Well this story for all intents and purposes starts not on mine but rather my brothers 16th birthday. After all this was the day that I realized what the first three truths of life truly meant. The first truth of life I realized was that Life isn’t fair. This held true for me the moment I was born, I suppose you could say I started out with this knowledge. Most kids have an epiphany some time in their life, when they don’t get something, or something bad happens that they can’t control ….or if they’re really lucky they will learn it from teachers in school. Not me, I was born crippled.

Now if I had known that I would be dying right now I may not have taken it so bad. Luckily it wasn’t the worst, I wasn’t scared or deformed. I had three dislocated (sort of), oddly weakened limbs and my left hand was the only working appendage I had. I could think clearly, not crazy or troubled in the head. I was just that no matter what I wanted my body to do whether it was to talk, eat or even wheel myself across the room I would need at least a minute before my body could respond. Zero coordination between mind and body and even if I did have coordination, having the use of just one arm would still have sucked……so yeah, life isn’t fair.

As for the second truth, well it wasn’t as dramatic as you may imagine. I wasn’t bullied or anything like that. It was simple really, a guy who has a good mind but poor body……..reads a lot of books. So yeah read any book, fiction, fantasy, history even porn……..whoever wins makes the rules. So yeah, I spent most of my early life reading, obviously home schooled and learning some truths of life before most other people even realize what the word life means.

Now you may be wondering why does a guy who has it so bad, and even knows that he has it so bad doesn’t just, you know…end it. After all there are people who commit suicide and what not for way less hopelessness than what I described. But if you have a family like mine it isn’t really an option. First and foremost, my mother, she is what I could describe as the perfect mother, from as early as I can remember, she loved me with all her heart, never condescending or annoyed or frustrated. I remember this conversation I once had with her “mom why….aren’t you frustrated…..you never stop me…you listen to me….you’re not angry that….I waste your time…speaking so slow” and she told me “son it’s not frustrating, listening to someone you love is never a waste of time, and just because someone can speak fast doesn’t mean what they said is worth more”. That was my mother for you, she may not look like much with a slightly short build, and she didn’t have the prettiest face around, but for me her heart was worth the entire world.

As for my father, he was devout man. I will not say what religion (as it does not matter), but he always said I was gift from god and had every right to enjoy the world, god gave me. He wasn’t a rich person, to afford me all of life’s luxuries, but he wasn’t poor either, he worked well and made enough to give me a wonderful life with everything I ever needed. Then there is my older brother, he was one year older than me and my best friend, he helped me whenever I had any difficulties.

In school he was the popular guy, grades above average, good looks, on the football team, and the baseball team too. He wasn’t exactly their star player, but an awesome all-rounder. He was an exercise freak though, and I was his best exercise buddy/equipment. Every morning he would take me in my wheel chair and push me around the block, we lived 10 minutes from his school, so it was often the case that I would make a few laps of the field and talk about the inconsequential stuff. Girls that like him, what game every one is playing right now on the internet. I liked teasing him about this girl he really liked, she liked him back, I knew this but until he gets around to asking her out….well who doesn’t like teasing their older sibling.

Of course it wasn’t a wonderful ice-cream and cookies type of life style that I just described. Just because my family wanted the best for me and didn’t want to burden me, doesn’t mean that I can’t see the obvious. Mom never showed it but she always had this ache in her heart, “how will I survive in this world once she is gone”. Dad never told us but I knew how much dad struggles to meet all out needs, how much he tried to hide his fatigue from work, and that slowly his health was failing. Even bro was worried, he knew that he may be popular, but his grades wasn’t outstanding, his playing wasn’t exceptional and with the financial struggle the family was going through, university didn’t seem possible for him.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

I was 12 when I realized all this. At 12 I had that superman complex, you know what I mean, you believe that everything is possible. That if you just try you can become an astronaut, a pilot, actor, space engineer, I believed that I could help save my family. At this time I really wanted to surprise everyone, make that heroic entrance. Being born as I was, you really gain tenacity. With these thoughts I studied for 6 months, thank god (or whoever) for the internet. I became an anonymous, online stock trader. It was a struggle at first, trading in the kiddie pool, and making small amounts of money for myself investing for other people, trying to make a name for myself as a stock broker. But I succeeded, it took me two years before I finally made enough money to get into the slightly bigger league ($50000). From there I struggled one more year, honestly it wasn’t much of a struggle, I was just lucky I suppose.

I found a Micro*oft subsidiary company that were in the process of releasing next gen processors. As luck would have it, I managed to purchase $50000 worth of shares before they sold out in under 10mins. That stock made me $1.2 million in a year, and I was all psyched to sell my shares in a few months and surprise everyone on my brothers 16th birthday.

----------Brothers 16th Birthday---------

As I am slowly losing consciousness from the torture and blood loss. I see the cuts on my arms, my pulled out fingernail stubs. The man holding a surgical knife to my left eye, as I look further ahead of the table. There is a form laid back on the chair, there is blood running from the gunshot wound in its head, I slowly make out my brothers face. I hear the thud, thud sound as if someone is tenderizing a steak, I look to the sound and see dad’s face covered in blood, there is a knife held at his throat, he is wearing no clothes. As his body it bent at a curled shape, back to the wall corner he is repeatedly kicked and punched by two other masked people. I hear a sound and look back to the knife at my left eye, the blackness of my vision recedes and I can make out the hand more clearly, a masked face comes closer to my face and I hear, “give us your account details, next thing to go will be your nose” I try to reply but…my body is slow, and he starts to dig the knife into my nose. I scream in pain, and once again don’t have the chance to say anything.

I feel so, I don’t think I have the words to describe what I feel right now, frustration…yes but perhaps hate in its truest sense would be more adequate….but what do I hate, myself that I brought this on my family, god that he gave me the sort of life that he did. These 12 masked man who broke into our house and shot my brother as we were celebrating his birthday. Frustration, anger, hate, rage, guilt……and then I heard a scream.

It was a loud scream ending abruptly, the sound of someone choking on blood. I look to the right, at the kitchen doorway, I can just make out a woman moaning in pain, mom was being raped.

I lost it, I snapped, I don’t know what I did, it’s all a blur. To this day I remember glimpses of fighting, being shot, and tearing people apart with my bear skin stripped, skeletal hands.

My last memory of my past life:

I am sitting on the floor surrounded by torn bodies and limbs, I hold moms corpse in my arms, her head is in my lap, tears falling down my face. Across the room I see dad with a knife in his chest blood pooling from his mouth. At the table bro is sitting in the chair, head laid back looking at me with dead eyes, as I feel the warmth of life leave my body. My vision steadily darkening, and in my mind the same thought going over and over again, why…why…why…why…

And then oblivion…?