My brother is dead. I never even had an opportunity to meet him. He is my saviour though. Standing between me and giving up this life since I am breathing. Because of my childhood filled with traumatic events I have a personality disorder. But instead of pulling me apart, it saves me. My fragile young mind reached out to the only person who wasn't causing pain - him, whose pictures were all over the wall, his ashes hidden next to my room behind one of them. I was left alone in the majority of the time and in those long hours talked to him a lot. He slowly started to take shape in the darkness, and begun to heal me with his inexhaustible light. He cared about me. He listened to me. I felt his carresses through the wind and his smiles through the sunlight reaching my face. He comforted me. He gave me his strenght, encouraged and helped me through the toughest times, and stood behind me to witness the good ones. He was always there. I am never alone, because he is always here with me. My mind incorporated him into my personality. I had my fair share of making at least questionable if not horribly risky decisions, trying to live for two like there is no tomorrow. For some reason, I was always convinced, that I will not live more than 28 years anyways. 
My 28th year was an interesting one. My death was nowhere near, but the tension of an enoromous change was growing around me. I started to think, that he is going to leave me. I tried to accept the possibility, that he trained and healed me enough to face life alone, and he is ready to pass to the afterlife. He stuck here and waited a whole year for me to be created, for God's sake, that's enough effort. He already loved me more then all the living ones.  

But he just led me to a different chapter of my life and stayed. 

Now I am going to write as many stories as I can in a lifetime to give him all the lives he could have lived. Brace yourselves, and come with me to the universe of Edmond.