So…how do I start this story? Well… first, my name I guess. My name is Arthur Clive… I’m… how to say this, I’m a person who gets scared easily. I’m not perfect, there are lots of things I can’t do, and things I can’t deal with… if I had to say one of my strengths, it would be that I can have people believe in me, and help me be more than I could be alone.

Let’s see… I’m nineteen years old, born the 24th June 1999… It is currently 2018, the first of December… of course, this is the time and circumstances at the BEGINNING of said story… and it is quite the insane tale…

I came from a slightly large family, having my parents, and three siblings, thus having six in a household, it got a bit strange but it wasn’t anything too insane.

I had anger issues when I was younger, though over time I became more understanding and calm about things. I was the second eldest of the four of us, my eldest brother being three and a half years older, my youngest being a whole seventeen years younger.

Large gap, but I was okay with it. I somehow ended up becoming the pride of the household, even though my elder brother was better at calculations than I, I was considered smarter… considering he dropped out of high school and I finished with distinctions, I was the ‘golden goose’ of the family, as much as I disliked that.

By the beginning of this story, I had been out of high school for a year, and was currently studying mechanical engineering at a college so I could become a tool crafter… looking back at that ‘dream’ from where I am now, it seemed so insignificant… so plain, so boring.

I would have been paid a lot, there was a demand for a supply after all, but I had felt very empty involving said career… I enjoyed learning; this much is true… but the end game? Seemed too small, and I didn’t know why…

Now, now I can look back at the me of then, the me of that day before, November 30th… and I wish I could have said to the younger me- ‘your life would be worth so much more than you can imagine… if you would only reach out.’ But even then, I have the feeling that the person I was back then wouldn’t have listened or understood… I was very lazy and stubborn back then after all.

That day, November 30, I had college classes, and woke up a bit late, but I hadn’t cared, it was a class I got high marks in (engineering drawing) so I ambled into the class tiredly about twenty minutes late for the class, taking a seat next to my best friend in college, Emilia.

Emilia was a foreign exchange student from either Russia or Germany (she could speak both languages and loved confusing anyone who asked… I could have checked, but it didn’t matter to me, Emilia was Emilia, whether Russian or German) and she was the first friend I made at my college, though she was the one who sought me out.

I was, and still am to an extent, a shy person, I rarely go out of my way to talk to people I don’t know, though that was because from a young age I noticed that I didn’t like the same things as most other people in my age group did, I wasn’t into sports, or talking about girls, or partying really…

I was always more quiet and withdrawn compared to most, though around my friends I was comfortable with sharing my opinions. Even among friends though, I was normally the guy calmly sitting in the corner listening in, not really talking along, sometimes I even cracked open a book (a favourite pass time of mine) and ignored what happened around me.

But Emilia, she wouldn’t accept me just blocking her out so easily. She arrived late into the college, and was placed next to my seat (due to the fact most in our class simply stayed away from me or sat in bigger groups elsewhere) and before she had even taken out her books she had simply smiled, reached a hand over and shook my hand, introducing herself as Emilia.

From then on, I made sure to always leave space near me for her. She was a comforting presence, a variable in my simple uniform life of wake up, go to class, get home and sleep. She also never seemed to really look for more friends than me, and I didn’t question it. I had no reason to question why the girl who looked like a super model sat with me of all people.

“Arthur, come on, you’re late… here, and we’re drawing this.” She handed me the page as I sat down, giving a nod as I pulled out my instruments. She had my back and I had hers. I didn’t need anything else to be a friend to her… though being confused for lovers had annoyed me more than once.

“Hey Arthur, you doing anything later?” asked Emilia as I nodded, thinking to my plans for later as I contemplated telling her them, or simply letting her leave it be… I decided to tell her, if only just to let her know that I wasn’t leaving her rudely or something like that.

“I’m going to go visit a friend in the art department, then I’m heading to a friend’s house to hang out.” I explained, waiting to see her reaction, noting her tilting her head in thought before she nodded at me… and then surprised me.

“Could I come with? I mean, you’re always saying how you visit these friends and I’ve never met them…” Just from the tone of her voice, I couldn’t refuse her request… I mean, how do you refuse that sad tone at the end? I was a jerk and sarcastic with most, and I honestly wouldn’t care about most around me, but if it was a friend, nah, I had to care… because other than one annoyance who I haven’t spoken to in years, all my friends were of the close kind, the kind who you could trust to watch your back… I felt lucky.

“Fine, though be warned that they all will probably make jokes at our expense.” I admitted to her making Emilia confused as I scratched my cheek… yeah, knowing them, they’d all make embarrassing jokes if at all possible, just to annoy me, and make her embarrassed.

“You’ll see when we get there.” I added, before focusing on my work, occasionally having to help out Emilia or possibly getting some advice from Emilia who might notice something I hadn’t seen on the diagram.

A whole hour and a half later, we left the classroom and left to the art department, where I messaged my artistic friend John that I was outside. Within moments John had appeared, in his full mini fuzz-afro and black man joke glory.

John was a… strange friend of mine, in that we were similar, and so we came to the other with the problems we had, a sort of psychiatrist relationship (a two way one occasionally), but it was good…

Though his humour always made me worried considering how often he would joke about races, good naturedly, but still, once in a while I’d wonder if I’d overstepped my boundaries, but John loved looking for the comedy in life, whether it be a funny occurrence or the race of another.

“Yo, Arthur… oh, who is this? Is this the Emilia I’ve heard about?” he asked looking at Emilia who smiled, sticking out her hand. “Indeed my name is Emilia, though I’m afraid I don’t know yours, Arthur doesn’t talk much about his friends to me.” She stated making John smile even as he took her hand.

“Arthur’s a private guy, he won’t mention others often, I only know because he works with you often so he mentions you along with his work… though he did neglect to say how beautiful you are, man he’s lucky to be in the engineering course.” John joked, making Emilia blush while I just shrugged.

“Emilia, this is John, he’s a friend of mine from high school and as you can guess, an artist. We actually talk a lot about books.” I said making Emilia look at John with a raised brow. “Really, you read a lot like this bibliophile here?” Emilia gestured to me as I scoffed… I wasn’t-okay I was bad, but at least I didn’t care too much about it, I just wanted the feeling of doing something which books gave me.

“Oh no, I don’t read as much as Arthur, I actually don’t think that’s possible. Let me explain, Arthur actually wants to write his own book, and he’d like me to make some images for him, and I sometimes help him with his ideas.” John explained as Emilia looked at me a bit surprised as I scratched my head (which had short wavy black hair, though I was cutting it soon) while I nodded.

“Yeah, he helps me out with ideas… but let us stop standing in the cold, John, don’t you still have a video game or two to play?” I joked as he nodded, and with that we went inside to just sit around, talk, and play video games…

“Don’t come back, I actually want to be able to win.” John mock scolded me as Emilia and I walked away while waving after that lovely session of a first person shooter (counter strike)… and a Fighting game, but John was really only good at games that didn’t involve a first person point of view.

“He seems like a nice friend, funny too.” Emilia told me (which, strangely, made me a bit happy) as we walked, before she looked at me (it’s annoying being a bit shorter than most, I mean, the only reason Emilia is my height is because she’s short for a Russian) and tilted her head.

“Oh yes, weren’t you going to another friend after this?” she asked as I nodded, thinking about the next place I was visiting (I was visiting a few friends due to December, and therefore, Christmas being soon.) as I turned to Emilia and nodded.

“Yeah, I’m going to go visit… well, he’s my best friend, we’re practically family… just don’t be surprised at how different we are…” I mumbled the last bit not caring whether or not Emilia actually heard… after all, Michael and I were in fact quite different. The only commonalities between us was that we were American, into Gaming, and had a fascination with weaponry we shouldn’t be using (for me it was more knives and such, for him it was the standard American standard, Guns)

“…so, your friend lives here?” I could understand Emilia’s apprehension… I mean, living in the Bronx, the bad side of it (Not my words, I actually didn’t care) she likely expected my friend to be covered in tattoo’s or something. Close, but not quite, was likely what she thought upon seeing Michael Grave opening the door, wearing a tank top and thus showing his one tattoo of a wolf on his arm, and his tallness.

It was a bit of a sore point for me, being shorter than the majority of my friends, but Michael and his cousin were the most note-worthy in the height department, both being roughly two metres tall each… made me wonder why Michael’s own sister, Alice (who waved from further inside) was only about 1.6 metres tall in comparison.

“Arthur, you finally showed up! We were just about to start the match without you.” He said but then he noticed the person on my side and his face changed to a polite neutral one as he nodded at Emilia while extending a hand.

“Ah, hello, my name’s Michael, and you are?” he asked as Emilia smiled at his reaction to her presence before shaking his hand.

“My name is Emilia, nice to meet you Michael.” She said as Michael nodded, accepting her after a cursory glance. “Alright, what are we all standing around for? Let’s go inside, coffee or tea?” Michael asked Emilia (he already knew that I take one coffee, five sugar (I have a sweet tooth) and only if I interrupt will it be tea) to which Emilia replied with the second option.

Once inside, I properly greeted both Alice and Matt Jacobson who was the cousin of Michael and Alice. Alice, as I mentioned, was kind of short, with a good figure for someone of her height, and long black hair, and we were pretty similar, though we treated each other as brother and sister (much like I treated Michael as a brother)

Matt, on the other hand, was even taller than even Michael, and he looked like he could replace James Franco in his earlier movies, though he looked decidedly more Mexican (even learnt Spanish for the sake of messing with people), and had a huge love for the ‘three joys of men’.

“The ‘three joys of men’?” asked Emilia as I, along with everyone else stared at her. Even Alice knew what this was… then again; she occasionally made us think she played for both sides… “The three joys of men… I thought you knew this?” I asked as she looked confused… this wouldn’t do.

“Well, it’s simple. Men, in general, like three things. Alcohol of just about any kind, fast cars or sports of any kind, they can both be liked or be interchanged, and the final joy, women.”

Emilia looked a bit incredulous (and a bit surprised when Michael and Alice nodded, both high fiving during the mention of the joys) but seemed to accept it. But it was pretty true. Sports or cars, alcohol, and women were pretty commonly the things men enjoyed. I in particular enjoyed fast cars (but I couldn’t say what kind of engine it was, or what transmission type it had, just that it was fast) and I have… experience, with alcohol.

Women were something I didn’t deal with often. I’ve only had two girlfriends in my life; one was very controlling and a bit too religious for my tastes. Hey, I love religion, but don’t expect me to love it as much as everyone else. As for my second, she moved to L.A when we finished high school.

Since then I haven’t dated anyone, and I was pretty comfortable with that… if anything I have learnt from that, it’s that I want to sort out my life before I try to add someone else’s to it. Michael understood what I meant, though with how many girls seem to like him, I don’t think he truly understood…

“So, ignoring those… joys, what match are you talking about?” Emilia asked as Michael passed me a PS3 controller. “Obviously Call of Duty, it’s been a while since we caused problems online.” Michael smirked as we nodded, and online we went… Emilia seemed to look at me with dead eyes as if, no, definitely wondering ‘why games again?’

It’s something we all enjoyed amongst my friends, though at least our lives weren’t ruled by it. When I was younger I didn’t go outside much (though I somehow maintained fitness… sometimes I’d wonder why I stayed fit though.) and played games due to not really knowing how to deal with children my age.

Even then, I thought they were all idiots, or childish, I was mature for my age so it made sense for me to search for friends older than myself. For instance, Michael was 20, Matt and John were both 21, though Alice, on the other hand, was younger than me at 17 (she was in her final year of High School though, she went to School a year early). And as for Emilia, she was turning 20 next year early February.

Anyway, we had begun our Call of Duty matches online, causing trouble as usual (we didn’t really play badly, though Alice occasionally acted as a newbie for no reason other than to annoy people on her team, instead, we were all pretty good, especially Michael as I had rarely won him in our matches)

During the courses of the matches we got Emilia to play a bit too, taking over Michaels spot when he went to make food, and while she seemed a bit confused, she eventually started playing pretty well (though I faintly heard her whispering something in what sounded like Russian with small smatterings of English, containing the words suicidal, idiotic, and unrealistic tactics… I figure she might be able to compete with Michael in gun knowledge… who knows?)

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

By four PM though, I had to leave to get done for family dinner, so with a few fist bumps (and a rare hug from Alice) Emilia and I both left, heading back to the College dormitories, and she seemed really happy about meeting with my friends.

“I had a lot of fun today Arthur, try bringing me along next time too.” She told me as I walked past the girl’s dorm, nodding before I left (strangely, Emilia gave me a hug as I left… doesn’t usually happen) for my dorm.

“Hey Arthur, someone was looking for you earlier.” Ah, someone from my drawing class… I was ashamed to say I couldn’t remember his name, I still don’t, but then again, other than Emilia and another guy named Derek who I discussed Mathematics with, I didn’t know most of their names.

“Someone was looking for me?” I was curious on who it could have been, I mean, my family knows not to bother me at College (I liked my space, and my quiet… despite my friendship with extremely loud people when partying (Namely Matt, occasionally John, and for all he acts ‘proper’, Michael)) I shrugged before continuing to my room, wondering who it could have been…

I was very disappointed upon seeing who it was. “Hey, Arthur, there you are! I was looking all over for you bro!” that person who looked like a pale vampire from Twilight was my elder brother, James. To say I disliked him was like saying water was a bit wet.

“James… what are you doing here?” I asked defensively, not really wanting to deal with him today. James was my ONLY elder sibling and he should have been the one I looked up to, taught me what not to do, and what was right.

Oh he taught me what not to do alright… by watching what he did, I learnt what NOT to do. He was a trouble maker; at an early age (12) he was already trying to steal small things like sweets from shops. My eight year old self knew that was wrong but didn’t stop him, knowing he’d be in trouble if he was caught.

From there it just got worse, with hanging with the wrong crowd and being spoilt by our family on my father’s side due to being smart (he actually was, in spite of his annoying illegal and wrong acts, he was smarter than me when it came to sciences at least, though I was more a language guy.)

By fifteen he was smoking, and I couldn’t accept my brother as a good person anymore. A year later, at age sixteen, he had dropped out of school, and was practically disowned. Two years later, he was kicked out. After that, I only saw him occasionally every year, noticeably during holidays…

But the main reason I had a problem with him, was this: “Hey, you don’t need to talk to me like that bro… come on, can’t an older brother visit his younger brother?” He couldn’t. He was a person obsessed with himself (and as sad as it is to admit it, I myself am like that, but in a different manner) and would only act in a way that would benefit him. This meant that he likely came to ask something. Probably-

“James, I don’t have any money for you.” I told him straight, making him frown for a moment. I had caught him out. He quickly switched back to a smile though, as if I hadn’t just seen him get irritated. “Hey I don’t always come to ask money, I mean, I just want to know whether or not my younger brother is doing alright for himself.” At this point I scoffed… no way.

“James, there is no way you would actually be concerned with whether or not I’m doing alright. Unlike you, I’m studying, I have a stable part-time job at a café and I’ve gotten a bursary from a weapons manufacturing company to work for them as either a tool crafter or armament fitter specializing in ballistics upon leaving college. I’m set for life if I get a house and such. As for you…” He was practically a criminal really… he also didn’t quite get what I said when I mentioned my job options.

He was visibly getting angry by now though, but he seemed to be trying to hold himself back. “Arthur, that actually hurt, I’m trying to get my stuff together you know.” I doubt that, he was twenty-three now. He’s been trying to get his stuff together since seventeen. I also know he failed because more than once I found an image of what I knew to be him on Crime Watch…

“James, I don’t trust you, and I don’t like you to be honest, and the only reason I even care that you exist is because we share blood, and that means something to me. You’re an embarrassment to me, and quite frankly, I won’t be helping you with money for your next fix, your next rent pay, or even paying back debt.” I was pretty good at reading facial expressions, a skill I got from being such a quiet and observant child (and having a psychologist for a father). It made it really easy to see which one of the three problems he had, namely debt.

“Please Arthur, you got to help me, I messed up big this time, I just need fifteen thousand, and I won’t bother you again… please, I’ve already asked everyone who could possibly help me, you’re the last one I can turn to!” he seemed worried but I might have been convinced had he not said a similar sentence more than once before. And besides-

“Have you spoken to Dad?” I asked, and he winced, going quiet. Just as I thought, he couldn’t talk back there. Our father couldn’t really be called strict in my opinion; he was very open about his views with us… If we did bad things (or did badly in something), we had to deal with it ourselves, even if we played hooky at school my father would leave it alone unless our marks dropped.

But, our father was also a very serious man. He had expectations, and if you were to fall short, he wouldn’t explode at you, he wouldn’t leave you alone either. He would just explain why he was disappointed, why you had let him down, and the very guilt made from his explanation would make you strive to make sure it never happened again.

I adapted to such a father well. I did my work, I behaved, I helped out, and I came out alright. James, on the other hand, was too spoilt and used to getting his own way (something which disturbed both my parents on more than one occasion, wondering where he got that habit) and my father was much more… let’s say hands on, with James.

Seeing those moments had ingrained a… dislike, for anything that could possibly cause my father to act like that towards me. So I became everything James wasn’t.

James was loud, outgoing, and always running around, trying to appeal to friends. Me? I became quiet, withdrawn, staying still for as long as possible (with my strangely enhanced brain activity this was a bit difficult, but it eventually worked… mostly) and having friends adjust to me, and if they were worth it, I’d adjust a bit to them.

“…Arthur… I need your help… I… I might not make it out of this one…” he seemed worried, but he seemed to know that he had already lost this argument. Had we been children, this might have become physical (and with his size, he would have won back then) but we weren’t children anymore.

That, and I was stronger than before, and he knew he couldn’t bully me into listening. So I simply walked past him, using the key and unlocking my dorm room, but not before turning to him, a few words he had to hear in mind as I spoke.

“James, you are a Clive. And while it might be a common surname, we have our own family motto, remember? ‘Live without regrets, or pay for your regrets’. I just hope that you pay back your regrets before it’s too late, and you disappear with them.” I said as I closed the door.

I honestly didn’t feel like leaving for the family anymore… but, it was tradition. The only reason James didn’t go was because he was banned from the house… that, and my father might get angry at him… at least, that’s how James saw it.

The truth is that my father was never really angry at him. Never, my father was heavy handed when it came to him, but it was never out of anger… it was out of disappointment. My father was a neurological doctor (with a minor in psychology) and I was looking out to be an engineer (whether I’d stop by mechanical or continue with more types was uncertain at this point) and my father truly expected more from my brother…

Guess that was a bit too much to ask though. I sighed one final time before picking up a jacket and keys, before heading outside and getting my bike, a Suzuki Hayabusa to be precise. I always thought of a certain ninja when hearing the name though.

Within twenty minutes (what with New York’s traffic) I was at my parents’ home, and by the time I had opened the gate I had been tackled by a tiny bundle of joy shouting my name. Said bundle of joy was my younger and only sister, Angelica, who also happened to be five years old.

Inside the house, I was met with my father and my mother, my father having a small smile upon seeing that I was there, and my mother was a bit more obvious with how she hugged me… I also blamed my mother for my height of barely 1.7 metres since she was roughly in the higher 1.5’s, but she was so kind I couldn’t really picture her angry, or get angry at her.

In my mother’s arms though, was my year old baby brother Denis, who looked admittedly different from me, seeing as he had my mother’s blonde hair and was a bit paler of complexion in comparison to me and Angelica (though he matched James)

“Arthur, cutting it a bit close, weren’t you? Come on, the food is just about done.” Nothing like a mother’s cooking, despite my taste for grilled meat (the one thing I was an expert chef in, despite my theoretical knowledge of cooking from watching cooking shows) my mother could make anything taste brilliantly.

“Thanks mom.” I smiled at her, something I rarely did, even amongst friends, but for family I’d be a bit more honest than normal. We sat down and ate, Angelica demonstrating lion roars and showing me how to eat (even though I knew how, and the roars were actually annoying), while Denis would occasionally draw attention to himself with his antics (one particularly worrisome one was ‘fake choking’ and he’d laugh and giggle at how everyone but Angelica jumped to help him)

“So son how’s college?” asked my father as I considered my answer. “I’m doing well, my drawing and science marks are high as ever, my mathematics jumped a bit, though my theory needs a bit of work… can’t seem to remember it when it isn’t all that interesting.” I admitted as my father chuckled knowingly, as he had long explained that it was something he did as well… talking to my father about things like this made me strangely tense though, and I always felt tired after.

“What about your friends? How are they doing?” my mother asked afterwards, always the socialite. “Well John is doing well, he’s still the top student in the art department, and I finally got him to make a cover of my book, though he hasn’t started yet, he has agreed.” I added as my parents nodded, knowing about my attempts at fiction and such… wasn’t quite good at science fiction to be exact, but fantasy was something I enjoyed a lot…

Though I did have this weird writing style which made no one seem to be a bad guy… oh there was conflict, and even though I may focus on a certain group, every group or person had reasons for why they were ‘bad’ or ‘good’ and the main character was only that because of circumstance or because it was from his viewpoint, not because he was ‘the chosen one’.

My book (that I finished, mostly…) in particular featured demigods and mythology, I named it Aegis after the ‘strongest shield’, and their main enemy were gods and prophets (a bit controversial, but isn’t everything these days?) I managed to write most of the first chapters in a way which made both groups seem… acceptable.

The demigods fought to protect humans from all supernatural forces, mostly gods, while the gods came to Earth to ensure they were not forgotten, something which is equivalent to death to Gods, and I also touch a little on the process of ‘becoming a god’ within the book, though only one character actually made the leap, though he was forced to. Another character was offered it, and refused.

My parents already read the first draft of it, though I hadn’t really ended it properly. “Oh, that’s good. And Michael and his family?” my father asked curiously, after all, Michael was my oldest friend, despite the fact I barely talked to him much anymore, thought that was because he was working a lot to save up money for a new house (I’m apparently invited over, along with Alice. I agreed on the condition he sound proof his room… never know with that one…)

“Michael’s doing good, still trying to get me to invest in shares and such, but considering his job that’s normal. Alice has already completed her finals and is waiting on her results, while Matt… well, he’s Matt.” That last bit was enough said.

Matt was overbearing, loud, and violent, but, a surprisingly good friend for someone with that kind of personality.

“That’s good to hear… oh, and college friends? Who’s that one you sit with so often, Emilia?” asked my mother as I nodded, a bit worried about where I expected this to go… it happened just about every time I visited after all, even when they hadn’t heard of Emilia.

“So, when are you going to start dating again? That last girl you dated, Mia? She was alright, a bit lazy for someone like you but she did show good work ethic when necessary. Can’t you just date Emilia?” my mom wanted grandchildren. And she wasn’t sure if she had any from James or not (probably not though), but she just liked having more in the family.

“No, Emilia and me date? Nah, she’s like a sister to me.” This is the reply I give whenever my mother asks about my relation with a girl. It had started with Alice and moved to Emilia overtime though. And it was quite annoying… considering I myself didn’t know how to feel about dating.

I mean, I’ve dated, but… I’ve never really been in love, I think. My first girlfriend was a surprise to me and I reacted wrongly (by wrongly I mean by accepting, that just wouldn’t work out) and as for Mia, I dated her because I was expected to honestly.

See, she invited me to a party (in her words, I’m so going to get you to go to a party) and we went out, drank a bit and I ended up asking her out. In our altered state of mind, we both agreed it was a great decision. After we got sober, we realized what happened, and decided to try anyway. It worked… but she had other plans, plans I wouldn’t fit into honestly… but we both knew it wouldn’t last, and accepted it.

After that, nothing, I wasn’t much for dating after that. “Mom, you know I want to finish my studies first. I want my own house, a proper job, maybe then I’ll get a girlfriend.” I was a bit uncomfortable with the topic, but was okay with that.

“So Arthur, are you still exercising?” asked my father, though I honestly expected my mother to ask, considering she was a specialist in sports and exercise medicine (SEM as I called it) as well as a psychiatrist. She apparently met my father while working on a joint project that involved Athletes and brainwaves… I nodded at his question, something my father seemed relieved about though I don’t know why.

“That’s good, any decline, any noticeable improvements?” my mother asked as I shrugged. “Not really, though my lung capacity has increased a bit apparently, which means I should be able to exercise for longer now, so it’s a good thing I don’t smoke.” Knowing my mother appreciated my use of technical terms (I could have studied English as a language, but refused, wanting it to be a hobby, not something I studied)

“That’s excellent…” we soon finished eating, the children having gotten tired while we ate (Angelica having gone to sleep early to go visit my grandmother on my mother’s side in the morning), as I stood near the window, watching the snow as my father stepped up behind me, holding a glass out for me, filled with whiskey (my favourite type of alcohol other than cider’s ironically) as I accepted, knowing that my father only gave me alcohol when he wished to talk a bit… I needed it to keep talking to him, talking to him made me tired and confused normally.

“Son… you know I’m proud of you, right?” he asked as I nodded, smiling a bit as I drank a sip, enjoying the cool burn down my throat as I sucked in a gulp of air upon swallowing, the air somehow enhancing the burn… I appreciated the extremely dull pain. The pain made me feel alive, instead of dead… which was how I felt most days, ambling from one place to another.

“Are you thinking about it again?” I already knew what my father was asking as I nodded… I still thought about my life a lot, and my father knew when I was thinking about it, as I apparently got a far off look when I got like that.

“Yeah… I don’t know Dad, I mean, I’m doing good for myself, and I’m pretty successful, but… I still feel a bit empty… as if I’m missing something. And I’ve felt like that for as long as I can remember.” It was a hollow feeling… it was rare that I honestly tried to pay attention to it, seeing as it always gave me a feeling of melancholy.

“Son, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Everyone goes through life searching for some meaning. Some find it in small things; others find it in bigger things. But the greatest of people are those who only find their meaning beyond the norm. You’re smart, honest, and dependable, and a brilliant friend and family member. I think you just need time to find your meaning.”

My dad had made this mistake before. It was a fault easily seen in my father… that he presumed to truly know me when he really didn’t, at least not this bit… might sound a bit dramatic and depressing, but it always seemed as if my whole life was a show for those around me… but who knows.

Maybe I’d get that hollow feeling away. But it wasn’t a meaning I was searching for. Mine was a simple one actually. I just wanted to be happy with my friends, and have a family.

What caused the hollow feeling, I don’t know… but I feel as if it might be filled by excitement. Before I could continue my thoughts, my father placed a hand on my shoulder. “Son… I…” he seemed at a loss for words, something I’ve rarely seen on my father’s face.

“I care, even though I may seem strict and harsh, I care… and I’m sorry for all the mistakes I’ve made while raising you. I’m just happy you came out alright after everything.” I smiled at that (even as I wondered what he meant by ‘everything’), before finishing my glass of whiskey and getting my coat and bike keys (luckily I had very little alcohol at all, it’s bad for a motorcyclist to drink and drive, worse than cars after all), saying goodbye to my parents who looked so happy for me, as I revved my bike and left for my dorm…

That was the last time I saw my parents alive. That was the last time I saw the giggling, smiling face of Denis. And it was the last time I visited that house with a happy feeling, or left it happy.

These days I wonder why I wanted that excitement, why I wanted my life to be… more, than it was… and these days, I regret wanting that, I regret it with the regret only known by one who has gotten what he wanted at a price too high…

And once in my dorm, with the door locked and lying on my bed about to sleep, this would be the last time I fell asleep a normal person… because from the day after, my trance like state of being would be disrupted. I would have to fight, I would have to learn, I would have to lead, I would have to survive, and most of all, I would have to win… after all… from the day after… from the first of December, in the year 2018, I, Arthur Clive, would be Hell-Bound.