{Note: This will be told for the most part in 1st person through Matthew Vessalius and Leonardo Knightway's. However this first part with Vincent is in second so you kinda get a feel of what's going on, okay? Got it, good! Now let the story unfold~}

Chapter One: Only Three Days Left...

Vincent sat in his chair, flipping through another novel, he didn't want to do much that morning. Hell, he didn't want to do anything. The bitter cold winter that always fell over the sleepy Rosewood every year was making his chest ache. And it normally put him in an irritable mood. The least he could always mange was being a doting father on christmas for them. However, on the 26th every year after the accident Vincent became very irritable. So much so that his sons only tried making their father's day as enjoyable as possible.

"...Ah, I just want to sleep." Vincent groaned, sinking further down his chair.

There was a blanket draped over his legs, and soon Vincent was pulling it up to cover him completely. As he shifted slightly just to get a bit more comfortable something fell out of his pocket. With a soft thump it landed on the soft carpet. Another about Vincent was that he was a very neat man, which meant he really left a fallen object on the floor, even when he was tired and in bending over to see what had fallen something dawned him. Something that stifled the pain from his chest.

On the floor, lying face up, was his phone with the lock screen flashing the date and time. 9:30am. December 26 sat back after picking up his phone. 'How many years has it been? How old will that boy be today?'He wondered, flipping his phone around in his hands.

"My my, it seems like the games have once again, started. I do wonder what will happen in the end.."

Days Earlier:

Three days into my christmas break, and I had yet to do anything. No progress on my homework, and I haven't gotten a gift for my dad yet either. Honestly, sitting on my bed thinking about what needs to be done, and the fact that I haven't done anything makes me seem like an extreme procrastinator. Christmas wasn't here quite yet, so I clearly have time to get my dad something. But for some reason I was really starting to doubt that I would touch the book that I'm suppose to read during the Christmas Break.

Again, thinking things like this did help me understand why so many of my teachers kindia get irritated with me. I really couldn't help myself, though. It was a break, meaning I'd want to enjoy my time away from school! I glanced at the book lying on my desk, Frankenstein, ah the story about a scientist with crazy ambitions, the same ambitions that created the first zombie in the world. I sighed, I knew if my dad heard that he would reply with a dry laughter, that meant he didn't really appreciate my opinion on something, but he wasn't going say anything. He never really did say anything when I would say slightly insensitive, not unless it really gets underneath someone's skin.

That was probably one of my dad's few pet peeves, and it did help me talk to him about most things, but I still hide things. Like recently, I've started having weird dreams. It wasn't the first time I had these dreams, when I was younger suffered from the same thing. The thing is, when I was younger I only told my brother, Jack. Jack did what he could for which was reading bed time stories and letting me sleep with him when the nightmares became a bit more worse than usual. But I can't do that now, after all the day after Christmas I will be fifteen years old. I mean generally teenagers don't listen to bedtime stories.

I also doubted innocent children stories would help me, so staying silent was my best option. Granted this did mean that I would suffer in silence as well. I really didn't mind,but last nights nightmares almost changed my mind. It was...weird, and haunting as always, but it didn't leave my mind. Even when I sat up in bed, my nightmare clung to me like a second skin. Everything was hazy and surreal. The sunlight was dull and a little cold when it fell over my bed and I.I gave a small tug to my blanket in efforts of getting my brother to move a little, So far no amount of tugging was affecting him, or I wasn't really trying. The haze over my mind was making it difficult for me to really do anything, I felt...frozen.

"..Shadoe..." I whispered.

No response to me at all, was I even awake, or was I still dreaming? Just to see if I was really awake by pinching my arm, but I barely felt anything. Then I groggily felt around my nightstand with my hand when my hand felt the smooth surface of a pen. I grabbed it and lightly poked my leg with the point. That seemed to be enough to clear most of the odd feeling, it was enough to prevent me from actually driving the pen into my leg. Quickly I let go of the pen and slid out of bed.

My brother wasn't there, all that was left was a warm spot on the bed, he had gotten up recently. It was also a lot later than I had thought it was, originally I thought it was about eight in the morning, in truth it was about to be ten in the morning. I rubbed the back of neck as I looked around my room, and figured that I might as well get dressed, or go downstairs for breakfast. From behind me, I heard my door open, apparently someone thought it was weird that I wasn't at the table yet.

"Matthew, are you alright?" My dad said, his voice was covered with concern.

That was a loaded question, but I just turned around and smiled. I didn't want him to worry, not so close to christmas.

"Sorry, I was tired, so I decided to sleep in. Umm, when did Shadoe get sup? I didn't hear him leave?" I asked him, as least it was easy to change the subject.

"Really? Well, then again when he came down he did tell us that you were still asleep, but you seemed troubled. When you didn't come down after five minutes I started to worry, but if you're really fine..." He trailed off, something about the way he spoke made it seem like he didn't believe me.

I stood in silence, a little unsure of what to say I shrugged. The idea of telling him the truth about what I had dreaming about for the past two weeks didn't sound that grand.

"Like I said, dad, I was just...tired." I was being honest I was tired.

Looking into his emerald green eyes I could see the doubt. This doubt really wasn't enough to get me to speak, I mean I would talk about anything else. For instance, talking about what my mom had made for breakfast, is it something new? Or something she's made before. Then again, going down there to see for myself sounded fair more appealing than standing here talking about food.

"Ahh, all well, I'm going to take a quick shower and then eat. Okay?" I told my dad and turned my back to him. I had no really intention of letting him say anything in response. I needed to think about everything that had been happening, and sitting at a table chatting with everyone wouldn't help me.

Ah,I might re-write this chapter. To me it seemed pretty crappy, but I'm a little to cruel of critic. Anyways, the first chapter and I hope all of you enjoy.

The next chapter may be posted later in the month or next month. So until next time, keep reading and writing~