Chapter 1

I didn’t fall from grace. I was pushed. I was off balance at the edge of the precipice when I was pushed and over I went clutching tightly to that piece of red fabric even as I fell. I didn’t really have time to be scared. It was 88.eet to the tree line and another forty to the ground which was a 33-degree slope and 1200 feet down to the river. To be honest I was shocked. I expected a lot of things, but I never would’ve dreamt that they would try straight-up murder.

I hit the tree line and could feel the scrapes against my skin but couldn’t tell where they were on my body just random stabs and scratches of pain. I slammed into a limb and the air left me. My chest started to burn, and I knew I had to grab on. I tried to wrap my arm around the limb, but it snapped under the sudden weight hitting it. I grabbed at a couple more before giving up and shutting my eyes. I hit the ground and started to roll slamming into the trunk of the tree I’d just fallen through. Everything slipped away.

1 week prior:

As I passed through the hall, I overheard my father say, “He surely doesn’t think he’ll be allowed to participate.”

My mother spoke in a cold tone she reserved only for me, “He’ll be 18 in a month. We need to find an excuse to kick him out or the family will expect him ... and I won’t have anything to do with that murdering bastard. I certainly won’t be inviting him into the family.”

My father answered, “I know. It’s hard considering what he did, but the rest of the family is expecting it. So, whatever excuse you use to kick him out needs to be good.”

I was tempted to stay and listen, but it wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard before. So, I continued onto my room and found myself on my bed listening to music. I had a plan of course. I’d known about the family tradition for far longer than I should have and known I’d be excluded for even longer. Getting kicked out wasn’t something I expected, but it made sense. My immediate family had hated me since I was two years old. They’d never beaten me or anything like that, but they could care less about me and offered me nothing, but the bare minimum when there weren’t witnesses.

I grew up hearing venom spewed at me and being constantly reminded that I was useless, a murderer, and the worst mistake they’d ever made.

My name is Isaac and no, the irony isn’t lost on me. I’m sure you’re wondering how I could’ve murdered someone at two. What was my sin that caused my family to hate me so much? Well, I was a typical two-year-old and therefore incapable of uttering the phrase, “I consent to donating my bone marrow to my dying brother.”

I was created for a singular purpose. My brother had a form of leukemia, and I was created to save him. My parents aren’t exactly rich, but they went through IVF and had a doctor pick the embryos most likely to produce a match for him for implantation. I had to consent to the procedure though and that meant I had to be able to understand it and at two ... well, it was finger painting or Pokémon it was beyond my ability to comprehend. I didn’t grow up quick enough and so my family despised me.

We’re a family of five (effectively six.) My mother, Dianne and father, Henry had Stephen. Stephen died at eleven and his room was kept as a shrine to him. My mother still goes in there to pray to the fallen son. Their second child is my older brother, Michael. He’d likely have taken the spot as the family’s favorite if not for Selena. My sister was everyone’s favorite. Selena was 20 and Michael was 22 at this point. They both still lived at home as they pursued college degrees.

I’ve grown up separate from all of them. My parents’ ire towards me was mimicked by Michael, so he’s treated me like shit for as long as they have. Selena wasn’t much better, but she offered me some respite during quiet moments without the rest of the family.

My extended family was slightly better. My paternal grandparents echoed my family’s insults, but my maternal grandfather was different. He’d take me fishing or slip me some money to buy the things my siblings got, but I would never dream of asking for. The best was my aunt Julia was the one that kept me normal. She kept me from buying into the constant labeling of me as a murderer, a failure, and a useless lump that would never be worth anything. Whenever my family went for a vacation, I was shipped to Aunt Julia’s and a part of wished they’d never come back. She treated me with kindness and love, and she was my plan.

There was also a difference between public and private. If I showed up at a restaurant my family were eating at, they would have to let me join them, even if they grounded me later. I never had a birthday party or a cake, but until I was 10 if it fell on a school day I’d get a cupcake ... except when I was 9 and there were 49 people in the class, so I ended up the odd man out with a public promise of ‘making it up to me’ that even then I knew would never come.

It didn’t end there of course. My brother played football, basketball, and baseball. My sister had volleyball and three different art programs. I tried to sign up for the fencing team but was screamed at for twenty minutes for trying to waste their money, despite the equipment being provided by the school.

Being excluded from the family tradition I’d expected. I’d become aware two years ago when Selena become involved, and Julia had explained it to me to prevent me from calling the police after I’d caught glimpse of her betwixt my parents in their bed. I knew my family hated me enough for that, but I hadn’t expected being kicked out. I had a plan of sorts.