It was a sunny friday when Nico's parents realized that there was something wrong with him.
Some weeks later, on a rainy Wednesday, they decided to take him to a psychologist for the first time, because he didn't stopped to talk about seeing dead people everywhere.
On a cloudy, slightly windy Monday, nearly four years and several medicinal treatments later, that all didn't work, the tall, blonde, quite attractive, how his mother thought, doctor for mental dysfunctions, that got recommended to them by several people, told them it would probably be a good to put their son in an mental institute, just for a little while.
It was sunny again, warm, but with a nice breeze, when the car from the institute stopped in front of the door of the di Angelo's house, to pick up their son.
He didn't got asked, of course.
But, you have to know, even if they would have asked him, Nico would probably not have said a word against the idea.
I knew that it wasn't good to see all the dead people, he wanted them to disappear.
Sometimes he just tumbled over a pale corpse, or accidentally sad down next to someone who then smiled at him, toothless, with already rotten eyes in the big holes in their head.
No, Nico didn't had a problem with getting in to that institute, he wasn't happy either, of course, but everyone who knew him could have told you that the boy never smiled, so it wasn't to expect that he would be happy.
His parents saw how the car with his son inside left, they knew they wouldn't see him for a while, but they hoped he would be better when he would come home again.
His mother cried a little bit, his sisters as well.
They waved after him, even he couldn't see them.
On the drive he felt asleep, and so he was when they arrived, in the deep black night.
