Bloody Bonds

May 18th, 2021

It was an early end of the school year at Penn Brook college and students could be seen from miles celebrating. They all jumped up and down, swinging each other around in the form of dancing, singing along to the radio- much like little children. "Uncivilized brats", was what my grandfather always called them when he came down to visit me and witnessed their mini celebrations, his sneer thicker than his whitened mustache. A smile spread almost instinctively across my lips as I thought back to granpapa. Excitement set upon me as got in my car, the leather seats that coated the inside feeling like soft heaven as I sunk into them. I pictured my home back in Maine. The home where I grew up in, the home where my granpapa lived, and the place I was to head back to. Quickly fastening my seat belt, and preparing myself for the drive, I thought back to all the times we had spent together. Granpapa was a stern, quiet old man, who somehow held within him the same amount of sass as a disrespectful teenager.

"Your to intellegent for those numbskulls slackies my dear," Was his rehearsed line everytime he caught me staring wistfully at the other children- the other children who had friends- ,"Intellegience scares the common minded."

He showered me with love and care ever since he took me in after my parents death. He raised me as his own, educating me in the ethics of the world, and the things he believed to be most important. Pushing me as a shcolar- he led me through my journey as a Harvard applicant and managed my acceptance. And although he to this day continues to insist it was because of my hard work I got in, I have no doubt that our exstensive family riches had something to do with it.

The Drago family remained to be the richest family living within the peaceful state of Maine, as well as the entire country. No one is fully certain from where the Dragos obtained their wealth. Some say they ran an underground street gang that held influence over many important figures and garenteed them success- others say my grandfather gambled away his soul for money.

Do I believe any of these rumors?

Perhaps if you met the Dragos you'd understand. They are known for their peculiar tastes, mistreating nature, unethical breeding, and collected minds. If someone was to look up the definition of "refinement" in the dictionary you would most surely see a picture of the Dragos neatly cropped and printed.

The drive up to Maine was long. My small Ford Focus that I absolutely loved to drive was the only thing keeping me company on the stretched out and lonely road. Only minutes within the car I could already smell the fresh sea salty air that came from the ocean near our cottage. The air somehow always smelled different at our cottage, even outside. It was cleaner, cooler, and more homey than any other scent. I took a deep breath of the air conditioning as I imagined it. Home.

A sudden bitterness followed alongside the happiness in that thought. Home. The word stuck to my brain like glue, a frown fell upon my face.

My grandpapa was not the only one I had fond memories of home with. My grandmama raised me like a daughter. "Life is only as sweet as you make it my love. Hard work is what gets you good things", was one of the things she told me over and over. She told it to me till it was rehearsed in my mind like a familiar poem.

Grandmama never had to work very much. Grandpapa's fortune was more than enough to keep them steady, even after the birth of their three children. Although she would've argued putting up with Grandpapa's bullsh*t was a job of its own. She was what really made the small, stone, bleak, cottage feel comfy. With her gone its still home.

At least until the rest of the Dragos come.