1 Where I am at Now...

I'm your average person, moving from place to place almost mechanically in the crisp February air. Not really planning for the future, just facing each day as it comes. My name is Luca Aines, and I am a guy fresh out of high school. I don't have enough money to further my education and my parents cut me out of the will just before they went and got themselves killed.

I was seventeen and just came out as gay to my parents along with telling them I did not want to become a doctor. That is what the police said "pushed them over the edge". They cut me out of the will and gave it all to my younger sister, who is currently studying abroad with no clue our parents are even dead, and then were killed in what could only be called a purposeful car accident. My parents died when their car drove through a guard rail and into a river.

When they pulled the car out of the water the forensic guy working for the police said that there was no sign of struggle to get out of the car. They decided they either passed out from the impact or something else was at play. I was then questioned due to the fact that they found the documents that confirmed the editing of my parent's will. I explained what had happened earlier in the week, and the police officer looked at me with a knowing expression. After the case was settled, he then proceeded to give me his number. He told me to call him after I had cleared my head. I never did.

Now, a year and half later, I have a job as a personal assistant for a childhood friend of mine. It pays well but each day is demanding. Four out of the six days a week that I work, I am stuck working overtime to fix mistakes made by my co-workers who actually get to leave on time. Ugh. My old friend, who I work for, is named Teddy Go.

He keeps telling me that I should tell my sister that our parents are gone, but we do not have a good relationship to begin with, so how am I supposed to tell her that, 'Hey, sis! You know our parents that you were always super close to and favorited by? Well, they were killed and the police suspect me to have played a role in the reason for the accident. Anyways, how is studying abroad?'

I mean, I just can't. She is now sixteen and in her second to last year of high school. Our parents had already prepaid for her to continue and go to college abroad. Along with the money in her inheritance, she technically never has to come back home. But that also means that I have somewhere around five and a half years to tell her that the inheritance is hers.

Anyway, I'm eighteen going on nineteen this October 30, All Hallows' eve, and I live with me, myself, and I in a two room apartment in California. I have the money to move somewhere better, but I don't have the motivation or need for the extra space. I have always lived in cramped conditions, so I guess you could say that I am used to it?

My mother, father, sister, the twins and I all lived in a three bedroom house. As cliche as it sounds, yes I lived in the attic. Although it was fully finished with flooring and walls so the only problem was with it being small. My parents were tolerable for most of my life because of one reason only, I had my two older brothers. I was last in the rankings of favorite child, and it was obvious. It was never really big things that pointed it out, but the small things. The Christmas stalking that was put out a day late, the packed lunch that looked thrown together instead of planned the night before, or when my artwork was the one piece of paper at the bottom of the fridge while my brothers' and sisters took up the rest of it.

Then my brothers both turned eighteen, when I was twelve. They were six years older than me and eight years older than my sister. Immediately after graduating into adulthood, they joined the army and went to battle. When I was fourteen, three men showed up at our door, all dressed in the same uniform. It was so late into the night, that I should not have been awake. My sister was fast asleep, and I had come downstairs for a water bottle to take back up with me. I had been unable to fall asleep because of some uneasy feeling in my mind and gut. When I arrived at the bottom of the stairs, the doorbell rang. My father unwrapped his arm from around my mother and answered the door. It was my parent's weekly movie night and they had been snuggled up on the couch watching who knows what.

When my mother saw the soldiers at the door, she immediately sprang up from the couch and practically ran to my father's side in the door frame. She was already teary eyed, even before the soldiers said anything. When I heard that my brothers had been taken as prisoners of war and then they were never returned after the war had ended, I was in shock at first. That is where my memories start to go blurry and some things become fuzzy. I remember screaming. Everyone looked at me, just realizing I was there. The soldiers looked at me with pity and sadness, one even looked with understanding. It annoys me, and I hate it when people try to understand your situation and never realize that they have no clue how these events impact your life. I hate pity even more…

My mother rushed to me and hugged me, soothing me as my father still looked like he could not believe what he had heard. My mother, holding me that night, was the only time in my memory when she even tried to tell me "It's okay" or reassure me of something.

My sister was someone who often sang in her room, so our parents had it soundproofed when she was six. She slept through my screaming and everything. My parents were back to their normal selves come morning. I was the one who had to tell her about our brothers. They had always made me deliver the bad news. As if to make me look like the criminal and so that they could make themselves seem like angels in her eyes, or something.

That is why I feel that having to tell her of our parents death, is just a final 'Screw you!' they gave me the honor of dealing with, coming from beyond the land of the living.

Back to my life now, I have no boyfriend and life is boring but good. My parents had wanted some big funeral and an even bigger crypt for their bodies… So I decided to have them cremated and their ashes spread across the ocean. They hated the ocean, always complaining of the sand and birds. Maybe that is why it is my favorite place to be? Revenge always comes to bite you in the butt when you least expect it mother… or the ashes that used to be your butt. Ha!

I have never been far from the ocean and it is where I spend most of my free time, which in and of itself is very little. I have a Doberman Pinscher named Rocki, and he loves the water. Although I have to keep telling him not to drink it. My life is very uneventful now that my parents are gone. My sister never talks to me... I love it! I would be fine living out the rest of my life like this, no ups and, more importantly, no downs. Until this happened… Of course! *Sigh*