Josiah’s P.O.V

When I was little, I believed my lies had killed my mother. Being twenty-two now, I knew she died of her illness and nothing of what I said; however, as a six-year-old, I didn’t know any better. What exactly I had lied about, I couldn’t remember now. All I could remember was that after I had said it, my mother was gone, and my little six-year-old brain believed that it was my words that had killed her.

Since that day, I swore to myself that I ...