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Warren’s mother’s face twisted in disgust as he stepped out of his room. The withering woman’s dress danced around her legs as she took a step forward and slapped him. Here we go, thought Warren, already bored. What does this make? Six lectures for the day? If he wasn’t so patient, then that blow would have probably been the one to send him over the edge. Today was not his best day.

“What is that?” asked Blanca, her dark eyes moving across Warren’s face.

“What’s what?” he replied. Keeping his jaw tense, Warren stared down Blanca. If it wasn’t for that disease of yours, you wouldn’t be alive right now, his mind wandered.

Blanca’s hand went flying again. This impact was a bit harder. Careful, careful, thought Warren. You’ll break a bone again. “Smart assing me again, child? Who do you think you’re talking to? Go change and this time be presentable. Don’t make your old, sick mother bring out the whip.”

“My apologies, Mommy.” He returned to his room, all the while fighting the urge to laugh. No. Emotions kill. I won’t die yet. Warren caught sight of his appearance in the mirror. Resisting the urge to choke himself, he changed from a Slipknot band tee and jeans, to a silk tuxedo. Enough screwing around with mom for the night, he decided. The show’s just starting.

“One, two, three four. Two, two, three, four,” the girl mumbled to herself. Warren suppressed a sigh. He was stuck with another girl who believed his family would accept her. I’m only eighteen. Why do I know how to waltz? Better than this girl anyways. He casually looked down at his dance partner, a small girl with ruby hair and watery green eyes. Why should I be looking for her now? I’m still young.

And always will be…

The inscription burned Warren’s vision. Ever since the accident there had always been someone writing to him, warning him of the future. His eyes would blank and an ancient scroll would appear before him. And somebody would write messages to him. But, what scared Warren the most, was that they always came true. He couldn’t help but wonder what was causing it. I’m special? Am I cursed? Oh, I know. Delusional. The old hag usually isn’t right, but there’s a first time for everything, he considered.