(no subject)

When she was brought into the world, her family was already four, making little Rhea number the third child. Tragedy struck two years later when her mother was bringing into the world a little brother for the youngest girl to play with. Already Rhea had one older sister and one older brother, and she had been as excited as a two-year-old could be for another member of the family. It wasn't meant to be, however.
The little boy and her mother didn't make it, and just like that, five turned into four.

The father of all three children did as best as he could to pick up the slack, taking as much time off of work to console his babies as he possibly could. It wasn't long after Rhea's third birthday her older sister fell sick. The flu, they'd said, and her fever refused to break, even in the hospital.
Four turned to three.

Heartbroken, the father of two moved homes, taking with them as few memories of their dwindling family as he could. Rhea's older brother was eight when he passed, having jumped off a bridge into a shallow river during a field trip in an effort to show off to new friends his swimming prowess.
And then they were down to two.

Rhea spent a lot of time in therapy, coming to terms with the accidents surrounding her family. How it's not her fault, even though she wondered if things would have been different or better had she not been born. She tries not to think about it, and tries not to bring it up, because she still remembers the look on her father's face when he picked her up from day care crying because she was all he had left.