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makes_you_tickThe Gray family was always a little wrong. Okay, a lot wrong. My father, Samson Gray, was a murderer. He was afflicted with the 'gift' of knowing only a little, having only a little, and being aware of how much he was missing. He'd kill people for their abilities. When I was five, he sold me for cash to my aunt and uncle, then walked outside and murdered my mother. He used telekinesis, opening her head up like a ripe orange before he pushed her out of the car, leaving her in that dusty parking lot. It's the only time I can remember seeing my mother's face, that shocked expression...
My uncle had never wanted a child, so he left two weeks later. The old out-for-a-cigarette routine. He never came back. My aunt raised me as her own, never telling me the truth. I wonder sometimes if she always expected me to become a monster, like my dad. But she was still always there for me, up until the end.
All I'd ever really wanted when I was a kid was for my father-- my uncle-- to come back. I wanted a real family. I wanted him to be proud of me. I miss that hope, small as it was.
...thanks so very much, City.
My uncle had never wanted a child, so he left two weeks later. The old out-for-a-cigarette routine. He never came back. My aunt raised me as her own, never telling me the truth. I wonder sometimes if she always expected me to become a monster, like my dad. But she was still always there for me, up until the end.
All I'd ever really wanted when I was a kid was for my father-- my uncle-- to come back. I wanted a real family. I wanted him to be proud of me. I miss that hope, small as it was.
...thanks so very much, City.
