It was a monotonous day. I was in a humorous mood and clumsy. I'd been playing a lot with my sister and a friend of ours that day. It was dark when my father decided to take out the trash. We lived in a place with a lot of stairs, but those stairs had a space between them. We, my sister, our friend and I, were looking at what my father was doing, and we hadn't realized how close we were to that space between the stairs, especially my sister.

Suddenly, I felt someone pushing me. I was between my sister and our friend, and it was our friend who had fallen against me. I, in turn, knocked into my sister. I panicked when I saw my sister fall; it felt unreal. My father dashed down the stairs to her. He called for my mom, who came out of her room, and grabbed me when she figured out what had happened. She began to yell at me, "You killed your sister!".

I was punished harshly. I was left alone in my room, crying because I knew who was really guilty. I stayed there for a long time, watching TV while crying and thinking about my sister. My grandma came for me and took me to her home afterwards.

That's all I remember. I know it was a tough recovery for my sister, who came pretty close to dying, but she's alive and now has two wonderful sons. She doesn't remember what happened though.

"You killed your sister." That's the most hurtful thing I've ever heard. I was seven and my sister was five at the time. It was quite a traumatic experience, as well as difficult to overcome. But both of us are fine now, and that's what really matters.