About an hour later, the soldier re-entered the room. "Ecker, wake up." he instructed, sitting back in his seat. Shawn slowly raised his head, trying to focus himself again. "Oh...Hey." Shawn said lazily. "Where did I leave off?" he asked. "You just murdered a man and burned his house down. But how about you skip ahead a month?" The soldier asked. Shawn yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Gotcha boss."

So let's skip ahead a month. It was the middle of January. The snow wasn't as brutal as it was the month before, but it was still pretty bitter at times. With all the time me and Kurumi had spent together, we became more comfortable around each other. We became more like friends rather than a servant and his master. We began to trust each other. She told me that I was the first human she felt she could ever put faith in. There were even times where we would see each other more as a romantic interest. We would sometimes drop small hints in our conversations with each other. But I digress.

The hotel room we stayed in became our home. There was always the cost of staying in the room, but we managed. Every day or so, Kurumi would need to feed on a few people. Hell, even I killed a few of them for her. Those people were the source of our income. Not only would we take their money, but I developed a habit of taking their ID's as well. Everytime I got my hands on a new one, I would put it in one of the drawers in the nightstand next to my bed. Kurumi often gave me some of the extra money so I could get anything I needed, whether it was food, shampoo, clothes, even pot on some occasions. It was safe to say we were living pretty comfortably.

It was a bright winter's day; About 9:30 in the morning. We were relaxing in our hotel room. I was practicing my guitar while Kurumi was watching a show on the National Geographic channel. She suddenly turned to me. "Shawn." she called. "Hmm?" I looked at her. "What do you feel like doing today? I'm getting a little restless." she said. "I'm not sure. I could honestly just sit here and practice with Daydream all day." I told her. She giggled. "You named your guitar?" she asked. "Yup!" I smiled.

An awkward silence fell on us again as we went back to doing what we were. After a couple minutes, she finally broke the silence. "It's funny. We've spent a month together, yet I don't remember you telling me much about yourself." Her statement caught me pretty off guard. I stopped playing my guitar and looked at her. "Huh?" "I don't know. What's your favorite color? Favorite type of music? Tell me something about your family! Anything!" she exclaimed.

Anything but my family.

I smiled. "How about we go back and forth then? You tell me your favorite color, I'll tell you mine. And so forth." I said. "What's your favorite color?" I asked. "Red." she answered.

Of course.

"And what's yours?"

"Blue. What kind of music do you prefer?" I asked.

"I can't say I have a favored genre, but I will say I do enjoy listening to what First Astronomical Velocity has to offer. And I'd hate to admit it, but Miku Izayoi has a wonderful singing voice. What about you?" she asked.

"I'll listen to anything besides Pop. But for a favorite genre, I'd have to say Metal."

"See! I'm so glad we're learning more about each other, Shawn! I've told you how I came to be. It's only fair you tell me about you and your family." she said.

Please. Anything but them.

"Oh, you don't really want to hear about them.." I tried to play off, giving a slight forced laugh. "But I do! Please tell me about you and your family, Shawn." She practically begged. Fine, fuck it.

"For as long as my family has lived, we've been in New Jersey our entire lives. I was born in Woodstown and lived there for about five years. After my first younger brother was born there, we ended up moving to Vineland. After moving, my mother gave birth to my youngest brother. We've lived in Vineland ever since..."

I paused, not wanting to continue. "Please, keep going." she said. I couldn't bring myself to deny her.

"By the time I was twenty, I was trying to get my writing career started. At first, I'd like to say I did pretty well as a young writer. I mean, with the love and support of my family, I felt like I could take on the world.."

I paused again. It felt like I had to swallow my heart, like it was stuck in my throat. My face was heating up, and I knew it wouldn't take me long to break. But she couldn't sense what I was feeling. I couldn't blame her either. Throughout my entire life, I was always guarding myself.

"Aww! Keep going! Your family sounds so lovely." she exclaimed innocently. I took a deep breath.

"Around the time of my writing career, my grandparents left the States to live in England. They said they wanted to experience the exquisite culture that only the English could provide. As for my Aunt and Uncle, I never met them. My mother told me she was never on good terms with her sister.."

I paused again, trying to keep my breathing steady. I moved the guitar aside and sat at the edge of my bed. I didn't want to make the guitar get all messy. "Shawn?" she asked, concerned.

"..Well one day, my mother sent me out on some errands. I had to pick up a few things from some stores. But as I was shopping, the Spacequake alarm went off. Naturally, the store put itself on lockdown to brace for the impact. Everyone inside sat down and comforted each other. I, on the other hand, fought tooth and nail to escape back to my family. It took three guys to hold me down. By the time I had gotten back to my house... There was nothing left of them to bury.. They were completely obliterated.."

Kurumi held a hand over her mouth, actually shocked at what I was saying. I couldn't hold it in anymore. It felt as though my very soul was pouring through my eyes. I tried to continue anyway, whimpering between my words.

"I was given insurance money for both the destruction of the house and their deaths. With that money, I was forced to rent a home and live alone while trying to continue my writing. But without my family there to support me, I couldn't write for shit. I was a failure as a writer and eventually went bankrupt since my stories couldn't get published. Writing was the only thing I knew, so I had no chance at trying to maintain a different job. I was forced onto the streets and lived homeless for a year.

Until I met you."