1 Chapter 1: Child

“Mark, quit it,” the lady laughed, as her husband hugged her from behind, “I’m just as excited as you are, it’s a wonder on how the ultrasound showed all three of them in perfect health, isn’t it?”

“Of course, Brooke.” her husband replied, and spun her around to face him, “and I’ll love each of them the same.”

“Of course you will, you are the kindest man that I ever met.” Brooke hugged him, and kissed his cheek.

“Come on, let’s get going. We’ve got three boys' names to find.” Mark responded, and opened the car door, Brooke climbed in, and buckled up, “I’m a lucky man to have a wife like you.” he closed the door and climbed in on the other side.

Six months later, it was June, and Brooke lay in the bed holding her first son, her husband held the second, and the doctor held the third. Three little boys were born that day of June 25th. A happy mother, and a happy father. Mark Daniel Twilighz and his wife, Brooke Hope Twilighz, named the three boys, from oldest triplet to youngest, Mark Joseph, William Samson, and Josiah Davis. The first was named after his father, and his mother’s brother, the second after his grandfathers, and the third after his father’s brothers.

Brooke decided to try to teach her children school early in their life, and at two, tried to teach them kindergarten, however, only one actually paid attention, that one was Mark Joseph Twilighz, his brothers, William and Josiah preferred eating, and playing respectively. Mark learned the basics in kindergarten, and took first grade without a problem the year after. However, Mark Twilighz, senior, loved his wife, but wished that his namesake son would be more childlike, it never happened, because of this, he slowly started to dislike this child, and started to spend more time with the other two. Brooke didn’t mind, although she should have, she loved all of her boys equally and decided to keep it that way.

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“Daddy wead me stowy!” Josiah cried out as he waddled over, in his four-year old body to his father.

“Okay, buddy, hop on over here.” Mark, Sr. said to his son lifting a book from the bookshelf.

“No, Daddy,” Josiah laughed, “Dat’s Wiwwiam’s favowit.”

“Oh, so which one is yours?” his father replied kneeling to his son.

“Dis one!” Josiah nearly yelled, grabbing a book with a princess and a frog on the front cover.

“Ah, the book of Fairy Tales!” he said, placing the other book on the shelf again, and lifted his little boy onto his lap.

Mark, Jr. walked into the room, and received a glare from his father, the little four-year-old walked over to the coffee table and placed a second-grade math book onto it, he flipped it open to one of the last pages, and began to work on his math problems.

“Hewwo, Daddy!” William said, waddling over with a cracker in his hand, he had crumbs on his face, showing he had been eating crackers for a while.

“Hello, my muscle-man!” Mark, Sr. responded, and lifted the little boy onto his lap, and began to read the story, Josiah had flipped to.

Brooke walked into the living room and took a picture of her happy family, then, she walked over to her son, Mark, and sat down beside him, “Do you need any help?” she asked, pointing to the problem he appeared to be having trouble on.

“No, mommy,” Mark, Jr. laughed, “128 minus 76 is 52!”

Brooke smiled, “Ah, I see, it looks to me like you're ready for third grade math.”

“Weally, mommy?” Mark asked, “but, I’m only fouw-yeaws-old.”

“Yes, sweetheart.” Brooke smiled, and pulled out a third grade math book.

“Can I stawt?” Mark asked, reaching his tiny hands out for the book in his mother’s hands.

“Of course.” She handed the book over to her son, and smiled, she loved the way he was eager to learn, he already nearly mastered second grade grammar, writing, and reading, but math was his strong suit.

“Mommy, can I hewp wif dinnw?” William asked, tugging at his mother’s shirt sleeve and nearly pulling her over.

“William, you’d eat it all before I could even start,” Brooke laughed, “but okay.”

William laughed as he followed his mother into the kitchen, she loved his helpful attitude, and his strength. One day, she was sure he'd save tons of lives.

Josiah waddled up to his mother, “Mommy, can I have fwiends over tomowwow? Da gows in my cwass want to see me awot, and if dey come over, den, dey can see me, wight?”

“Okay, but just this once, Joe.” Brooke laughed, and tickled her little love-boy. She liked how he was so kind to the girls his age. Her sudden cheerfulness shattered as she heard a yell. “What was that, Mark?” she gasped, rushing into the living room.

“Brooke, sweetheart, I told this little rascal to go do his reading somewhere else, I was trying to relax, and watch this TV show, and he wouldn’t stop reading.” Mark, Sr. replied, pointing at his namesake child.

“Oh, I see, Mark, can you read in your head please?” she asked, looking over at her son.

“But, mommy, I was.” Mark, Jr. responded, “but I’ll wead somewhere else.” he replied, and picked up all of his school books, and hurried off in the direction of his room, crying.

Even though this wasn’t the first time he was yelled at by his father, it was the first time his mother didn’t understand his situation. His tears burned his little cheeks. His vision blurred as he worked on his school, he took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes, he couldn’t do it, no matter how many times he tried, his father never would accept him, he grabbed out his journal from under his brothers’ bunk-bed, and opened it to the last place he wrote anything down, and began to scribble down words of encouragement to himself,

Dear future self,

I understand if you are going through a hard bad time, but it's ok, because you can do it.

“If daddy won’t listen to me, then, I suppose, I will have to wite evewything down.” Mark mumbled to himself, and cleared off his glasses, and placed them back on his face. He started to read his book again, and tried to read with the tears blurring his eyes.

“Mark, sweetheart, are you okay?” Brooke asked, and before she heard her son’s answer, he was at the door.

“Yes, mommy, I’m fine, thank you.” he walked out, and into the kitchen.

The house wasn’t all that big, it was all they could really afford, and still pay for food for the family, and William, since he ate so much. The boys shared a room, and they shared a room, and then there was a living room and kitchen, with a small table where the living room and kitchen meet. There wasn’t any room for furniture, except a couch, a coffee table, and two chairs and a bench to fit at the table. The boys would sit at the bench during dinner, and they would sit in the foldable chairs. They normally used paper plates, because they couldn’t afford the water bill to run the dishwater all the time. It was a sad place, but it was home, and they loved it, because they had somewhere.

A few years passed, and Mark became used to his father’s yells and screams. His mother also became used to them, to his disappointment. Josiah started to go by Joe, and started to bring girls over more often. With only five people in the house it was crowded, but with seven or eight people it was packed. Mark, Sr. got a raise, and Brooke got a new job. They soon moved out of the small place into one with three bedrooms, but still one bathroom, it had a hallway, but still a small kitchen. The family ate in the living room, because the kitchen didn’t have room for their table. Luckily the living room fit the table, the bench, couches, and the coffee table. There was actually enough room to add another chair to the table. Mark got that one, only because his father didn’t want him sitting next to William and Joe on the same bench, he also got the extra bedroom, for the same reasons.

“At least this room doesn’t need a bed, and a bunk bed in here.” Mark laughed.

“You got that right,” William responded, placing an arm over his triplet nine-year-old brother.

Joe squeezed in between them, “I’m jealous.”

“Why?” William asked.

“Well, let’s put it this way, Mark gets to have his own room, and invite girls over, and they can all hang out in his room with him, but me, I have to have the girls hang out with me in our room, William.” Joe responded.

Mark laughed, “Because I’m the one who invites girls over.”

“Well, you could say that your eighth-grade textbooks are your girls that you invite over.” Joe laughed.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll go ask my math book if she’s okay with being stuffed in a backpack.” Mark responded, with a smile.

“But your math book never goes in your backpack.” William said, after a thought.

“Yeah, your right, I suppose, it’s up to the logic book then, maybe she’ll have fun being read.” Mark laughed, with his brothers, and they pushed the desk into the room.

“This door is so small I can touch both sides with my elbows at the same time.” Joe observed, as he demonstrated what he was saying.

“I suppose it’s a little small, but, that’s okay, right?” Mark asked.

“Why are you the one who gets his own room?” Joe asked.

“It’s because he is older.” William responded for Mark, not understanding the actual details on why.

“Yeah, by what, forty-five minutes?” Joe asked.

“Yes, and he is more mature than us, too, Joe. He just finished his second year of junior high.” William explained.

“Okay, okay, I get it. But Mark, when I have my friends over, can we hang out in your room?” Joe cheerfully recovered.

“What, are you insane?” Mark asked, “look, I don’t want anything getting ruined, especially my sheets.”

William laughed.

“What’s so funny, any boy who is in love would draw hearts on their sheets.” Joe defended himself.

“No, I do believe that’s just you,” William answered.

“And, if they did draw on their sheets, I’m sure the sheets wouldn’t be white, and the marker rose-red.” Mark added.

“Be quiet.” Joe answered.

“Mark!” their father called.

“I’m coming, dad.” Mark responded and made his way to his father, he could tell his father wasn’t happy at that moment, and probably wouldn’t be, until he took care of whatever he needed taken care of.

“Come and pick up these boxes.” Mark, Sr. demanded of his son, “I cannot have your trash hanging around my sons’ supplies and items. Get rid of them right now.”

Mark started to pick up his box, and he felt a shot of pain sting his cheek, he stood up, and turned, with the box in his hands, and walked back into the house. When he came back to pick up the last box, his father yelled in his ear to hurry up, and then slapped him for being too slow. Mark merely stood up, and walked back into the house with his hands carrying the box. His brothers were eating lunch, and he walked into his room, and rubbed his ear, it stung, and he couldn’t do anything about it.