I thank all of you for your reviews:) I'm sorry that the guest seems to get bored with the story, because everything seems to happen over and over again. And I want to explain it a bit: This is gonna be a story that includes different sides of the human soul and the way certain things effect people all their life. And things just have to be repeated to get the characters deeper in whatever the outcome might be. (I know it though, *g*)

But of course I can't tell you the whole plot or it would become useless to update or read the story any further. I always liked Stephen King books because the horror was built up slowly and I also like psychological thrillers. I'm not a big fan of stories that make you feel like your running a marathon. And if you think the story is worth it, than please be patient and I promise you won't regret it in the end.

Ah and there was the comment that made me smile, well more a question... No, I'm not a psychologist. But I wanted to study it since I was 13 or 14. Well, the unpleasant situation I grew up with didn't let me have a chance to do so, but I read and saw all I got about it and many people that know me see that I have a very sensitive radar - I know a lot about people that I never talked to or that I talked to a few sentences. It never failed me and even though it hurt me a lot, when I was younger, because I wanted to be liked somehow and always knew when I wasn't and people were just acting friendly, it now keeps me from being hurt. So you see, there's a lot of myself in this story, but as I said before. Things are not always what they seem to be, are they?:)

The sick woman. Once his mother. Reaching out for him, while he tries to get away. His fathers strong hands that push him in her arms. Then the coughing and the blood. Blood on her face. Blood on her hands. Blood on his hands from her. Vomit on the floor. The darkness that surrounds him. The blood on his hands from his head. The screams because he's terrified, because his bleeding, because his father left the room, because his mother is dying, because his mother has become that scaring woman, because he was alone, alone with her, alone with his fear.

When he will leave the room after twenty minutes of screaming, his father won't be in the house anymore. His brother will not be home, yet. His father will not come back, not until they are grown men. He will have left them. Two young boys with their dying mother will be on their own. And it will be his fault, because he has vomited and passed out like a girl. His father has always said, he wasn't a boy, too skinny and too useless. It will be his fault, that his brother will have to struggle so very hard to study and to make a good life for both of them. It will be his fault, when their mother is going to die a while after this day. Her father has told him that it had been his fault she got sick, because he caused her trouble all the time.

His brother will be angry at their father, not knowing that it was his fault the man had left. His brother will be sad, when their mother dies, never saying anything about the fact that it was his fault she got sick in the first place. His brother will be around – always. But other than him, he will never be completely with brother. His parents will have taken his pride, his self-confidence, his own dreams, most of his will to live for himself and the sanctity of his body, they will have taken his childhood. And even though he'll know it was his own fault, he'll feel the need to distinguish himself over and over and never reach the satisfaction to let it go, the need to get dressed in a way that gets peoples attention or act like a clown around them to make them laugh or buy gifts for other kids in school or the foster home they will stay only to make them like him, he will always be afraid to dare to dream or realize them because he'll know that he won't be good enough for anything, he'll live with the daily thought that he isn't worth living but trying every day to help his brother, he'll never learn to make decisions for his own body and so giving in whenever someone wants to abuse it - mostly without the abuser even knowing of the abuse that they do to him and his soul when all they want is to make him feel good doing those things that everybody does, he'll never like children because he never had the chance to be one himself. All of those feelings will be locked inside him for the rest of his life, always looking for love. There will always be the aching need of salvation.

The images change and he is know in his room and three people keep torturing him, and he can see his face as the alcohol is poured down his throat, he can see himself taking a pill that so much looks like a pill you'd expect in clubs, he can see and actually feel the liquid that gets into his blood system through a tiny needle. And he cries softly in his dreams, because consciousness is coming back slowly and tells him that he's crazy, that there's no way someone makes him do this. He is an addict and a junkie. Just like his father. The rat that left his family. Because of him. That makes him the master of the rat, he guesses and it makes him unworthy to be loved. If there had be anyone else doing this to him, his father would have heard them.

Evan woke up slowly, crying in pain and out of an unbearable sadness. He realized something hard in his hand. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw that he's lying on the bed and had an empty bottle in his arms. Holding on to it like it could save him

from drowning in his sadness, well it probably could and if only for a few hours. He's still tired and closed his eyes again. Slowly drifting back to sleep, but fighting it, because he's scared to go back to those dark places.

The door opened as the darkness took over. But Evan didn't wake up, being more unconscious than asleep. Hank came in to see how he was doing. He saw the bottle in his brothers hands, saw it was empty. His first reaction would have been yelling at him, but he didn't. He was angry, but more than anything else he was worried about his younger brother. At least it's only one bottle this time. That's a progress, huh? Yeah, a sad one though.

He carefully took the bottle away from his brother. Evan stirred for a moment, but didn't wake. Hank sat awhile on the bed with him, listening to his unhealthy breathing, making sure he was as okay as he could be under the given circumstances. His fingers wandered through his brothers hair. He looks so broken, even when he's sleeping. I hope he gets better soon. Where the hell did he find the alcohol? I looked through everything in his room and in the rest of the house and put all the bottles in the car to have them away from him. Maybe I've overseen it, but...

Someone came in and he pushed his thoughts aside for now. "Is he alright, Hank?"

"No!"

"Yeah, I can tell considering the bottle in your hand. Empty, huh?"

"Actually, yes!"

"I kind of knew it all along. You are gone and all his good will to stop drinking is gone, too. Told you he is worse than me. He just put a show on for you. You trust the weak, Henry and trust will leak."

"What the hell are you talking about? Nice poem, Eddie." He pushed his father violently out of the room and back to the living room. Not willing to let Evan wake up to an argument like this. "Didn't I call you every hour after I had left?"

"You did."

"And didn't I ask you to go and see if he's okay?"

"Yeah and I did once in a while."

"Didn't you tell me that my brother, your son, was sleeping and all was just fine?"

"Yes and last time I checked on him he was doing great."

"When was that?"

Eddie didn't notice that Hank looked at the wall clock. Seeing it was after 8 p. m. "It wasn't that long ago, I don't know the time, but they had this show on tv at that time."

"Which one?"

"I don't know. About some rookies in a hospital or so. Didn't look at it."

"Scrubs."

"Yeah, I guess that was the show."

"The show runs at 3.30 p. m., Eddie and that makes it 4.5 hours since you checked on him! I thought you didn't look the show at all?!"

"I didn't. I was busy and forgot the time, I'm sorry, Henry."

"You were busy?! Doing what, Eddie?!"

"I needed to do some calls, because I have a few big things going on that will pay out with a nice amount of money. Business, you know?"

Hank has been near to explode since the conversation has started, but now his anger was beyond exploding and he could barely hold his fists down. The urge to knock his father out and beat him numb was strong, so he took all the energy out of his body and put it in his voice: "You're such an asshole! Are you telling me that money and business couldn't wait some time, or even worse that they mean more to you than your own son? You fucking bastard! Is there anything at all you care about? Other than money? Other than you?!"

"Of course. I care for my sons, for you and.."

"Shut up! Don't dare lying at me. You don't give a damn what's going on with your son! I asked you to do one thing for us and you failed! Oh, wait, I didn't ask you to do it, you offered to take care of him, didn't you? Don't even dare to open your mouth, spare me your dirty lies and excuses. Go! Now!"

Eddie didn't move. He seemed to be thinking for a moment and then smiled again. "I'm sorry, Hank, that I didn't look enough at him. He was asleep in his room, in the same house with me. I didn't think there was much that could happen. Well, I was wrong, son, but you've got to admit that it isn't my fault that he drank his lights out."

Hank stared at his father. He couldn't believe that big arrogant smile in the older man's face. He was so disgusted and felt like throwing up. The tension caused by anger filled his body and his hands formed to fists again. It happened before he realized he was moving closer to his father. His right fist went straight to his fathers plastic smile.

Eddie went down again. Struggling to get up again and then trying to smile again and reaching out for his oldest son. But Hank didn't care about his attempts. He stood there ready for the next blow, if Eddie didn't get the message the first time. His father saw it would make no sense to say anything now. He opened his mouth to tell his son goodbye, but as soon as his lips moved away from each other Hank yelled at him that he was sure the whole Hamptons could hear it: "Fuck you!"

The doctor was so furious, he had never felt this angry before. There was a look in his fathers eyes that he couldn't read right away. But when the man turned around and ran out of the house, Dr. Hank Lawson knew that he had seen fear in his fathers eyes. And this satisfaction made him grin. Well, mixed with the anger the grin made him look like some kind of mad man. But still, he felt much stronger and better now.

After staring at the door for a while he turned towards his brothers room and went to see if the yelling has waken Evan. He was glad to find his brother still asleep. He used the time to look all over the room. Not knowing what he was looking for, but sure there had to be something, if only more bottles. When he went down on his knees to look under the bed, he smelt some alcohol next to him. The floor was wet. Hm, Evan had the bottle in his arms. Why is the alcohol here? And why wasn't it on the bed or the floor next to it? He didn't know why, but those thoughts put a strange feeling in his gut. Something was just not right.

The second thing that seemed to be wrong was the notebook bag in the room without the notebook, because Hank knew it was on Evans desk. That was so not Evan. His younger brother was very careful with his stuff especially with everything that had to do with their business. Hank smiled about that fact. His brother could be so restless and hyperactive causing chaos around him, but he still managed to have his things in order. Like the eye of a hurricane. So it made the empty notebook bag even stranger.

Their was something else that caught his attention. A box beneath the bed. He pulled it closer. It was locked and the key wasn't there. Of course not! It wouldn't make any sense to lock something and then leaving the key, would it? But there was something written on top of the box. He smiled at his brothers nice sharp handwriting that said in big black letters: MY LIFE OR WHAT IT SEEMS TO BE

He wondered about the meaning of the words. He was sure that he knew the content of the box. His brothers diaries that he had written since he learned writing. Similar boxes were in a storage that Evan had rented in NY, when they had moved away. Still the last part of the words left him worrying a lot more. Or what it seems to be. What does that mean? My life or what it seems to be. That implies that he doesn't live the life he wants to or is he hiding things and puts on a show to please me? I have to find out. Henry Lawson! There is no way you're going to read his diaries. That's not right and it's so not going to happen! Shit! I'm sure there is some kind of hint why and how he got into this!