I'm dying.

Every day, closer and closer I get to death.

I know, I know. You may be thinking 'Doesn't that apply to everybody? Every living thing?' Yeah, it does. I'm a doctor, I should know, but that wasn't what I was referring to, no.

I'm sick.

It doesn't appear so, not on the outside, at least. But on the inside… On the inside, I'm dying. My organs are slowly shutting themselves down, one by one. It's also said to give hallucinations and things of the sort. None of my organs have fully shut down, yet. So far one of my kidneys isn't… fully operational. I'm still in the early ages of the 'disease'. It's unknown and runs in the family. It was supposed to have skipped me and my brother's generation, but it seems… I wasn't that lucky.

Of course, my younger brother doesn't have it, the lucky bastard, but my mother did. And my grandfather before her. They both died around age 40. The disease began to slowly take them over when they were around 35, so they both lived short lives. The time from when the disease began, to when it ended was approximately 3-5 years… I am 24… So I won't live to 30. And I accept that.

When my mother died, our dad couldn't handle it. He worshiped the ground she walked on, praised her every chance he could. He was head over heels in love with her… So every time he looked at my brother and I, he was reminded of her, and it hurt him. So he left.

Soon we were shipped off to an orphanage, me only being eight and my brother four. Soon, though, we were separated and taken to different homes.

At first, I hated it. I was abandoned by my own father and separated from the only blood related family I had left. What was even worse, I was brought to some idiotic Spanish household with a family full of stupid smiling aces. It was disgusting. Everywhere I turned, there was a nosy member of the overly happy family trying their best to make me stop crying. I rejected them, swore, screamed, thrashed. Eventually, Mama and Papa(As I now call them) decided to give me space and let me deal with this on my own… But their only son, Antonio, wouldn't let up.

He would constantly come into my room, begging for my attention, but like everyone else, I would, at least try, to reject him. He never gave up though, and sooner or later… He kind of grew on me. Of course, I had taken him about five years to earn my trust, but I must admit… they were some of the best years of my life. They made me feel more loved than I ever was, and I am eternally grateful towards Antonio. For never giving up on me.

Even to this day, after not having lived with him four about six years, we're still incredibly close friends… I owe him my life… but it's only worth a couple years now.

I haven't told anyone about my condition, and I don't plan too. My plan is, when things get really bad, to get into an accident of some sort. To die by something 'uncontrollable'. Then after the autopsy, they would find out, but as long as I'm not around to see their reactions, I'm content with my decision.

A/N: Sort of a little prologue

Heh, hope you enjoyed.

The real story will start in the nest Chapter, promise =w=