Dear readers,

I have been a long time working on chapter six and decided to take a break. I owe it to my readers to post, and I honestly want to provide a great chapter six when it comes out. This chapter is a filler chapter, and I'll find a place when I get through to editing the book. I am actually going to dedicate this chapter, which has not been done before, and probably won't ever be done again. This chapter goes out to a girl that taught me that love strikes anyone at anytime and you never know when that it; that love hits peasants and kings alike, and sometimes both at the same time. My only hope is that she reads this; she will know; it's all about white houses.

Also, to my dear sister that is reading this, I am combining two separate events into one. If you want to know about this, ask me, you know I will explain it to you. Just know that this did actually happen to her; I have the scrubs from the incident.

About mid-summer, I was waiting for something to happen. When you spend most of your life making up a convincing facade, things tend to get boring, not having any real friends. I was blessed by my mother finally going into labor, meaning that I would have a baby sibling. I really didn't care much about it, but it was at least something to break the monotony. When she was driven away in the ambulance, I was forced to wait until Ed could come and get me. When he did, we were rushed to the hospital with him and waited in the waiting room for what seemed like eons.

Waiting was no longer new to me; I was used to having to fill my time. I picked up a magazine and pretended to read it while reliving the thrill of my latest kill. Being in the hospital only made it better; I let this one live in a way that he could survive if an ambulance find him in enough time, but would bleed to death out of his fingers long before he could actually figure out a way to dial without his digits. I had given up trying to be quiet. I used my age as a blanket; I knew I was safe if I left no forensics behind. I was having a perfect life fighting their plague and fulfilling my desires.

It was late at night, so the waiting room was empty. Very few people passed by and the hall light flickered a little. Looking outthe door I could read a sign on the opposite door. It said, "3124 Consultation Room." In the waiting room itself were vending machines; coke and some snacks.

After asking Ed for some change, I went to get a soda, and thanked the gods that it was only a coke machine; the employees had stocked it with diet Pepsi; I suppose it's the simple things in life. I inserted my change and took my drink. Popping it open was a task; the can opened, but the tab moved off to the side and refused to open. I ended up having to use a pen, but my effort was rewarded as I sipped the drink. Nothing says lovin' like diet pepsi and a quiet room. (Dunno why, but it seems appropriate to me.)

After sitting down in my seat, the world worked it's laws on me. Kind of like a patron in a restaurant that lights up a smoke to get the waiter to appear, so did the doctor appear when I opened my soda. What I thought was that I was going to have to get rid of the pepsi, but the doctor led us instead right across the hall to the consultation room. We were informed that my mother might not make it through; there were some complications due to birth. He said they were doing everything they could to save them both, but it didn't look good. He left us to our thoughts. Ed and Mike were weeping, but I just sat there. I suppose it was a blessing to me, but to them it was a shock. Having her gone would mean that she would never be able to hold my secret over my head and that I would be safe from that threat. I just acted the adult as I always have, consoling them and trying to treat the situation as if everything would get better, silently hoping that it never did.

During my wait, I began to feel the only thing I would never be able to explain in my entire life. I have always been able to explain everything else, but what happened there was beyond any of my reasoning. What I felt was anger, uncontrollable anger and anguish mixed together. I knew I had no reason to feel anything but happiness, or an emotion similar, but I felt anger. I eventually talked to a shrink about it, and they blamed it on high emotions. I agreed at the time, but I would eventually learn what it really was, in due course.

At the time I was saved by the doctor coming in. Evidently my mother had passed in childbirth, and the child was having troubles as well. This seemed to break me out of my spell, causing me to understand that the best event of my life had just occurred. I was finally free to enjoy the life I wanted to. Everything was good, at least for five minutes, but as I would tell people for the rest of my free life, nothing good ever lasts. An assistant came running through and said that by some miracle she managed to pull through. This shattered me; I thought I was free. After that, I remember almost nothing. Ed said he blamed my non-responsiveness on shock from almost losing my mother. She might have known the truth, but she was the only one. As if to rub it in, she gave me the scrubs from that occasion; a constant reminder that I still had one barrier sitting in the way of my free reign.

What came out of the night, however, was a miracle, in a cute little bundle. At first I was repulsed, unable to get near it; all it did was eat, cry, sleep and shit. I hated it. As it turns out though, I was not done being forced to grow up. It would turn out that the baby was soon to be my responsible. This drooling ball of slime was going to be mine to take care of and I had no choice in the matter. My responsibilities consisted of waking up at six every morning and taking care of the baby, making sure that he didn't wake anyone up. It wasn't complicated work; making faces actually turned out to be fun. Before long I was allowed to take him out of his crib and hold him. I did so every morning, holding him on my lap while I watched cartoons.

I soon learned everything I needed to take care of the child, well, everything but breastfeeding of course. My caretaking was tiring, but worth it. I was still able to do school work, but I was spending more and more time caring for the baby. As the days shortened and daylight started to wane, the baby was starting to have sleepless nights, something that had not occurred yet. The first night it happened, no one worried, considering it just a stage. After a few days though, I refused to let them keep him at home without getting him checked out. At the hospital, I actually received the worst news of my life. The doctors told me that he had severe brain damage due to complications at birth, and would likely never be able to walk or talk. After havinbg to cope with doctors taking away the best event of my life, I decided they would be wrong about this too and set to teach him to talk.

Spending even more time with him seemed impossible, but I managed. I constantly spoke to him, something I had never done before. I bought books from the store that made me angry to read due to simplicity, but I did it for his sake. I read everything from Dr. Seuss and almost lost my mind. Some of the works of Dr. Seuss were tougher to read just because of the combination of words. One might compare that feat to asking a native Mexican to pronounce irregularly.

Christmas rolled around and my dad sent me a talking robot, something I used for a while, but quickly bored of. All it did was shoot out a missile, and after shooting my mother too many times, I found out what comes at the end of, "If you do that one more time…"

I also received a book for B en, the baby, or Buck as we all called him. His name had been Ben since birth, but it wasn't until Christmas that I could actually refer to him as such. This actually proved to be an appropriate name due to the different meanings of the word Buck. To Ed and the rest, it was in reference to the hunter that he would one day become. To me it was in reference to the only value in my life. I had found myself overprotective of him, watching over him all the time, worried at every sniffle. It wasn't until March that I finally broke.

March 30th is my older brother's birthday, a date I will never forget. On that day, I received the best present. Coming home from school, I dropped my backpack off and ran in to see Buck. I put my hands over my face and asked, "Where's baby?" Instead of the usual giggles I heard something I remember as clear as the church bells that chimed the end of football practice. What he said was "day-day." It didn't take too much to know what he was trying to say. It was my name he was saying, and I could see the look of joy in his eyes; most likely a reflection of the look in my eyes. (Readers; you just got the name of your narrator for the first time. Haha… never thought about it much.) I was as shocked by this event as all the other events in my life put together. He just smiled and waited for me. I could only stare in disbelief.

It took my mother coming in to finally convince me that I needed to say something. She looked at me and said, "It's a baby… you've been taking care of him over a half a year now, are you dumb enough not to know that?" Aggrivated, I replied by covering my eyes and saying "Where's baby?" He replied the same as before, and the response on my mother's face was priceless, as if she had never seen anything so extraordinary in the world. Seizing my advantage, I told her to pick up her jaw or a cock… roach might climb in.

The whole family got their chance to see this, and it kind of made me feel like a traveling freak show. I put up with it though; I was feeling an emotion I had never felt before. I wasn't just protective of this child; I actually loved him. I loved him, an idea I still can't wrap my mind around. I always assumed I was never going to be able to love, but here I was finally with a life saving event. Rather than wait around for more to happen, I tried to teach him more. It didn't take me long to learn that he was like a parrot; he responded to motions and specific word commands, but I was just happy to know that he could do that.

Again though, all good things never last. In late July I woke up in the middle of the night in a sweat, everything on me feverish and chilly at the same time. I went into the kitchen hoping to get some meds and to check on the baby. What I saw when I walked into the Buck's room stopped my dead in my tracks; there was blood on his pillow around his head. He was breathing, but it was coming in short gasps. I immediately dialed 9-1-1 and woke up Ed. My mother was at work, so I knew I had to get this over with as quickly as possible if I was going to save him. Getting to the hospital, I was forced into the waiting room once again. Those that forget history are doomed to repeat it, and sometimes those that don't. The doctor pulled us back into that room and I felt the energy again, making my angry. The doc told me that Buck was going to pull through this. He said that he had fallen asleep in the wrong position and had broken his nose somehow. The energy in the room seemed to dim with my sigh of relief and I walked out thinking happy thoughts. While waiting for his return I thought over that time period. During my time with him, I had not once felt the urge to kill anyone. I figured that life was finally perfect, for the first time in my entire life. Sitting in the room, I found myself bored, staring at the ceiling, worried about what I would do if I actually ended up bored out of my mind. I was spared the answer of the question by the doctor coming in. He was shaking, causing me to get the feeling that he was going to lose complete control of himself. Knowing the drill, we followed him into the room. I thought at the time it was to ensure the safety of our conversation.

What happened still tears me apart. Rather than tell me about when we could take Buck home, he explained that sometimes the Lord works in mysterious way. It was then that I understood the feeling eminating from the room, and at the same time the misconception of ghosts. Rather than being left behind emotions of dead people, they are the highest emotions of someone alive in that room, where the emotion is so powerful that it leaves a permanent stain on the room, filtering into everyone's thoughts while they are in there. I screamed out in rage, not able to believe that the doctor would talk about "The Lord" as a way of telling my my brother was dead; my only love in my entire life. I struck out and attacked him, causing him to jump backwards. Ed was older and stronger than me and managed to hold me back. The Doctor called in for reinforcements and they injected me with sedatives. There was a calming effect on the physical part of my party but the emotions still raged on inside of me. I was slowly losing consciousness due to the meds, and the only thing I could think was that they had been wrong three times on their decisions; trouble does indeed come in three.

Readers, again, I know I leave off on things like this, but I hope it make you want to read more. I would be able to tell, but I truly can't tell if you guys don't leave reviews. I know people are reading them; Fairfield is on the brink of thinking I'm insane. (Who says I'm not?) Lol. Please review; it would make me happy; I could turn  into .