As I slowly walk through the automatic doors encasing the large room, it's like it suddenly hits me.

What am I doing here? I owe him nothing.

He lied to me for years and just when I was happy he had to go and ruin it.

All these thoughts float around my mind and yet, I sit.

I sit and wait. Wait for him.

My darling brother.

I can't bare this. How could he? How could he think it's okay. He did it for me. I didn't ask him. But he did it.

I feel my heart beat growing quicker and my chest start to rapidly rise and fall as I stand up, walking towards the wooden door that encases my apartment.

But, he stops me.

"Where are you going?"

It's all a blur. I barely remember. It's like I wiped it from my memory. Just like that. Erased. Deleted. Never to be replayed.

Because then, maybe, just maybe. He wouldn't be "Robert Donovan sentenced to 25 years in jail for the murder of Tina McIntyre". He wouldn't be the cruel evil killer who caved in a twenty three year old girl's head with a metal pole.

Maybe he would just be my baby brother again.

"Happy Birthday to you," I wake up to what seems to be the sound of someone murdering a birthday classic. This really is not helping my headache.

We don't even celebrate birthdays in this house. Mum's normally passed out drunk somewhere, forgetting she even has children and as for George, well, he's god knows where doing god knows what. All I do know is he's likely to have a drink in his hand and a frown on his face.

That only leaves one person. Of course.

"Come on Carla, get up, don't you want to open your present?" I roll over to try and drown out the noise invading my ear drums.

I didn't need a reminder.

What was today?

My 12th birthday. To any other kid, the family gathered round, a birthday cake, balloons, streamers, celebrations, presents.

I'm just reminded it's another year I've spent living here on this estate. But, I guess it's year closer to when I can finally escape this place. Well, if I can escape this place.

I can't handle it any more. I love him but Rob sure isn't going to be the next Elton John. Looks like I'm getting up. I don't think my ears can take much more.

I've barely sat up by the time he thrusts a small package onto my lap, roughly wrapped in newspaper. Where he found the newspaper, I dread to think, probably stolen.

I look up and my eyes meet his deep blue eyes. His signature cheeky grin plastered across his face.

I know this won't be much. I know it won't have cost much and it wouldn't mean anything to any other twelve year old girl but to me, it meant the world.

I don't know where or how he got the money.

I don't know what it will be.

But the only thing I do know is it will mean the world to me. Because that even though no one else remembered and no one else thought, he did.

Because he is Rob Donovan, my baby brother, and he always will be.

Suddenly, I'm snapped back to reality.

A reality where I can't just live in my dream world where Rob Donovan is just the name of my innocent baby brother who thought to buy me a birthday present on my twelfth birthday. A reality that is so much harsher.

"Alright sis? You're looking well"