trying to force the guilt they felt on someone else. I put the memory away and release a deep sigh; knowing that my soul has been healed.