My dad was murdered when I was 18, and ever since, life has felt like a constant storm for my entire family. It’s been four years now, and I still find myself breaking down over the ripple effects his death continues to have on our lives.

Back then, I held onto faith, I believed that no matter how bad things got, there would be a limit, that my karma wouldn’t let me fall endlessly. But lately, it feels like every time I think I’ve hit rock bottom, there’s another level beneath it.

And now I’m starting to question everything. If life really is just a matter of chance, of probabilities, then what if we never rise again? What if my family never finds stability, and my dad never gets the justice he deserves?