Saturday, 8:00 o’clock, 4th of May, year 208 of the modern calendar.

The deafening ring of an alarm clock could be heard in the Streiff household.

A medium-wide, reddish (most likely from too much sunbathing) hand showed itself from inside a ball-like lump, which appeared to be a mashed quilt, settled comfortably on the bed. A bulky palm, clearly belonging to a man, delivered a soft slap on the “off” button of the clock.

It didn’t work.

Slight muttering of a drowsy person resonated from under the blanket.

-Ugh, this piece of junk! I’ll show you!

-Bang-

The hand, squeezed tight in a fist, collapsed over the small clock.

At last, the annoying ringing stopped.

After about five minutes of swirling in place, the pure white blanket moved aside and the figure of a young man, just recently turned 21 showed itself.

His name was Killian.

His curly auburn hair was ruffled up from the long sleep, which was ended not so long ago. Under his half-closed eyelids, as if two emeralds have been situated there, the morning light coming from the window reflected in a captivating green glow. His cheekbones, along with his sharp nose were extremely sunburnt. There was an easily noticeable and moderately big scar on his right cheekbone, which Killian had received about a month earlier, when he was working part-time at the construction site two blocks away. He had a dimple on his chin, which gave him a strong manly charm.

Killian was a tall and upstanding young man. He possessed strength, accumulated from all of the rough jobs, on which he was assigned until now. He didn’t have a permanent profession. He was employed at three places as a part-time worker. In the morning he worked as a carrier for a big market chain, in the afternoon he had a job in a brick factory and in the evening, from 9 to when they finish (they didn’t have a set hour) – as an assistant at a construction site. This tight schedule had left him with little to no free time. He wasn’t particularly muscular – in fact, he was relatively skinny. He seemed exhausted, even though he just woke up. He wanted to lay down and sleep carelessly for at least the next two days. His room was extremely messy. There were bottles of coke, beer, juice and many other drinks from at least two months ago on the floor. On the right of his bed there was a professionally carved wooden chair with a couple of shirts thrown over it. They were already used, but there wasn‘t anyone who could wash them. In the left corner of the room, there was a big shelf full with all kinds of books which had accumulated a thick layer of dust. The walls were painted in sky blue, although there were many white spots on them, which hinted that nobody payed attention to the plaster, and in general – to the aesthetics of the room.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

Killian finally decided to get up and made two big steps across the room so that he can get over the rubbish left on the floor – the bottles, a couple of scattered pants and shirts, half-read books, a phone, bags filled with random stuff, notebooks from his school years, an open bag of chips and a crusty slice of bread, which was missing a bite. He then opened the door to his room and entered the corridor on the second floor. In front of him was situated a run-down door, leading to the bathroom. As he was about to knock on it, the door opened and a little ten-year-old girl popped out of the bath. She had long, wavy, fiery red hair which rested on her shoulders. Killian always thought that if he tried to touch her hair, he would burn himself. Nevertheless, he couldn‘t help but stroke it. Her little face was very gentle. She had wide brown eyes and a small nose. Her blushing cheeks and broad smile made her very cute. He had noticed that every time she looked at him, she was smiling. That look could soften even the toughest man on earth. Her skin was as white as a snowflake. Maybe if you hug her too tight, she would melt in your grip. Her name was Catherine, for short – Cathie.

-Good morning, Cathie – said Killian and pat her on her blazing hair.

-Good morning, Kil – the girl replied and smiled even wider. – Breakfast is ready, Annie said we should go downstairs.

“Every morning I wake up with the thought of quitting my jobs, but as always, Cathy reminds me why I even started them in the first place” – he thought to himself as he went in the bathroom.

Killian is an intelligent and smart young man. On first glance, when you talk with him, you would think he was a lettered student in some prestigious university. And maybe he would be, if he wasn‘t in this situation. He knows a lot of stuff and could give advice to anyone about everything.

Sadly, after the incident two years ago, everything changed...