Hello, my name is Isaac Wood, and right now I'm having a life-and-death struggle.

The reason? to answer this, I need to tell a little of my story, not that this is the right moment, since I'm almost dying, but I believe it's necessary.

In my life, I went through various trials, which I considered to be chance or challenge of destiny.

My hell started at the age of five, when my country died for lost bullets from a gunfight, between police and thugs. For me, it was a terrible shock, after all, I was very attached to my mother.

However, there was still one person who loved me dearly, my sister.

My sister, Sarah Wood, since she was a little girl she taught me the highest values and taught me to never give up on my dreams, just as she did not give up on hers.

Although she was only 16, she left school without a second thought, just to support me.

Soon after the death of our country, we began to live with our uncle Robert Wood, who was not the best of his uncles, since he was always drunk or drugged, and did not care about our education and thoughts.

Robert was divorced and unfortunately lost his children to his wife, if he came close, he would be caught and sentenced to prison. He then went in and depression and started drinking and smoking.

Because of this and other reasons, my sister worked just like a slave, just to support us and not need to depend on others, but this, unfortunately, ended up harming her health. She always tried every way to make me happy or at least smile.

However, our country was in a huge crisis, the streets were all kinds of protests and a civil war had exploded in some states. It was really hell for a 16-year-old to be.

I was able to endure the pain of losing my parents, the hunger we had and the sadness of being abandoned by the rest of the world, just because of my sister.

The value she gave me was simple and hard for many, but for me it was and always was everything in my life: "Isaac, we may not have our parents any more, we can go hungry sometimes, we may be suffering from the cold and I I may never realize my dream one day, but Isaac ... the only thing I ask you to do is; be the most dedicated and the hardest of all, I do not want you to continue to suffer, my silly little brother. Strive to reach the future that you want, the future that belongs to you. "Saying such things with tears filled that cold night was really something that would never leave my mind and change me forever.

At 8 years old, always reflecting on what my sister said that night, I became one of the best students in the school, perhaps because the subjects were basic and simple, but I also know that it was because of my memory that it was much better than the others. However, I will speak of this later.

As I tried to be the hardest, I did not develop any friendship, fellowship or anything, leaving me stuck in my own world, being insensitive about these things ... maybe because my only friends were my sister and the books.

And that way, I ended up jumping a few years at school because of the effort put in, but do you know what happens when a child ages 8 to 9 is in the same class as 11-year-olds? I'll tell you; she is beaten and suffers in the hands of the older children and, in the end, this is called a 'joke'.

The children, at least in my country, seemed to have a gigantic hatred and discount the weakest. As I was the youngest and most prominent in school, I was the perfect target for the students in my class.

Every morning when I got to school, during the break and at the end of the class, I was attacked by the other students and even if the teachers saw it, I believe they only thought: It's just a child's thing.

I never resorted to violence, I never wanted to raise my fists to defend myself or to attack, I did not need it, I did not want any more hatred, I just wanted it to end at a time, those minutes being punched, kicked and verbally threatened, time for me. I could be spending those minutes learning and reading.

At that time, that was all I thought about, learning and becoming a rich man to care for and give my sister the happiness she deserved.

And so, time passed, and at my age my sister became ill.

She was 20 and had become a beautiful woman, wanted and considered a flower in the trash where she worked.

The disease was the result of the environment where she worked, which involved "unconventional" materials. This disease was incurable in those years, and the cure had only come after 11 years.

My sister, who was my pillar, my example and my motivation, was about to collapse. The illness was rapid and deadly, but Sarah still persisted fiercely for a full year, yet I had lost my emotional support.

Our uncle, to avoid trouble on his side, sent my sister to the hospital at once and I could only visit her once every month.

My guard was passed on to my other uncle, who was an extremely violent inveterate drunkard. He had gone to war when he was younger and ended up losing one leg. Under his roof, I was beaten for any reason that came to mind and so was part of my childhood with my uncle.

I believe that, because of this excessive abuse, my determination developed even more firmly, but fate still held the worst for me ...

I saw my sister getting sicker, more and more, on that white, lonely bed.

Every time I saw her in that bed, my chest ached, I wanted to heal her, and I wanted her to give me that warm smile again, but all I saw was my poor, unhappy sister. Even as she struggled to give me that smile I longed for, it was no longer the same, the fear of death had overwhelmed her eyes.

Thinking about it now, it was obvious she would be afraid. After all, as a teenager she had to endure the loss of her parents, care for a child who did not understand anything about the world and as soon as she stepped into adulthood, she was faced with an incurable disease ...

Though I was indifferent, unfeeling, and clinging to nothing, my sister was my weakness.

I was a very complicated child to deal with and really did not care about anything else, except to try and do Sophia's good.

Then the day of my sister's death had come. I did not cry, I did not allow myself to cry, I swore to her that I would strive and shape the future I sought. If I cried, I knew she would scold me.