Ever since I was 9 years old, I've always wanted to be a mother. Mine always told me that I would be a great mother. For the longest time, I believed I would be a good mother. I researched proper parenting skills and raising a child with disabilities and understanding a child's mental and emotional health. Little did I know that the skills I had researched would be put to the test when my mother was murdered by my father. The man had begun acting weird over the past year and my mother started to distance herself from him. He managed to convince himself that she was cheating and he eventually lost his marbles, shooting my mother in cold blood on her way home from work. I witnessed it because I was at the convenience store that was across from her work. Afraid for my life I ran home as fast as I could and snagged my little brother and salvaged as much money as I could find and stole my father's car along with the keys and left our home. My little brother being scared, confused, tired, didn't know what was happening and he asked me the question that broke me. The question that made me slam the breaks on the car. The question that made me drop my head on the steering wheel and burst out into tears. "Where's Mummy?" I didn't know how to answer the question. The best form of response I could give was hugging him closely into my bosom. I didn't know what to say. I thought about if it would be better that he knows the truth, or I lie to him. "Mummy will be back soon, ok?" I choked between the tears. I hated lying. I never lied once during my childhood, but I didn't know what else to say to the 5-year-old. I sat for a moment, trying to forget about what I had witnessed, releasing the car from park, and driving off into the horizon.

I never gave much mind to my little brother. I don't think we had the same interests. I was always focused on studying school, parenting skills, just general life skills. I didn't ignore him completely and I still played my role as "The Big Sister". I was there for him if he had a bad day at school, I was there for him whenever he needed help with homework, I was there for him whenever our mother wasn't there and in our current predicament, it looks like she won't be there for a very long time. My brother is one of the few people in this world diagnosed with the disease "Infimium". It's a rare disease that prevents a child from growing properly in the womb, causing them to be proportionately smaller than an average human. In other words, my brother is a tiny human sitting in my lap, and even with my research on parenting skills, I still have no idea how to raise a kid like him. Infimium is a lesser-known disease because scientists haven't had many study opportunities. With the internet being a thing and a fetish about the use of tiny humans being a thing, a lot of "tinies" get put to use for people's dark and twisted fetishes. Since I know a fetish like this exists, I think it's safe to say that I have a few desires of my own and that's a part of the reason I never paid much attention to my brother as I wasn't able to control those urges when I was younger. Now, with my mother dead and my father probably kneeling beside her question every decision he's ever made, I have a responsibility to my brother. Instead of fulfilling "The Big Sister" role like I was supposed to, I have to take my mother's place. I know that this is a test, and she will be judging every turn I take.

The school bus was one stop away from mine and I watch the enormous girl get off at hers. She was one of the girls that tormented me for my size. With my height, I already felt weak, lesser of a person. Her daily comments and attacks only made me feel worse. She gave me an evil smirk as she left, but my guardian shielded me from it. My guardian was a kind and gentle girl named Annalise. She was in grade 10. Mummy co-ordinated with the school to assign me someone to ensure my safety and she volunteered. Her house is near mine so she is able to get off with me and give me to mummy. As the bus pulled up to our house, I noticed that mummy wasn't there for me. Annalise got off the bus, went up to the door, knocked loudly, waited. "Josh, are you sure she's home?" I looked up at Annalise and nodded. She let me down at the tiny entrance attached to the door. I gazed up and down her titanic body. She was a lot taller than most in her grade, very pretty too. "Well, I'll be getting home now. See you tomorrow!" With that, she began to walk home. I walked inside our house and up to the kitchen counter, setting my stuff down and snuck into the cookie jar. Mummy wouldn't mind! I thought to myself. I took a small cookie, sat down on the counter, and took a big bite out of it.

An hour or two went by, and there was still no sign of Mummy or Ashley. A bunch of my art supplies were sprawled out on the counter and I was drawing pictures to keep myself entertained. I drew a picture of Ashley, one of Annalise, and one of Mummy and I. I quickly looked up at the door, as it burst open and Ashley walked in. She seemed to be in a panicked state and was running around the house, gathering a bunch of supplies, as if we were going on a road trip. She came up to the counter, held out her hand, whispering "Come on Josh, we need to leave now." I grabbed my bag and the pictures I drew, sitting myself down in her hand. She went out to Daddy's car, got in and drove off. I looked up at her and asked: "Where's Mummy?" She stopped the car and put her head down, crying her eyes out. She picked me up and hugged me against her chest, saying "Mummy will be back soon, ok?" She set me back down in her lap and continued to drive, for a long time.

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