D.N.S. presents
Genesis: Childhood lost
Part 1: Faded memories

Prologue:
  It's been a while now…I'm sorry I don't stop by more often. You know, some times I still wake up in the morning, and I think I'm back home. That your still there and nothing ever happened…that its just all a bad dream and I still have my whole child hood ahead of me. I'm sorry I haven't visited in a while. Its just, well, you know how I feel about cemeteries. And even now, as I sit before your alabaster structure and trace my fingers along the chiseled lettering, I still can't believe it, I still can't believe that your dead. I try to think of how this could be, how this happened. There are still pieces of the picture out of place, information left out. How could this be?! What happened that night, some thing I can't remember…I can't remember…I… can't…

Interlude:
    In childhood I believed in many things. I was still young, I still had my innocence. I believe in things like god, my parents, always respect your elders...I never knew for the life of me how the things I believed in could so easily be changed. They say you can never go home, I never realized how true that could be. It was a cold November night, certain events had taken place, making it no longer safe to stay at the Miami private school. Back then a private school was usually a place rich parents stuck their problem children so they wouldn't have to deal with them. So there I was, pent up with the bulimics, punks, alcoholics, and other disowned society outcasts. The children of broken, disfunctional families, who would have probably had normal lives, had their parents not been selfish, uncaring assholes of the social elite. Elite, what does that word mean any ways, the privileged few, The only privileges we had were those handed out to us by the head masters. If we were truly the privileged, would we be this miserable. The only ones who seemed to have the real lives were those of the poorer lower class. They were less wealthy than we were, but at least they had love in their lives, their parents didn't send them away or choose their life for them. They don't have to feel obligated to follow in the family business or have their financial line cut from them. To tell you the truth, I would have rather lived poor and happy than rich and miserable in "La escuela de inferna",  this damnable fortress called "Camtrax Academy", owned by a private invester.

 But all of that was finally over now, I was going back to my first school in Massachusetts. I waited by the curb just amidst the ruble that was our auditorium. I looked back upon the police restriction tape. I knew what I was leaving, and I was glad, though I had forgotten at present time what had gone on at that school, I do remember how emphatic I was. I knew I wanted out more than any thing, I didn't care how, I didn't even care if they would send me to another school, I just knew I had to get away. I remembered trying to get away before, they would always find me, and they would always send me back. The place was like hell, and there was no escape. Which is why I was so uneasy when my car pulled up to me, I kept thinking to my self "Was this it, was I finally free," a question that would not be answered till later that night. I loaded my belongings into the van then sat in the back with my brother. I was thirteen at the time and he was a little more than fifteen. I never considered him much, though he was my elder I considered him to be inferior.  I was far more intelligent than he, and held spite for him because he was able to stay home while I was always being sent away. I felt my parents loved him more than I because, though he was less disciplined he was not "special" as they called me. Further more, he was more their child than I could ever be.I would always over dramatise things like that. Though I had a 138 I.Q. I couldn't escape p.m.s., I wished for his death in the deep ceded darkness that my mind had now become. I had made no connotations about it, I let them know full well my spite and anger towards them. I told them of it consistently as they told me as well. My words were harsh and for good cause, so I thought. I remember turning to them and saying, "So…You couldn't stand to leave the favored one at home, you brought him to flaunt at me…to remind me how wretched I truly am." My father who was sitting in the front seat turned to me his eyes as fierce and hateful to match mine in return. "Your brother, young lady is only here because he wanted to see his sister." He retorted. "So it was his idea to flaunt, how precious, seen enough? Or shall I slit my wrist in tribute to your defeat upon me." I remarked. "Just sit down and shut up!" My father replied again. I slammed the door behind me and looked again at them sharply, my mother just sat to her self with a look of remorse upon her face. We were half way to the border of Florida before I began again. "I take it your going to be sending me away again?" I said in discontent. "Would you rather come home with us?" My father replied. "Not if your going to make me miserable for doing so, like you did before." I snapped. "You made your self miserable, not us." His voice began to raise in anger. "No! You were the one, always going on about how hard it is raising a "Freak" daughter!" I yelled back. "Your not a…" I cut him off before he could continue. "You thought…you both were always thinking, of how easy life was before me…I heard you! You said it should have been me! What happen to Richard…It should have been me!!!" I was screaming at this point. "Listen you little bitch! You have no right…" I cut him off again. "You said it was my fault…you said every thing was my fault!!! Well…Maybe it should have been me!!! Maybe I should have died…then you wouldn't have a freak daughter. Then you would have a normal life!!!" I screamed letting the tear roll down my face. The last tear I was said to have ever cried. "I never asked for a normal life but that's what you've always wanted…maybe if you get rid of me you can have it!!!" I continued with rage. He shifted into neutral and turned to look me in the eye. "Is that what you think?! Listen I never wanted a "Mutant" Daughter…!" Just then my brother cut in, he seemed panicked by some thing in the road ahead. "Dad!…DAD!!!" My mother looked on with a dread look in her eyes. It was too quick to scream and far too fast to turn. The car stumbled off the road into the roadside ditch. Taking an awkward turn the van tumbled and rolled over five times before landing upside down. I couldn't see a thing by the time my dad grabed the wheel, But I felt the car as it lunged over the embankment. Something seemed to fall over on top of me, covering me. The next thing I remember, I pushed the mass off of me. Thats when I had seen what it was covering me. I nearly lost it. It was my older brother.  He fell limp, lifeless. He was barely recognizable, his body riddled with debris. The metal and glass twisted into his body as a red crimson covered his lifeless body. Several of his bones were broken or exposed. I still felt his arm around me. His blood was still warm as if he were still alive. I prayed, half hoping he was alive, and half-hoping he was dead, sparing him the inconcevable pain he would be feeling if he was. I was to terrified, I couldn't even breathe, my tear mingled with his still warm blood upon my face. I turned to the front to see my parents fallen limp just as he. "No…" I breathed. I felt this great overwhelming fatigue, every thing began to fade to black. I struggled to stay awake, to no avail. Before I had fallen completely unconscious I felt a force lifting me from the demolished vehicle. My eyes were still fixated on the silhouette of my parents, as I faded completely out. I slowly woke again, this time about forty yards away from the wreckage. There was a horrid smell in the air like that of an object pulled from a sewer system, I felt myself propped up against some thing, a wall, but it seemed to be moving. Words, some one was talking, I could hear two bass voices, though I could not make out what they were saying, all I could hear was arguing I looked ahead to see were I had come from. The van was still mingled in a pile of wreckage. I focused in more to see my mother hanging upside down in her passenger's seat banging on the glass to break through. She looked as if she were yelling, screaming in terror. I heard one of the voices scream "No!" Then there was a gunshot. I saw the van burst into flames. I lunged forward screaming, my brain felt as if the blood was swirling around in my head. I felt arms clinch around my waste and shoulder before I fell again. The arm wrapped tighter around me holding me close with an unintentional strength behind them.  I faded out again as the arms held me intimately close I felt their hand rubbing gently against my forehead as the one holding me said again and again. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry."
   I woke again in a hospital bed. There were tubes and wires running through me. I felt awful, as if I had been sleeping for years. My body was stiff as a board, I felt sore all over and very tired and at the same time distorted. None of it would make sense to me until much later. When that time came, I was unprepared for the news I was about to hear, and of all the people in which to hear it from, but the head master of the Massachusetts private school. He and my other comrades from the school tried to help me piece together what had happened. I told them my half of the story, and then I noticed a disturbed, unsettling look upon my teacher's face. I asked in my naiveté of the situation, "What's the matter? What happened?! Where are they?!! Where are my parents?!!!" Barely able to look up at me he tried to explain. "Well, you see your parent…" He began. "Y-yes…" I urged him to go on. He turned up to look at me, and upon making eye contact he explained "Your parents didn't survive the accident…" I looked away in shock, choking back my tears with anger and repression. "I'm sorry." He concluded. "No…NO!!! I want to see them…I want to see my parents. I pulled out the IVs then yanked the wires out. I lunged out of my bed towards the door when the older boy Scott had grabbed me. I could see the stretchers, which I had thought to be theirs, I saw the bodies shrouded with the white sheets. "N-no, please let me go, I want to see them…" I cried. "There gone BraT, there gone…" I heard Scott's words ringing in my ears "Just let them go." Even today I hear them as well as though he were whispering in my ear right now.

Epilogue:
    Though I do believe their intentions were good. I still feel as though it would do me some justice to have seen their bodies for myself. I lost my memory later on that year. I still can't recall a good portion of my life before that. I beleive it was caused by a later tramatization that effected the others I was with that night as well. As it was, the bodies outside my door were not those of my family, what I hadn't found till later was that the same accident that had killed them had put me in a coma for 6 months. Their bodies had been long since buried. So I was told. As for their deaths, they were quick and painless. So now as I stand here today, I feel a presence watching over me. I never saw you die, and worse yet, I never had the chance to say good bye, or to apologize for the cruel words I said, the harsh things I did in the midst of my pain. And from that day forth, the day I cried my last tear, I lost a little part of my sanity as well.
End epilogue:

-A LiL'BraT Memoir