My name is Jack. I'm 18 years old, and I'm unemployed. Nothing important, nothing special. Always plain old Jack.
"Jack! Get up! It's time for school!"
I dragged myself out of bed, and threw on some jeans and a grubby white t-shirt. Opening the door, I walked straight into my dad.
"Jack, don't forget, pick up some microwave food, yeah?"
My mum died whilst giving birth to me. My dad has always seemed to blame me for it. I guess it's not surprising, considering it's my fault.
"Alright dad, I'm off!"
As I meandered back from school, and towards my house, I noticed that my front door was open. Dad was usually so careful. I pushed it open the whole way, and saw him sat in the middle of the couch.
"....did you get the food?"
His jaw clenched.
"You can never do anything can you? You messed up your GCSEs, and you're retaking them for the fourth bloody time. You're doing nothing with your life, and you killed my bloody wife!"
I took a step back, amazed. Sure, my dad has flipped out before, but nothing like this.
"Dad, take it easy okay? You're just... You're just..."
"Just what Jack? Being unreasonable!? For fucks sake Jack, because of you, she's dead! All because of you!!"
I clenched my fists.
"Dad, stop it. That wasn't my fault. Stop it."
He jumped up and looked me in the eye for the first time. He began shouting. "WHY! WHY DID SHE DIE SO YOU COULD JUST SCREW YOUR LIFE UP!"
"DAD, JUST... JUST SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" I screamed.
Then I felt something. Something erupted from me, an unseen force. My dad took a step forward, and then keeled over. I ran towards him.
I looked into his eyes, which were glazed over. I checked his pulse, I felt for his breath, I even shook his lifeless body.
He was dead.
Did I do this?