Ninety-Nine Days

[Credit goes to lystrandra and oceandweller13 for editing the prologue! Thank you very much!]

Ninety- Nine Days

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Prologue

[Washington, 1889]

Deep down, he knew that this was all real, that this was not all in his head, but he just could not convince himself that the bodies before him were those of his family.

 "Pa...pa?" he whispered shakily while reaching out a hand towards the lifeless body he identified as his father. "Please- I- N-not this...!" The young man quickly retracted his hand when he remembered what would happen if he touched the dead body. He did not want to relive that memory because it would only dilute his struggling denial.

The grass and tree branches moved occasionally with the rhythm of the soft wind, but he could not feel anything. He didn't feel the stray branches crush beneath his bare feet or the intense heat emitted from the violent activity beside him.

 He shook his head slowly, his gaze never deserting the bodies as he chanted repeatedly. His family was alive, not dead. Right now his mother would be at the stove cooking up one of her famous dishes that the whole family loved. His father, who carried a soft heart yet was stern with his workers, would be out in the woods, chopping more wood for the winter nights. And his sister, oh, his silly Anna, would be clinging to his arm talking nonstop about the new trend that was in town. Nothing would be different. Nothing. Because his family would be doing the same routine he'd grown up with.

 He collapsed to his knees limply.

This was all a nightmare to him.

These people were not his family. No. They just... Even if the two deceased women carried the same light shade of hair like his mother and sister, it could not mean... And his father--

 He buried his face in his hands, the strands of his fair hair caressing his face.

Did he do something wrong? Did one of the pranks cause this? He tried thinking back to all the pranks he had executed and could not think of anyone going to the extreme of wanting to kill his family.

 He shook his head.

No.

Was this all his fault?

He gripped his matted hair and released a frustrated growl. He didn't know, couldn't remember what had happened before his--

"No!" he suddenly shouted, trembling. Even though he was in denial, his voice lacked any emotion.

 No one was dead. Not his mother, not his father, and especially not his sister. No.

However, the other side of him spoke otherwise.

It was a struggle.

How could he be dead when he had so many things he wanted to do? How could his family be gone when they still had so much to live for? His sister was dreaming of the day she would get married to her secret crush; his mother was waiting to hold her first grandson or granddaughter; his father was so excited for his own son to take over the family business. And...

 He could not bear to look at the fourth body lying, motionless, beside his sister.

There was no way that that lifeless male lying beside his sister was his body.

Nolan lowered his hands to his lap and forced himself to avert his gaze from his lifeless family to stare at the burning house that was just about a few feet away. The flames were licking away at the wooden home that his father had proudly built for the family. He wondered how long it would take for the people in town to see the dark smoke that was climbing higher and higher towards the ebony sky.

Would anybody come?

Was he really dead?

He tossed his head back slowly and absorbed the sight of the full moon. In his mind, he could hear his sister complementing the moon's beauty in awe.

"Please," he begged pathetically, with a squeeze of his dried eyes. "Please wake me up from this nightmare!"

 The wind howled viciously and stimulated the trees and bushes to shift violently, carrying the tormented pleas of a dead young man.