Even so, it took an hour because they both lived further away.

During that hour I got quite a few calls on my cell phone.

My twin had explained to her daughter why she hadn't come to school today. And she had told her mother. She was a key figure in the church and so my fate quickly found its way through the church members.

Those who knew me called me and offered their condolences. Asked how I was feeling. Encouraged me, said that God surely had something else in mind for me and that I therefore had to survive.

I lied to her. I said I was fine. That I understood that God had something in store for me and that I therefore had to endure. That I got through it because God was with me.But at that moment God died for me.

I did not feel the warm feeling that I always felt when I heard worship.

I felt like I was alone in the world. Without any hold.

When my second godmother finally arrived, the discussion began as to whom I would come to now.

They argued back and forth, throwing in that I was about to graduate from high school. That I had friends and that I was in the middle of a graduation thesis.

She didn't ask me at all.

I was just a silent observer of this discussion.

It was decided that I should come to my first godmother because firstly, she lived closer to my original place of residence and, secondly, had more space.

I should go with her right away. Since I had nothing more to pack anyway. The fire had destroyed everything. And what was not completely destroyed was retained as evidence.

So I had nothing left.

My godmother took me back to the waiting room where my twin was waiting with her mother. My brother's girlfriend had already left.

I explained the situation to her in brief words, whereupon her eyes also began to water.

I have to call her as soon as I get there. She would come to visit me soon.

I definitely have to come to Ticino anyway. With these words, she and her mother left the station.

My godmother also brought me to her car. We had a not exactly short journey ahead of us.

We drove in silence, but I saw on her face the pain of losing her best friend.

I loved my godmother, but I still wanted my family back.

When I got to her home, I first called my twin while my godmother set up a room.

As soon as it was done, I lay down on the bed and started crying.

I thought my tears were gone, but they weren't for a long time.

After a while, my godmother just sat down next to me and silently stroked my hair.

Somehow we would get through this, she assured me. It would only hurt so much in the beginning.

I didn't eat anything that day.

The next day I did nothing more than lie on the bed and feel sorry for myself.

I wished for that dull feeling back that numbed my pain, but it just wouldn't come.

My godmother arranged for my school change and registered me at the nearby high school. But I had no intention of ever leaving this room again.

When I couldn't get out of the room on the third day, my godmother brought the food into my room.

I should eat something, she said.

I followed her request.

She had cooked my favorite dish, but it didn't taste like anything to me.

I was still waiting for my mother to come in and scold me that I should finally go outside because the weather would be so nice.I didn't come out of the room until three days later.

I went to my godmother and asked her to drive me to church the next day.

It would be the first time I left the apartment since I entered it.

On the same day they brought with them what could be saved from our burned down apartment.

It wasn't much.

My external hard drive with all my data, which I had hidden in a plastic bag in the freezer compartment that morning out of spite of my father who wanted to format it, and my older brother's Macbook, which he had stowed in a probably fireproof laptop bag since he needed him for his computer science studies. In addition, a single family photo that hung on the wall above the door to the living room had survived. It was slightly charred, but mostly spared, since nothing really burned near it.

They had now completed the investigation.

The cause of the fire was really a toaster, but it wasn't a short circuit in the toaster, but that it had been in the alcohol and the neighbor below us wanted to smoke a cigarette with a fairly high blood alcohol level and it ended up in the alcohol and thus ignited the toaster.

It wasn't a consolation.

The culprit was dead too. I didn't know what to do with my grief and anger and locked myself in my new room in my desperation.

There I connected my hard drive to my brother's laptop and turned up the music to distract myself.

I stared at the old family photo. It was an old one. At least ten years old. It was taken from relatives in Canada and showed my mother, father, older brother and me on his shoulders. My little brother wasn't on it. He was too small at the time and slept in my relatives' house.

The tears wanted to come up again, but I held them back.

I sang loudly along with my music, my voice often breaking.

That was all I had left of my family.

The next morning my alarm clock rang mercilessly early. At some point during the last night I collapsed exhausted, so the music was still on. Not as loud as before, because I had unfortunately made it after a while, but it motivated me to get up and get ready.

My godmother was already awake when I came out of the room. I had turned off the music in the meantime.

We made our way to the church, where everyone received me with concern.

My godmother stayed next to me the whole time, completely out of place, but sure that she would have to stay near me so that I could have someone.

In view of the events of last Sunday, the service had been converted into a funeral service.

Very few of those present knew my parents because they did not belong to this community, but they knew me and saw how much it hurt me.Everyone now knew about my fate. At the latest when I was asked to go to the front to pray for me.

There was emptiness in me. I didn't feel anything anymore.

Nothing more but anger.

Anger at these hypocrites who prayed for me even though they knew it wouldn't bring my parents and brothers back either. Who told me they were in a better place even though they had never seen it before.

Anger at God for not preventing my family from being burned.

Anger at myself for not taking them or at least being with them.

When the service was over, I asked the others to go ahead. I wanted to talk to God a little longer, I said.

In the end I was alone in the hall.

I stared up at the stage.

I never really got my family to come here.

I only took my little brother with me to the Royal Rangers from time to time.

The rest never knew God the way I knew him.

Never really felt his love.

The love that I couldn't feel anymore

Again the tears made their way to the surface and rolled down my face.

Despair came back to me in the face of what else I had wanted to do with them.

I couldn't hold her inside anymore. I berated God for how he dared to take my family from me, what I would have done to deserve this, whether that would be the punishment for them not coming to church, why I had to survive.

Finally I had put all my thoughts into words and just cried.

Then I felt a hand on my shoulder.

It was the youth pastor.

At first he didn't say anything, but then he began to say that I certainly had another job to do, that my parents weren't punished, and that God didn't want to punish me because his son had died for our sins.

This is what today's Easter Sunday stands for.

I should look for my calling and stop mourning the past, otherwise I would never be happy.

Then he left the hall.

I wiped the tears from my eyes.

It was easy for him to talk. He hadn't lost his family. He had not found his entire existence, everything that meant something to him, in ruins all at once.

I went downstairs to the others in silence.

Did the theater play for them that, given the circumstances, I was fine, even though it looked completely different inside me.

Meanwhile the vacation was over. I had spent the last one in Ticino, where I had played a theater for my best friends like everyone else.

I am okay, I would look into the future, look for my calling.

In truth, my heart couldn't be emptier.

I was hollow. A lifeless doll that only worked to calm everyone down.

I hid the pain deep inside.I didn't cut like others. That would defeat the purpose of this farce.

Although sometimes I wish I was dead and toyed with the thought of killing myself.

I went to the new school after the holidays.

I was downgraded a year so I wouldn't have any problems. I was also allowed to finish my Matura thesis next year on the same topic.

My class was kind to me and, unlike my old class, I had many friends.

I was also popular with the boys. That had never been the case before.

I've been to church every Sunday since the incident. Friends from the area picked me up and took me away.

I should be happy, but I am not.

I feel like I am missing something.

Maybe it was the closeness to God. Maybe it was just the fact that nobody knew me anymore.

All only knew my shell.

I was lying in my room with the door locked. It was a habit by now.

Just like the following turning on my brother's macbook and turning on the music.

Since I got the hard drive back on, I've been listening to all the songs once. I wasn't through yet, but then I would just start again because I didn't feel like downloading new songs. That would just take me further away from my family.

My godmother, who had adopted me in the meantime, did everything to ensure that I had a comfortable life, but she