I’ve been intellectually disabled my entire life. One day, I said something truly horrific.

Unfortunately, it’s not a joke. I’ve always been extremely simpleminded, and my vocabulary consists mainly of basic phrases. I can’t even sign my own name, I just put a quick scribble at the bottom of a piece of paper.<br><br>I live in a group home with a bunch of other people with disabilities, and we all have various degrees of impairment. There’s a guy named Robbie who goes on long intellectually complex tirades about who knows what, and of course you gotta have the obligatory non-verbal guy who just pounds his head against the wall.<br><br>I’ve always been pretty lucky. My disability checks cover my rent, and my two caretakers have been very patient with me and have helped me out these last few years. It’s not a great life, but I can live with what I have.<br><br>One of the caretakers, Patti, is a very kind woman who takes the time out of her day to talk with me. She always brings me my favorite snack and makes sure I’m okay. The other caretaker, Brenda, seems distant and only talks to me when she has to. One night, Patti wasn’t feeling great and wasn’t at work. I didn’t really like it when she was gone because it made me anxious, so I was very comforting when Brenda talked with me. <br><br>Normally, she’ll just ask me basic questions that I can answer with a short phrase, but tonight she talked about a TV show she was watching. I didn’t know what was going on, so I asked her to tell me more. <br><br>She kept talking, which I was happy about, right up until she was interrupted.<br><br>Suddenly, Robbie charged through the hallway, screaming. He was gushing blood and holding his head. He tripped and fell right next to me, and blood all over the side of my pajamas. <br><br>I began to panic and scream, but I heard Robbie mutter something as he died. <br><br>“What the fuck did you say?”<br><br>It sounded like he said “you killed me. You killed me.” But that’s not what he said at all.<br><br>It sends shivers down my spine even thinking about it. <br><br>Robbie didn’t say “you killed me”, he said “you killed her.”<br><br>Nadia, the non-verbal guy who pounds his head against the wall, was my twin sister. She died six months after birth. <br><br>I’ve always felt in the pit of my gut that I killed Nadia that night. She was weak and premature, and she died of brain damage. The official cause of death was Shaken Baby Syndrome. <br><br>I was only six months old when my sister died, how could I have done that?<br><br>Last night was the first time Brenda wasn’t distant with me. She smiled, and then she put her hands around my throat. <br><br>She choked me until I couldn’t breathe, and as I lay here on the floor dying, I remember that night where I killed my own sister.