A/N I finally decided to write a story on Thrax's childhood. I'll also continue through "Almira's Story", showing his POV on meeting Almira. I don't own Thrax; he belongs to Warner Bros. I DO own his surname, his family, and other characters you don't recognize from Osmosis Jones.

LaMuerteRoja: Sure :D Go right ahead. BTW, are you on FanFiction? If so, send me a link to your profile or story when it's posted; I like reading stories where people use my characters.

thebigcrunchone9: Well, you're welcome :)

DNAngelFangirl: I hate when I have to wait to read a story I like.

Yeah, and trust me, it's not good :(

I've seen that vid :D I got into OJ in 2011. I saw Thrax in fanart on DA (and YouTube, I think) So I looked it up; I always look up movies I find interesting. After watching the movie and reading fanfics (I read OJ fanfics before watching the movie XP) I got into it.

Chapter 9

Thrax slowly opened his eyes, groaning at the bright light shining through the windows. He looked around, growing very confused, and even a little frightened, when he didn't recognize where he had been sleeping. Instead of in his comfy bed, he was on an unfamiliar loveseat. And he was wearing his sweater, sweatpants and boots as well.

His memory flooded back, and he remembered he had stayed the night at Riley's house. He remembered they drank the bottle of Insulin Shot, talked, kissed, and then some.

Thrax's eyes widened when he realized it was the next morning. "Crap!" He muttered, smacking himself on the forehead with the heel of his hand. "Dammit! Mom's gonna be pissed. An' Hamilton ain't gonna be pleased either." He could already feel his back stinging just thinking of the whip.

He swung his legs around so he was sitting in the loveseat. He yawned, stretched, and cracked his neck from side to side, causing several popping sounds. Sighing, Thrax quickly found his hypothalamus chain on the floor, looking like it had been kicked halfway under a nearby armchair. He grabbed it and wrapped it once around his right wrist. "Where's my coat?" He mumbled, searching for his coat.

"Morning, baby." Thrax looked up to see Riley leaning over the back of the loveseat, looking as pleased as ever. He saw she was wearing a thin nightgown. On top was his black trench coat. "Is this," She tapped the collar a couple of times. "What you're looking for?"

"Yes," Thrax nodded. "Give me it. I gotta go home."

"Don't you wanna stay a little longer, bébé?" She pouted.

Thrax scowled sternly. "Give. Me. My coat." He commanded slowly, beckoning with his fingers.

"Hmph." Riley huffed, shrugging off the coat and handing it to him.

"Thank you." He nodded, pulling it on. "Why did I stay the night?" He muttered to himself.

"I didn't hear you complaining."

"Mom will be."

"Well, see you at school." She kissed his cheek. He just nodded and left; she huffed again, crossing her arms. She looked like a spoiled child who didn't get the toy she wanted from the store.

Thrax decided to just walk home. School didn't start for another four hours, and it was only an hour's walk to his house, according to a map of the rat. As he walked, he pondered on Riley. Lately—especially after yesterday's killing test—she had been acting a little crazy. He expected her to; it was in a Rabies virus's nature. But she was also acting a little obsessed and possessive of Thrax. If she caught any female virus, germ or cell looking at him, she'd get defensive and tell them he was her boyfriend, and they should make goo-goo eyes at someone else.

Thrax sighed and brushed his dreadlocks back. He was starting to wonder if it was worth having Riley as a girlfriend. She was hot, and it was nice having her as a girlfriend, as it made other people—namely, Herman—jealous, but it tended to be embarrassing when she blew up at girls for even looking at Thrax.

"Maybe I should have a talk with her later." He decided as he was nearing his house. To his surprise, the door was hanging off of the top hinge, like someone broke it open. "Hamilton must've been real drunk." He decided. He still had a very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Carefully opening the door so it didn't fall, he stepped into the house. Right away, he smelled something that was familiar: virus blood. He followed the smell into the kitchen. What he saw made him jump.

The chairs were scattered about; some had broken-off legs. The table was upside down and had scratches in it. Broken glass bottles were scattered about. Hamilton was lying among the mess. But he wasn't asleep; his throat was slit and bleeding heavily and he had large bruises and scratches across his body. He was dead.

Thrax stared into Hamilton's dead, glassy eyes. He couldn't quite believe that Hamilton was dead. That meant he would never hurt Thrax again. A satisfied grin slowly spread on the young virus's lips. "Got what ya deserved, ol' man." He sneered, turning away. He wondered how Hamilton had been killed. Had Elaine had enough and slit his throat? Probably not; she wasn't the type. Did he do it himself? If so, how? Suicide? Drunkenness? However it happened, Thrax couldn't care less; all that mattered was Hamilton was dead.

"Mom, I'm home! I stayed at a friend's house." He stepped into the living room. To his shock, it was a similar scene. Chairs were overturned, and the couch was on its back. The coffee table was on its side, and had scratches similar to the kitchen table. It was filled with the smell of blood. And what was among the mess made Thrax nearly collapse. He grabbed the couch to keep from falling to his knees. His eyes widened, and he was nearly sick.

Elaine was lying across the coffee table. Her eyes and mouth were wide, as if she had been screaming when it happened. She had bleeding scratches and bruises across her body, and her throat had been slit as well. His mother had been killed as well.

Thrax was shaking like a leaf. He couldn't breathe; it felt as though his heart had stopped. "Mom!" He muttered, gasping for breath. "Oh my God!" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw partly-bloody footprints going down the hall. He gasped in horror. "Amelia!" Briefly forgetting his mother, he ran down the halls, throwing doors open, and praying his little sister had been spared. He cried out his sister's name until he came to the final room; her bedroom. He looked inside, and screamed in anguish and horror.

The furniture had been turned over, except for her bed. Amelia was lying in her bed; her expression matched Elaine's. She too had scratches and bruises across her body, but her throat wasn't slit. The unnatural angle of her neck indicated it had been broken.

When Thrax could scream no more, he staggered into the bedroom, staring at his sister's body with wide, tear-filled eyes. His legs were shaking so much; he fell to his knees beside her bed. "…Amy…" He whispered, not caring that tears were running freely down his face. He gingerly took Amelia's body and pulled it into his lap. He hugged her closely, laid his face into her shoulder, and sobbed. He felt like his heart had been frozen and smashed into little pieces. First his dad, and now his mother and little sister were gone. He hardly cared about Hamilton; he always hated him. But his true family was gone. And the feeling hurt badly.

When Thrax could cry no more, he lifted his head and rubbed his nose with his sleeve. The first thought that ran through his mind was, "Who did this?" Had Hamilton done it, and then killed himself. When he was pondering this, he noticed something on the wall over Amelia's dresser out of the corner of his eye. Looking at the wall, he saw a message had been written in blood; Red Death blood. It read,

"Red Death is a common cold compared to Ebola."

Ebola. Thrax's blood boiled with fury. "Ebola." He snarled. "Ed." He must have been so pissed that Thrax had beat him in the killing test, he exacted revenge on his former friend; by killing his family, and writing in their blood that Red Death was still inferior to Ebola.

Thrax began breathing heavily through clenched teeth. He laid Amelia's body on the floor and stood up shakily. He clenched his fists as his burner claw began glowing white. Roaring, he punched the bloodied wall as hard as he could. It left a dent, but it wasn't enough. He punched it again and again until the entire wall was falling apart.

Once that was done, he stood there, panting heavily. His claw slowly began to dim. He brushed his dreadlocks back and sighed heavily. He looked back at Amelia and quickly decided what to do. It was common that when a Red Death's family was murdered, their bodies were burned by any living relatives.

He crouched down and hugged Amelia one last time, and kissed her cheek. "Good-bye, Amelia." He lifted her up and laid her on her bed, closed her eyes, and crossed her hand on her chest. He laid her blanket over her and left the bedroom. He went back into the living room, retching slightly when he saw his mother. Recovering, he pushed the couch back onto its feet. He lifted Elaine's body and laid it on the couch. He closed her eyes, hugged her one last time, and kissed her cheek. "Good-bye, Mom…an' I'm sorry." He never got to apologize for yelling at her the previous day. "I love you, an' I love Amelia." He crossed her arms on her chest and stood back up.

On his way out of the house, he paused at Hamilton's body. He scowled down at it and said, "You don't deserve anything but Hell." He stomped on his step-father's face, smirking in satisfaction at the crunch when his foot broke Hamilton's nose.

He finally exited the house. He closed the door, and locked it with his burner claw, lighting it up as he did so. The flames spread from the lock across the house. He stepped back and watched the house light up in flames. In only ten minutes, it was completely ablaze. Looking at it one last time, he walked away, never looking back.

A/N Riley sure can be pouty, can't she?

Although it's only mentioned, she's turning into the crazy Rabies girl we knew in "The Enemy is Alive and Well"

This is the most intense and depressing chapter I've ever wrote :( I was trying my best to make it seem realistic; not only for the situation, but for Thrax. He's still young, and living with his family. So it hit him where it hurts.