When I was nine, a mark appeared on my body. My father, my mother, brother and our jester, had a symbol on their bodies. My father, a symbol representing a hand, my mother, a hand wrapped in musical notes; my brother symbol, interpreted by a Key in the palm. Our jester, at the time, Cookie, had hidden his. It was until my 16th birthday, hormones were kicking in, my body changed and I stared for uncomfortable hours at this clown.
That's right, I was in love with a clown, whose face was painted white, blue diamond shapes on his eyes. Lips painted black, nails kept neat and long. His skin was brown like mine, perhaps that's why I liked him.
My father, Honest Dubois, treated him terrible, particularly when he found us in a room together, lips locked. My father threw Jata into the cellar. He whipped him till blood drew, if I had know he thought of Jata like a slave, I would have never cried for his life. On my 20th birthday, Jata fixed the cake, he was ordered to but did it only because of his bond with me.
Now, my father wasn't always the fair man as his name claimed. I possessed no idea of the slaves he kept below our basement and Jata asked me to help; of course my dumb ass did. On my birthday, in front of me, the twenty five slaves kept in our basement attacked my father- stabbing and scalping him. They removed his brain, I was in shock and horror at what Jata had done to my family. "Don't come after me, if you do, I will without hesitation... kill you. I love you... this much", he had a gap between his forefinger and thumb finger that was fairly small. The one he left alive was me and my newborn baby brother, Mischa.
I looked out as our once loving home burned deep into the ground. All the memories, lost, because of me. I didn't keep Mischa with me.
I gave him away and he stayed with the Nikitins. His name was Mischa Nikitin from then on; no longer Dubois. I recall as I looked up the sky that started to turn red, The Sleeping Hero is the Key that can stop the Sleeping King from awakening.
Mischa, you have no idea of what's taking place. Your life is changing and I see you die not as a child... But a hero.