I'm so sorry for this chapter. It is Macas' past story, which is really bad. I wish I didn't have to tell this part, but it is essential to the rest of the story.

(Ulrich P.O.V.)

I pace my room. What could Macas possibly have done to deserve that much pain? Was it his fault, or someone else's? I look at the clock, 8:23. Six minutes. Better head over there now. I walk out of my room to find who? Sissi. Of course.

"Ulrich dear, you should stay away from that new kid, he's trouble, I can tell."

"First off, I am not your 'Ulrich dear,' second, he happens to be one of my new best friends so lay off him."

"Hmf!" Sissi says as she walks down the hallway.

I walk down to Macas' room and knock on the door.

"Come in." He says.

I walk in, and it's hard to not figure out what his favorite color is. Red bedspread, red pillows, dark red curtain drawing the windows shut. He even has a red desk with a red computer case. I have to force myself to keep thinking about the task at hand.

"Hey Macas. I know I told you you needed to, but it's all up to you. I am not your mother, I cannot tell you what to do."

At the mention of the word mother, Tears fill Macas' eyes, threatening to spill at any moment.

"Oh god, what has happened to you Macas?" I ask, more to myself than to him.

"Come, sit down and I'll tell you." He says.

I walk over and sit on the bed next to him.

"Before I start, I want you to make a promise that you won't tell anyone what you hear tonight, okay? This is my story, I will tell the others when I am ready."

"Don't worry, I promise."

"Thank you. Where should I begin?"

"The beginning would be nice."

"I guess. Make yourself comfortable, I don't want to stop."

"I'm fine."

"I wish I could say the same… Okay. My father, Robert Keloly and my mother, Kathryne Helpro were married in a legal court of law in the United States nearly sixteen years ago. 5 months later, they had me. I think the only reason they got married was so that they could have a legal child. I was born in Washington state. I don't know what town. My father never told me. We moved away to California, then Colorado, than Florida. We never stayed in the same place for more than six months. Pretty soon I lived in England. We stayed there for about a year and a half. When we moved away, I was about three years old. I barely remember it, but it's where my first memories are. Playing in a crib. Playing tag with my little buddies. It was always about playing, I had not another care in the world. Then we moved to other less known countries. I can't remember any of them. Like before, never in the same place for more than six months. Then we moved back to America. We were in New York City for about a year." He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

"It was there that it happened. I was about nine at the time. My parents were always arguing about something. My mother didn't… she didn't like moving so much. She preferred to live in one place and raise a normal family. I came home one day from school and there was an ambulance at my house. My mother had an 'accident' with a gun. Apparently she had been looking at it, and it just 'went off.' She died before the ambulance even got there. I had two twin sisters, both younger than me. Kailynn had an 'accident' as well, she died later in the hospital."

I just stare as Macas continues to pour out his entire heart and soul to me.

I haven't even heard half of it…

Macas stops for a second, I wait for him to continue, and realize he is crying.

"Look, if you want to stop, I can wait. You've told me enough for tonight."

"No, I need to say the rest. I won't be able to get over it until I've done so."

"You've been through a lot. You can tell me the rest tomorrow." I say warmly.

"No, I need to do it now…"

"I understand. Go ahead."

"Thank you. After Kailynn and my mother died, my father was charged for their murder. He was sentenced for just six years of prison. My father brutally killed my mother and sister, he should die for that!" Macas suddenly was yelling.

"Calm down Macas. No amount of yelling will put your father back behind bars." I say, putting a reassuring arm around him.

He flinches in pain, and I withdraw my arm, realizing my mistake.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. Anyway, even before my father was behind bars, he was very… violent. He would give me a small amount of time to finish a large amount of chores, and if they weren't done by that time, he would hit me. That is how I learned to pack boxes so well. When the slightest delay, or lack of efficiency, or whatever would happen, he would hit me and kick me. After he was imprisoned, I went into foster care for about four years; along with my other sister, Karyssa. The social workers were usually fairly nice and put me and Karyssa together. Those years were the happiest of my life. Our foster parents showed us something we rarely saw, and never from our father. Love. Then it all crashed in around us.
My father was released early for good behavior, and we were put back into his custody. I was taken out of school so I could work. My father needed all the money he could get to by booze and cigs. He was a completely legitimate businessman, when he had work, but he was a drug smuggler. Not himself no. He used me. No cop would ever stop a kid on the street and search him for drugs. He would make the deal, I would go and deliver. Plus, the beatings only got worse. He got drunk every day and came home and hit me for walking in front of him and things like that. See this scar? That's where he threw a knife at me. Luckily it only grazed my cheek instead of piercing my head. He said I tripped on the sidewalk on the way home from school. My sister only had worse. My father hated the fact that he had twin girls, and constantly hit her. My mother died trying to save my other sister from the wrath of my father, I just know it!
When I was thirteen, Karyssa was eleven, and she was showing signs of high intelligence. She passed every singe test at school with a 100, and was eventually even moved up a grade level. You think my father would be proud, but nope. He hated Karyssa and eventually proved it. A couple of months ago, she came home one say from school in tears. She had gotten two problems wrong out of one hundred on a test, giving her a 98. She was crushed. She was crying for a while, but I'm sure she would have calmed down. If she had the chance. My father saw her crying, and got mad, mad enough to do something horrible. He grabbed a butcher knife from the kitchen…

Macas was just about in tears now.

"And he used it to…"

Macas suddenly started crying again. Just a little bit, but the tears were definitely running down his face.

"It's okay, it's okay…" I say, wondering how painful it must be for Macas to be sharing this with me. He has been keeping this a secret all this time?

"He used a butcher knife to s-stab my sister in the head. Normally this would be instantly fatal, but she is still alive. My father stabbed her in the medically best place to stab her, and thanks to medical science and a lot of luck, she is alive. I managed to get her to the hospital quickly, and she went into immediate surgery. She survived, but she suffers from extreme memory loss, not remembering anything for more than twenty-four hours. She has no recollection of my mother, her friends, or even her father. Not where she is, who she is, or even why she is there. She only remembers me. Not what I've said in the past, or that I am her brother. She only remembers that I am someone who loves her and will take care of her. I worked with her every day, and got some progress. Slowly, she started to remember little things for more than a day. She knows my name and hers. I was so happy the day she said 'Macas, I am hungry.' I thought that through the years I could help her, and she would get back her old memories." He pauses for a moment.

"But once again my damn father ruins it all. He asked for a job transfer to here in France and sent me here, so he wouldn't have to take care of me. He ended up not coming, but sent me anyway. His work paid for it. My sister, she's all alone, all alone with my father…alone."

And with this Macas burst out crying, unable to hold anything back. I took him in my arms and let him cry. He must have cried for a good 15 minutes before he fell asleep from exhaustion. I gently laid him down in his bed and left, making sure to lock the door. I took a key with me, just in case I need it. I really hoped I wouldn't.

"Thank you Macas. You are the bravest person I know." I say as I leave.

I go back to my room. It's about 9:45. That was a long story.

All that he said… it made me and my problems seem so insignificant. I have a loving mother and father. I was born and raised in one country. The only problem I have is wondering whether some girl wanted to kiss some damn boy. He said he was sad he came here, because he left his sister alone to deal with his father. He had no room to care for what had happened to him, only for others.

Who is more courageous, the person who saves the world from evil? Or the person who successfully deals with the worst that life can throw at him, while not thinking even in the slightest about himself?

Again, i say sorry for this chapter, being so dark and horrible. All flames are accepted I nearly cried while writing this. Don't worry, the rest of the story is not so dark. It will lighten up considerably.

-Bighoggi14