I don't quite understand death. I don't think anyone quite does, but when it comes into your life, it hits you like a brick in the stomach. She was beautiful. Long, glowing blonde hair, and deep ocean eyes. She was kind too. She would bring breakfast to the elders next door every morning, smell the roses on her morning walks, and sing to the children at the daycare she worked at part-time. The feeling of numbness has never left my body ever since she died. But it's like I'm constantly hungry, not for food, but for revenge. You see, my mother was stabbed in a robbery. She was trying to protect me... from my father. A man so full of wrath and greed that he tried to kill his own son. It's been 15 years now. I was 9.
In times like these I can only imagine why he did this to me, but as I got older, I learned things about myself. Things that most people my age don't really think about. As I grew older, my thoughts grew louder. I can see things most people can't, and do things most people definitely can't. When I was 3, I learned to read and write. When I was 8, I could move things with my mind. When I was 9 I began seeing people. People who were definitely not there. My mother taught me how to use these powers. She said they were a gift. My father said they were weapons. Maeve Beatrix-Summer was a scientist who worked in the supernatural field. A field classified for most: and William Summer, the head of the military at the facility where she worked. I knew from the very beginning that my father was dangerous, but I didn't know he was insane.
Sometimes I wonder what I would do to him, what I would say if I ever saw him again. I believe I might try and kill him, just as he tried to kill me.
"Milan?" said a familiar voice. My aunt is a lovely woman. She and her husband Rowan took me in after my mother died and my father left. But she is naive.
"It's time for dinner sweetheart." She says in a soft tone.
I follow her out of the room and into the dining room. I set the table and sit down to eat. I don't say a word, but Uncle Rowan does.
"Hectic day at work. Had a paper due, about Roxanium." He says to me.
I stare at him. Roxanium was brought up a lot when I was a kid, and when I moved in with the Beatrixs, it was all Rowan would talk about. Uncle Rowan works in the same lab my mother worked in, but Aunt Sadie doesn't really understand their work.
"Milan, why don't you come to the lab with me tomorrow, and I'll show you around. I'll even let you hold some Roxanium." He winks at me.
I do not want to go but I don't really have much of a choice. I nod at him, looking at the blank wall with cheap, chipped-off white paint behind him.
