It happened again last night. I had "The Dream". The same dream I've had every year on my birthday for 14 years now. The dream where I killed the only person who made my life a bit brighter, Grandma or Auntie as she made me call her in public. She wasn't perfect, nobody's perfect, but she still new how to brighten my day even after my "father" ruined it. She was an alcoholic and she didn't give a damn either. She passed this "wonderful" gene to me and now I find myself passed out in bars once in awhile. I can't just have a casual drink no; I have to have the largest amount of liquor I can stomach. I'm getting off the subject here. Anyway, Grandma never hit me, EVER. She answered every question I had no matter how idiotic, immature, or personal. Sometimes if she was pissed she answered with a sarcastic comment that would make me laugh and she'd laugh. I guess I brightened her life too. She always knew she was going to die. She told me ever since I was 9 that it wasn't gonna be by natural causes; that someone would kill her. I never believed it. She was damn sure it would either be my "father" or me. Me? I never really thought she was telling the truth I mean she was a 49 year old alcoholic what the hell does she know? Being the person that I am I asked her one day what she meant by me killing her and she replied. "It won't be on purpose." That's all she ever said and believe me I've asked her a thousand times and she never explained anymore than that.

Then it happened and I understood what she meant.

It was my sixteenth birthday and she took me out for a double fudge sundae. She decided to share the sundae with me, which was out of the ordinary because she usually never shared anything. After that we went to an amusement park and spent what seemed like forever there all through out the day I sensed a tension in her but I didn't understand why until later. She dropped me off home because she had a headache and wanted to be alone. I went into the house for a while my "father" was out so I just wandered around the house. I got bored and worried about Grandma so I decided to visit her to see if she was all right. It was kinda late, about ten thirty at least. I knocked and she opened the door and smiled. I smiled back and she invited me in. I sat at the table while she made me tea. Funny thing about that night was that it was the only night in my 13 years of knowing her that I noticed she wore a red ribbon around her wrist.

"Grandma what's that ribbon on your wrist for?" I asked.

"Oh this? Well this ribbon is very important." She replied.

"How so?"

"This is the ribbon I'm gonna tie around the person who murders me."

"W-w-what?"

"I'm gonna tie this ribbon around the person who kills me child."

"Why are you just...?"

"Taking it so lightly?"

"Yeah."

 "Well I've been here for 49 years. I've seen what I wanted to see, been where I need to be and well my journey is pretty much over now."

"No. It's not it can't be." My eyes started to water.

"Now don't you dare cry. I've been telling you since you were 9 I was gonna be killed. This should be old news now."

"I love you."

"I love you too but everyone has to go someday and, well, my time is almost up."

 How could she be so cold?! That was the only thought I had before it happened.

First I started coughing, than I remember the blood stains on the table. She ran up the stairs and I blacked out. I woke up at dawn with blood all over me. On the ground was the body of some man he looked about 25 at the least. I got up and examined the body as I always do, just to see if he had any money on him. He was dead, so he didn't need it right? As I searched his pockets I felt something in the back of my shirt. I reached back and pulled out a red ribbon. She was right.

 I called her house when I got to the first pay phone. It rang about 5 times before the answer machine picked up.

"Hello you have reached the residents of Aoi Yagami. I can't get my lazy ass to the phone right now so leave a message will ya?" She was obviously very drunk when she recorded this message.

"Uh h-h-hi g-grandma this is, uh I-I-Iori and, umm I'm just calling t-t-to see if you're ok and, umm well I was hoping that you would pick up and t- tell me but I guess you're sleep n-n-now so, well I'll just visit and, umm make sure you're alright, o-o-ok?"

I used to stutter a lot when I was nervous until the day my "dad" beat the living shit out of me for not finishing a sentence fast enough. I ran to house and the door was open so me being the naïve 16 year old I thought "hey maybe she got drunk and left the door open again." She always did shit like that when she was drunk it was a "wonderful" habit that she passed on. I should have turned back around when I saw the blood on the stairs but being the "genius" I was, I thought "well maybe she has her period and is being sloppy because she's drunk." As my "dad" always said. "You must be the smartest person in the family" This was when I was 5 and spelled my name yroykj. Anyway, I notice the blood trail lead to her room so I opened the door slowly. There she was, grandma or sometimes auntie Aoi soaking in a pool of her own blood with the phone cord around her neck. So of course I did what any sane person who finds the only person who makes their life happier does and had a breakdown. I broke stuff, cried for about 5-6 hours, abused myself and then blamed my "daddy" and the bitch I call mom for even having me. After wrecking Aoi's house I called the police and went home.

My "wonderful, caring, and loving daddy" was home to pour five pounds of salt on my emotional wounds.

"So you killed the old bitch, huh?" said my "lovable father."

"I-i-t wasn't my fault" I replied."

Yeah son it was your fault as a matter for fact it will be your fault for the rest of your, short life." I love my "daddy"

"N-n-o. I-I-I."

 "Shut up son. You killed my mom and well, I guess I could forgive you but I don't feel like it."

"Daddy I."

 "Did I not just tell you to shut up? There is no way to explain what you did I mean, damn it Iori if you weren't such a baka we would all be happy!"

"..."

 "Now let's see what would be a special punishment for my "genius" of a son who savagely murdered my mother?"

"No I." He backhanded me. Isn't my "dad" the greatest? "I know exactly what to do!" So after a vicious beating that sent me to the hospital my "dad" apologized by saying, "Me and your mother raised a good one didn't we? A fucking mother killer. You bring joy and happiness to my life, oh and think of this beating as a late birthday present maybe now you'll think before you kill other people's moms." So that's why I hate birthdays. I hate all celebrations that have to do with birthdays and I rather bleed to death slow and painfully before I celebrate another birthday