My parents arrived at the hospital about ten minutes after I called them. We lived at least fifteen minutes away from the hospital, so I knew right away that must have broken the speed limit.

"Gigi!" My mother exclaimed. "Gigi, are you hurt? What happened?"

"I'm fine, Maman. It's Violetta," I said, my voice breaking as tears welled in my eyes.

"Darling, I need you to explain what happened," Papa said as calmly as he could, but I knew that inside, he was terrified.

I took a deep breath. "Violetta, Jane, Davy, and I were inside Notre Dame when it started burning. We-"

"But it was after closing hours," Maman interjected. "And I thought that you and your sister were spending the night at Jane's."

"Marie, don't interrupt her. Let the girl explain," Papa sighed.

"It's alright...the four of us were planning to spend the night in the cathedral. We wanted to do something...adventurous," I stammered. "But we had nothing to do with the fire. I swear."

"We believe you," my father nodded.

Suddenly, Davy and Jane rushed through the double doors. The former exclaimed, "Gigi, Mr. and Mrs. Bernard, come quickly! The doctor has news on Violetta!"

My two friends, my parents, and I rushed into Violetta's room. She was hooked up to an IV and about six other things. Maybe it was more. I can't exactly remember now.

"Oh mon dieu! What happened to her?!" Maman asked frantically.

"She fell through the floorboards," I explained, "and into fire. She managed to crawl away before she passed out, but...well, she's been burned."

"My baby!" Maman cried, grasping my sister's hand.

The doctor came in at that moment. "Are you Violetta's parents?"

"Yes," Maman and Papa said in unison.

"I'm very sorry," the doctor said gravely, "but your daughter isn't going to make it. There's nothing we can do."

We all started crying. Violetta was dying and there was nothing that could be done.

It wasn't very long after that the machine monitoring her heart rate -I forget what it's called now- stopped beeping steadily and gave off one long, loud sound.

A team of nurses rushed in, but by then, it was too late. My twin sister was dead.

Jane, Davy, and I clung to each other for dear life, each of us sobbing hysterically.

That was all about a week and a half ago. Getting used to being woken up by my alarm on my phone hasn't been easy. I'm used to being shaken awake by Violetta. Now I often am late for school.

Needless to say, I miss Violetta dearly. She was my twin sister, my best friend, and now that she's gone, I have no idea what I'll do.

I start crying sometimes. Just randomly, out of the blue. I want it to stop, the pain that I'm feeling. I hear that it never will, though. After all, I lost my twin. How does one get over that?

I blame myself for Violetta's death. I should have stopped her. I should have put my foot down, saying that it was a bad idea.

"She wouldn't have listened," Jane insisted, trying to comfort me. "She wanted to do it and nothing was going to get in her way."

"It hurts," I cried, clinging to my friend and sobbing into her shoulder. "I miss her."

April 15, 2019 was the worst day of my life and one that will haunt me until I die.