**Diary Entry 12th October**
Mums constant nagging about not helping enough with my ill brother pushed me to run away after school. She always accused me of abandoning them, but that afternoon, I grabbed my things and left without a word.
I sat on a bench in Hyde Park, watching the autumn leaves swirl in the crisp wind. My phone buzzed againanother message from Mum, Margaret: Youve left us, Emily! Williams getting worse, and youre just carrying on like nothings wrong! Every word cut deep, but I couldnt reply. Guilt, anger, and grief twisted inside me, pulling me back to the home Id walked away from five years ago. At eighteen, Id made a choice that split my life into before and after. Now, at twenty-three, I still wonder if it was the right one.
I grew up in the shadow of my little brother, William. He was three when doctors diagnosed him with severe epilepsy. From then on, our house became a hospital ward. Mum, Margaret, devoted herself entirely to himmedications, doctors, endless tests. Dad couldnt handle it; he packed his bags and left, leaving her alone with two kids. At seven, I became invisible. My childhood vanished into the constant care for William. Emily, help with William. Emily, keep quietdont upset him. Emily, not now. I waited, year after year, feeling my own dreams slip further away.
As a teen, I learned to be practical. I cooked, cleaned, looked after William while Mum rushed to hospitals. Friends invited me out, but I always refusedI was needed at home. Mum would say, Youre my rock, Emily, but the words felt hollow. I saw how she looked at Williamlove mixed with desperationand knew Id never get that same look. I wasnt a daughter; I was a caretaker, meant to ease the familys burden. Deep down, I loved my brother, but that love was tangled with exhaustion and resentment.
By sixth form, I felt like a ghost. My classmates talked about uni, parties, their futures, while I could only think of medical bills and Mums tears. One evening, coming home from school, I found her in tears: William needs a new treatment, and we cant afford it! You have to help, Emilyget a job after A-levels! In that moment, something inside me shattered. I looked at Mum, at William, at the walls that had suffocated me for years, and realised: if I stayed, Id disappear forever. It hurt, but I couldnt be who they needed anymore.
After my exams, I packed my rucksack. I left a note: Mum, I love you, but I have to go. Forgive me. With £400 saved from odd jobs, I bought a ticket to London. On the train that night, I cried, feeling like a traitor. But in my chest was something newhope. I wanted to live, study, breathe without hospital corridors haunting me. In London, I rented a bed in student halls, worked as a waitress, enrolled in night classes. For the first time, I felt like a person, not just a cog in a machine.
Mum never forgave me. The first few months, she called, screamed, begged: Youre selfish! Williams suffering without you! Her voice lashed like a whip. I sent money when I could, but I wouldnt go back. Over time, the calls grew fewer, but every message dripped with blame. I knew William was worse, that Mum was exhausted, but I couldnt carry that weight anymore. I wanted to love my brother as a sister, not a nurse. Yet, every time I read Mums words, I wondered: If Id stayed, who would I have become?
Now, I have my own lifea job, friends, plans for a masters. But the past clings to me. I think of William, his smile on good days. I love Mum, but I cant forget the childhood I lost. She still writes, and every message echoes the home I fled. I dont know if Ill ever go back, explain myself, make peace. But one things certain: that day on the train, leaving London behind, I saved myself. And that truth, bitter as it is, keeps me moving forward.
**Lesson learned:** Sometimes walking away isnt selfishits survival. You can love people and still choose yourself.
