{You're all so incredibly kind and gentle, I don't quite know how to respond to you all, thank you all.
Mark and I were raised together in state institutions because our mother abused us, she got away with it for 5yrs of my childhood, but her neighbours saw me hiding from her in the garden one day, I was dreadfully bruised all over my face, neck and body, her neighbours called the police because she came thundering out the house after me and knocked me about the head from one end of the garden to another.
I realise many of you may think our family were traumatised by Marks suicide, my mother and Dad are both dead, Mark was my only brother. We never new any other family members in this country, if there are any, in terms of blood family, I'm alone here now.

I've been to therapy, it didn't help.}

The day before Mark killed himself, we'd had a terribly row, he was always hitting me and calling me names, I lost my temper with him and spat venemously at him that I wished he would f-off and kill himself. Marks face brimmed with shock and distress, he stopped hitting me and said very quitely, "I love you Bro'", he turned and stormed out.
I waited up all night for him to come back to our house, I just sat in silence staring out og the front room window at the gate, waiting and hoping he would be coming home soon, he didn't come. I eventually got so tired I had to surrender to the demands of my fatigued body, I fell asleep instantly.
I awoke in a cold sweat and with a pounding heart, I could hear the kettle on the ring boiling away, I also heared the grill clanking as it was being slid into the cooker, the delicious scent of bacon and coffee assault my system, I was ravenous.
Having cleaned myself up a little, I plodded downstairs to eat breakfast with Mark, I walked into the kitchen, Mark was at the cooker frying eggs, I grumpily said goodmorning to him, he ignored me. He eventually turned around and tossed several rounds of toast on my plate, along with half a dozen rashers of bacon and four eggs, my stomach growled. Mark was pouring my favourite coffee into my mug when the doorbell rang, I ignored it, we weren't expecting anyone. The door ringer was persistent, the ringing became an annoying banging on the door.
Without even a single taste of my yummy to be breakfast I trudged to the front door, upon opening the door I was confronted by the sight of a cheaply suited middle aged balding man and a dreary looking younger female in a tacky pin-stripped skirt suit.
Barely able to hold my frustration I bellowed my displeasure at them, "what do you want".
They introduced themselves as CID officers, my hackles flew up, feckin pigs, that's just great, I told them to p-off.
The male put his foot in the door, I swung the door back open and repeated my direction with more vigour, they took it rather well really. The male copper asked me a single question next, he asked me if I knew my Bro'. I responded with my usual wit and charm and told him to f-off.
He again stopped me from shutting the door, by this time my patience was almost gone.
The next thing he said didn't register straight away, he just blurted it out, my head jarred violently. I shouted angrily at them, telling them I didn't think this was f'ing funny. The male copper repeated his statement that my Bro' had commited suicide and he requested that I come along to identify the body.
My head was swimming giddily, I stepped back into the hallway and looked into the kitchen, another head jarr, my breakfast was gone, the smell of coffee, bacon and eggs was gone, the kitchen was empty.

This is really hard, sorry, I've got to stop again, my eyes are too sore.