Mark's P.O.V.
My swollen, bloodshot eyes drooped slowly as thunder rumbled outside, rattling the windows. Lightning struck, illuminating my surroundings for a few seconds, staring down into the cup of coffee I held between my hands. I slowly lifted my head to glance at the clock. 4:05 AM. I swallowed the hard lump in my throat, tears filling up my eyes, the coffee mug trembling in my hands, the warm liquid distorting my reflection. I then threw the cup across the room, the cup shattering against the wall. I put my face in my hands, tears streaming down my face, sobbing. I covered my mouth with my hands to silence my sorrows, my heart feeling like it was split in two. I tried to stop the continuous waterworks that were expressing my grief but found it to be useless. I lifted my head, my face wet, tears dripping down my chin. I looked up at the picture frame that sat on the table and felt my bottom lip quiver as my hands grasped my chest in a vice grip, my head lifting back, staring at the ceiling.
"Oh, God, little brother, please forgive me!"