Chapter 1: Just a Phase

I hug the three year old tightly in my arms. Finding comfort with her in them. "Hey, Case, you really need to bring the brat too?" My eyes moved over to my older cousin, Luke.

"Yeah, I do need to bring her, dumbass," I tell him in a hush voice.

"Then can you at least tell me why? Having her around is such a joy kill..." Luke spoke bluntly, pointing at little Mara.

"Look, I-" I spare a few seconds to glance around my bedroom, "- I just want our parents to have fun without worrying. And you can't do that with this little troublemaker around," I explain to him in a whisper, playing with Mara's hands all the while, making her giggle.

"Wow. Such a good child." Luke rolls his eyes, clearly not believing my bullshit.

"Whatever. Let's just play," I begrudgingly murmur, picking up the controller. I press start before he could pick up his own controller, getting a head start.

"Hey! You dick!" I felt good when I won.

*****

As we walked to Luke's father's car, I overhear our parents talking to each other. It's about... me?

"Is Casey okay?" my Uncle James, asks.

"What do you mean?" My father inquires, concern lacing his tone. I don't even need to look in his direction to tell his brows are furrowing.

"Mm, well, he seems a bit more... reclusive. And rude, especially towards the two of you. I wouldn't let that go if it was MY kid."

"Ah, it's just a phase. He's at that age, you know? He'll learn to appreciate his parents eventually," my mother interjects.

'Just a phase?' Nobody would believe how angry that makes me. Is it strange that I want to hurt my own mother? Strangle her until she never spews another word out of her mouth? All she ever said were lies, so at the very least, it'd be a welcomed change. The conversation continued while I was in my own head, trying to sort these bubbling emotions.

"Really? Luke's never been like that!" my Aunt Jess tells my mom. It seems all parents want to do is brag about their children. How nice.

"Seriously?" My mother's disbelief from her Sister-in-laws words is clear from her tone.

"Absolutely! Little Luke has always been such an angel!" Jess boasts.

I decide to stop listening at this point. I didn't want to make myself even more upset.

I sent my Cousin, Aunt, Uncle, off with a lazy wave as they drive out of the driveway. My mind still ruminating on the excuse my mother had gave them.

"Ha, just a phase, huh? Only if," I utter to myself, closing my door and hopping onto my bed.

I really needed some sleep.

*****

Upon waking up from my two hour nap, I head downstairs to get something to drink. Opening the fridge, I see a carton of orange juice.

It wasn't my favorite by any stretch of the word, but I needed all the extra vitamin D I could get. Considering I don't go outside all that often.

As I was gulping down the orange juice greedily, on the corner of my vision, I see my mother walking pass the kitchen. We both steal a glance at each other, before promptly looking away.

It was an unspoken rule in their household. If you don't talk to them, and they don't talk to you, just don't say anything. I quite like it this way, since I didn't have to hear whatever bullshit they wanted to speak about. Another rule was that you do not interrupt each other when "busy."

Papapa

Hearing the pitter patter of bare feet slapping against the smooth, wooden flooring, I stop drinking from the carton and wipe my mouth. Of course, there were some exceptions to this rule.

"Casey!" A blur slams into me, wrapping her arms around me. There is only one person it can be, Ashley, my little sister by ten months.

She ignored the rule and bothered me whenever possible. I don't know why she's so attached to ME of all people, but, I wouldn't lie. It's nice.

I ignore her, and begin drinking out of the carton again. I did it just to annoy her.

"Hey! Didn't I tell you to stop drinking from the carton?!" she chides me, as though she is my mother.

"And let you drink out of it yourself? You wish," I scoff.

"That's no fair!" she pouts. I won't fall for her crocodile tears, in this family, she's the worst liar of them all. But it's impossible for me to not love my sister.

*****

My eyes fly open as I shoot up. Sweat covers my face as I desperately breathe to calm my pounding heart. I throw my bedsheet off myself, the cool night air attacking my skin, causing goosebumps to pop up from my skin. It was made worse from all the sweat my body is covered in, making it feel especially cold and sticky.

"Shit... who was that?" I ask myself, trying to remember who I saw in that dream. It was hard, the more I try to recall that feeling and face, the more it slips from my grasps.

But dreams were like that. Vague and elusive, like trying to hold sand without being able to close my fist or bring my hand together, it always slips between the gaps in my fingers. And what's left is ultimately nothing of substance, just specks of unimportant sensations and images.

I look to my alarm clock.

3:56 A.M.

I smile mirthfully. 'Looks like I'm not getting any more sleep tonight.' Just what I need before school starts again Monday morning.

Turning on the lamp, I stand up and go to my desk. I take out a notebook from the small drawer, and a pencil, and begin sketching.

*****

I press the erasure of the pencil against my lower lip. I stare at the drawing I drew from my remaining spotty memories and feelings of the dream I had tonight.

It was a girl, around my age, covered with scratches, and a bit wound on her neck. Slit from one end to another, an expression of terror decorating her face.

'Her face is a bit vague... but once I see the person, I should remember. That's how it's happened before, so it shouldn't be any different,' I theorize.

Deciding to take a walk to clear my mind, I get up from my desk and stretch. Putting on a jacket, and slippers, I peer into Mara's room before heading out.

The three year old is sleeping peacefully. I smile and exit the house.

*****

I don't know how, but somehow, I end up at the old warehouse. I grimace.

This place had too many memories I'd like to forget. Let alone clear my head, this just made it fill with more noise.

'So much for calming myself,' I sigh.

Whatever. I need to prepare for school, since the sun is coming up, that means it's probably around five to six in the morning.

'I could make a few more sketches while at it,' I muse, looking forward to it. After all, school only starts at eight, I have plenty of time to draw.

*****

Flipping through my notebook, I appraise the different drawings I've made. Most were of photo realistic people. It's my preferred artstyle, I enjoy it, and it's useful.

I've had this notebook since I was seven, so the very first few drawings were terrible. But as the years passed, I grew better.

I shake my head, getting myself out of my reminiscing thoughts. Closing the notebook with a crisp, snap, I continue my trek to school.

The only unfortunate thing about photorealism is that people label me as a creep. Especially since I draw corpses. I rarely bother to correct people, as they'll think what they want to.

And... well, the truth about what I am is far worse. So isn't that far off.

This has naturally led to me having no friends. It's lonely, but probably for the better, all things considered.

I let out another sigh for what seems like the millionth time today. I really just want to go to sleep.

'But duty calls,' that brings a humorous smile to my face.