I Adopted My 7 Siblings When I Was 18 So They Wouldn’t Be Separated – Three Years Later, My Youngest Brother Handed Me a Photo Revealing What Really Happened to Our Parents
I was eighteen when I fought to keep my seven siblings together after our parents died. For three years, I thought I was barely holding us above water. Then my youngest brother found an old photo, and the truth on the back changed everything I believed about my family.
I was eighteen when I opened the door and found two police officers on our porch.
Behind me, Lila was laughing in the kitchen because Tommy had poured cereal into a saucepan and called it « breakfast soup. »s » Phoebe was yelling and calling him gross. Sybil was looking for her left shoe.
Ethan and Adam were arguing over a hoodie neither of them owned, and Benji was dragging his blanket across the floor like a tiny, tired ghost.
For ten seconds, life was normal.
I was eighteen.
Then one officer said, « Are you Rowan? »
I knew before he finished. The look on his face said it all.
My hand stayed on the doorknob. « Yes. »
His partner looked past me at my siblings like he already knew where all seven of them would fall.
« There’s been an accident, » he said. « And your parents didn’t survive it. »
I heard Lila stop laughing.
« Are you Rowan? »
« What? » I asked, because my brain decided to become useless.
« I’m sorry, son. I suggest you call some family over to help. »
Tommy wandered into the hall with milk on his shirt. « Rowan? »
I turned around. Seven faces waited for me to tell them what to do.
I shut the door halfway so they couldn’t see the officers’ faces, and I said, « Everybody sit down. »
Phoebe whispered, « Where are Mom and Dad? »
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