I didn’t sleep a lot last night, anxious about the morning.

I’ve never been to a funeral before. Even though my mom and brother died, we didn’t have a funeral. We just didn’t talk about it. I remember there used to be we, and now there is just an I as I take a shower.

It’s hard to take a shower with a cast on, but I don’t care. My arm will heal soon anyway.

I stare into the foggy mirror, towel around my waist, and I realize, I still haven’t cut my hair.

I can’t go to a funeral like this. It’s just not right.

I found the scissors inside the kitchen drawer, and I cut, snip snapping, right over the trash can.

My hair falls, and I stare into the bin, feeling like I belong in there as well.

I returned to the bathroom, impressed that I got the sides even, but I never checked the back and didn’t know until later that I looked worse than with my hair long.  After getting dressed, in a suit that didn’t feel right, and in shoes that were too tight, I again missed my dad.

I can’t do anything without him.

I can’t make food or pay the bills. I don’t know how to clean, either. I wish he was there how to teach me how to order a suit, and what to do in times like these.

Everyone else did it for me when I lived with Ibis.

I sit in the living room and stare at the sword. I feel him staring back, and I don’t like it. I don’t like them at all. I don’t want to keep them around.

This isn’t normal. Where did dad get these from?

The sword answered me.

Your mother gave it to him. She was a very strong and magnificent person.

“My mother is Amara Tirinius, and she is dead,” I say. “She is the only mother I have.”

The sword didn’t talk back, and I went back into my dad’s room, debating on if I should take him with me. Inside dad’s room is nice. It smells like him, and his stuff is still left around. Sometimes I like to hold his shirts, but I can’t anymore because they’re starting to smell like nothing instead of him.

I pick up his cologne and put it on, and I make sure to put it back in the same place I had got it from. I don’t think he’s dead sometimes, the way everything is still laid around his room. His clothes for the next day were folded on the dresser because he knew he would come back.

“He just went on a trip is all,” I say. “He’ll be back.”

I know it.

I sit on his bed and wonder what secrets my dad has hidden from me. Will he tell me when he returns?

I know he won’t so I stop lying to myself.

It’s time to grow up.

Since today is the day of the funeral, I finally go through the box behind the false panel. I’ve been avoiding it for so long. The box I stupidly opened. I knew there must be something else in there, something important if Infiniti was inside there as well.

Inside the box is a strange metal one. It’s blue and grey, with lots of ridges, and even though the heat is on in the house it feels really cold. I shake it and hear things inside. He must have taken everything inside the original box and put it in there.

Around and around, I turn it, but I can’t figure out how to open it. There’s a small hole on the top, and I’m confused as to what kind of device this is.

After a quick web search, I learned it's a Gene-ie-In-A-Box.

A stupid name for such an important thing.

It only opens up for those that are related to the person that closed it. The funnel is where you insert DNA of any kind, and Dad sealed the box with his own. I wonder why he would play such a cruel joke on me.

Was he telling me that I will never be his? The only person that could open it was Aegean, and he is dead. Forever five years old.

My alarm goes off, and I make the quick decision to bring my unwanted companions with me to the funeral. As I slide on the watch, it again pleads for me to go back. I ignore him.

Hypocrite.

I blink and arrive at the funeral.

I look quite ridiculous with a sword, but I don’t care. My arm is broken, and if anyone wants to try anything, the sword should scare them away. Everyone glared at me when I walked through, and I can’t tell if it was the sword or just my presence.

I sit in the very back, as the first funeral is held. It takes place over several days, and I decided to come on the first. Mayor Anderson gives a eulogy, and I fumble with my metal bracelet. He complains and says I should be nicer to friends. Invictus goes on about Fenton and keeps asking where he is and what he’s doing, and drones on and on and on. I want quiet, but at the same time, I miss the noise.

I want someone to talk to but I don’t want to hear them answer back. I want to die but wake up the next day, and none of these things are going to happen. That’s impossible, but for some reason, I’m sure it is since the impossible seems to be happening more frequently lately.

So I sit in the back, in this old metallic fold-out chair, and listen to Mayor Anderson talk about The October Massacre, and how proud she was of everyone while they conquered an enemy together.

When her eulogy is over, and the long rites given to various religions in the audience are over, I leave as fast as I can, towards the graves. I’ve seen Fenton and Auntie, and I don’t want them to see me.

I should call more often, but I don’t know what to say anymore.

I walk through the field of newly buried bodies and look at the grave left for my father. It is one of many without newly dug-up ground. There was nothing left, nothing to bury, yet for those they never found, they still left graves for them.

I didn’t cry.

I don’t do it that much anymore.

I ask my father why he would leave me a box I can never open, and he ignores me.

I ask him why he would lie to me for so long, and he ignores me.

I ask him about my egg donor, and again, he is silent.

“Why can’t you just lie again instead of ignoring me,” I ask him.

I know he isn’t but I don’t want to admit he’s gone.

He’s just on a trip, he’ll be back soon.

It starts to drizzle, and I run through the graveyard, and under one of the tents. From far away, I see my team huddled under one, and I’m scared. I can’t talk to them. What if they hate me too?

You should go to them, my friendly bracelet said. True friends are always together, no matter the weather!

I wish my spirit animal was an after-school special, just like Invictus happens to be. Everything to him is just so wonderful. I wonder if he is so happy because he was a blanket, and I consider that maybe their personalities and powers are related to the objects they’re all inside.

It must be. What other reason would they be inside them?

They all join in together, scolding me for leaving Fenton behind, and calling him less.

“I just need some time alone,” I tell my unwelcome guests inside my head.

You should tell him that instead of avoiding him, they all say.

I watch Fenton talk to the strange group of people, who all crowd around Santos’ grave. They’re disturbing. Silently they stare at each other and approach his grave. They walk together, as a singular unit.

Sometimes I think they aren’t breathing.

The watch tells me they aren’t, and again I’ve learned something I don’t need to know.

Fenton walks over, walking funny since he grew so tall so fast, and it makes me smile. He walks like a penguin, shifting side to side, his knees still feeling strange. Fenton stretches and rubs his back, and I now feel silly, standing by myself, under this blue tent so far away.

So I walk over, and I smile, believing Invictus’ words.

True friends are always together, no matter the weather!

“H-hello.”

Everyone is now quiet when I arrived. I’m afraid my other arm will break from just the pressure of silence, and my right-hand twitches, ready to pull the sword out of its scabbard, slung over my back. I can’t tell if it's sweat or rain on my forehead, and I wait for someone to speak.

It’s Ryle.

“You wanna see my leg,” he shouts.

“ What?”

Kyle is yelling at him, as Ryle leans onto him, and shows off his leg at a funeral. It’s the most realistic prosthetic I’ve seen, and the only way I can tell it’s fake is by the very thin line Ryle points out.

Kyle and Ryle argue about the right time and place, and I feel a little better.

Maybe nothing has changed. Maybe I can stay here, and everything will be okay.

“I’m glad you came,” Harmonia said. “We were all worried about you.”

“Yeah, we thought that maybe… something had happened…,” Fenton said.

I knew what they were trying to avoid saying. I’m not going to off myself. I’m tired of everyone thinking that. If I were, I wouldn’t tell anyone, and I definitely wouldn’t have decided to do it now.

“Other than my arm, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

They drop the subject, but I feel my head tingle as Fenton tries to crawl inside my mind. Instead of fruit, I think of blood. He needs to stop. Fenton’s lips curl in disgust, and the feeling goes away, as he knows he needs to stop.

The enemy is coming from behind, the sword tells me.

I turn to see Amy, and her hair is flitting back and forth like a snake. No one is scared except for me, and then I know what she’s doing. She’s messing with me.

“Why are you here,” she asks me. “I know that you helped her!”

“I’m here like everyone else….I miss everyone too.”

My face suddenly hurts, and my eyes water. In a few seconds, I realized she’s hit me.

Why do girls keep smacking me? Is there a sign on my head that says, SMACK ME?

Harmonia pulls her away, but Amy isn’t done. She wants to let me know how she feels. I’m tired. I’ve heard what people have said on TV, and I’ve heard whispers while I sat in the back row.

She’s not the only one who’s hurt. I hate her.

“You’re a liar,” Amy screams. “You dated her for two years! You never noticed anything! ”

“I didn’t!”

“That’s impossible! After two years with Mark, I could write a fucking book about him. ”

“I-”

“You took him from me! I know you did! You’re just like her! A monster!”

While she continues to scream, and people watch, I look for an escape. I see the old church at the back of the graveyard. I blink, and I’m at the entrance, away from Amy and her pain.

Now just mine.

I came just in time, and it started to rain harder, the strange shhaaaaah noise wavering around me.

I hate the smell of rain now.

That horrible night when everything happened, it was so hot, trapped inside there. The rain fell, bodies fell, and now I hate it all. I try not to think about it, and instead wander the old church.

Inside the main part, there are candles lit, and it’s empty. I have no idea what kind of religion this is. I think it has something to do with a man coming back from the dead, and I don’t want to be here anymore.

A loud crash of thunder makes me jump out of my seat, and I scream.

The many voices in my head tell me it’s okay, it's just thunder, relax buddy.

I sit back down. Everything is so scary now. I don’t know why. I can’t remember very well, so I think it might have to do with that. I try to calm down and hear the door to the church open.

I turn around and see myself.

What is going on here? Maybe these objects aren't cursed, and I’m just crazy.

A tall man with a mask, leather jacket, and dark tan stands next to Other Me. He looks uncomfortable. I don’t know if it's because Other Me and I look the same, or if it's because Other Me is wearing white at a funeral.

“Adonis,” said Other Me. “We found him.”

Other Me walked right up to the end of the pew where I sat, and stretched out his hand, grasping the air, pompous and demanding.

“Give me the sword,” he demanded. "You don’t understand what it is, and I need it”.

“…No…”

Other Me’s face twisted into that of complete and total fury.

Even though he was angry, he was somehow still pretty. Now that he was closer, I can see that there are some differences between us. His hair is longer, he’s shorter, and he has long eyelashes.

His eyes are green instead of blue like mine. He kind of looks like a girl.

His giant, white, fur coat sticks out, like a cat, puffing itself up, trying to look big to scare off attackers. He had white pants on, and fancy white shoes with gold designs.

He looks like a guy pretending to be rich. This guy can’t do anything to me. He’s so tiny. Maybe he’s a shapeshifter con artist.

“I don’t know you. You just showed up. This isn’t yours,” I tell him.

I try to leave, but I can’t. Other Me yells out “Sit down,” and pushes down on my broken arm. He knew where to hurt me, his small fingers gripping my shoulder.

Where did he learn how to do this?

“I don’t hurt cripples,” he said. “But you’re making me change my mind.”

The big one takes his hand off of my shoulder, tightening his leash, making sure his dog doesn’t bite someone else.

“Don’t hurt him. He is just doing what he thinks is best.”

Everything about this situation is strange. How does he know about the sword?

Harmonia bursts through the chapel, with a dripping umbrella in her hand. Her eyes go wide when she sees us. I pray that she can tell that I am being held captive by a tall man and his demon.

No, she doesn’t. She’s still an airhead.

“Ace, I didn’t know you had a sibling,” Harmonia exclaims.

She runs over to say hello to Other Me, extends her hand out, and he ignores her, still staring at me, and I worry about what kind of ability he has.

Is it the same as mine?

“I’m not his sibling,” said Other Me. “I’m Nero, and I’m here to collect my sword.”

“I’m sorry, who are you,” Harmonia asks. “That cannot possibly be your real name!”

Something seems strange about the look on her face. Like she just won some kind of contest, as she’s watching the both of us, her eyes flitting back and forth. Everything about her makes me feel uncomfortable.

She’s pretty.

Too pretty.

Up close I can see there are little hearts in her eyes, and she smells like fresh laundry. Her hair somehow shines in the dark church, and I don’t like it. I wonder if she’s like Candice, pretending to be something she’s not.

“Does it matter,” Nero asks. “You aren’t able to use the sword anyway! Only those of pure blood or pure soul can use the celestial objects”.

How does he know this? Who is this? Is this-

He grabs the sword out of my scabbard, and it lights up. Harmonia runs through the aisle, pushes him away, and she wraps her arms around me, protecting me from Nero.

If that even is his real name.

He breathes hard and fast, licking his lips as mumbling something to himself now that he has the sword. Nero’s hair lights up the room, giving him a demonic halo. His red hair, just like mine, is now flickering like a candle.

“Give it back,” I scream.

Nero stands up and looks at me, confused that I am still talking. He looks like I had done something to him when he was the one that stole my sword!

“No. You don’t even know this sword. It’s alive”, said Nero.

“I know. Like my watch.”

“This sword was made to exact revenge, and once you have it you cannot use it, or else it will engulf you in flames! What would a weak thing like you need this sword for?”

“Why can it only be used for revenge? That’s ridiculous!”

“The soul of the First King, Unas is alive within this sword. He killed the celestials after they consumed his daughter, and trapped their souls within various items. If you don’t even know this, why would you need the sword?”

“I know the story”, said Harmonia.

“You do,” I ask. “How?”

“They are fables from my home planet,” said Harmonia. “Stories to teach children that holding grudges only ends in sadness and emptiness.”

“Shut up,” Nero barks. “That’s not true, and-”

“When Unas defeats the Celestials and traps them in the blessed objects, he realizes that he is no better than them”, says Harmonia. “He and his wife, the witch Isolda, trap him inside the sword. The Celestials were immortal, and it was the only way for Unas to make sure that they couldn’t hurt anyone.”

Is this true Unas?

Yes, it is. You should let me go, now that you have finished your own revenge. I cannot help you any further. You have no use for me, and I need to help another victim of Prima’s lies.

“I will make sure to kill my enemies unlike Unas,” said Nero. “You better stay out of my way, bitch .”

Harmonia stood up and got out her wand.

“I swore to defend the weak with kindness from evil like you. The next time you return here will be your last.”

“Nero, we should go. We got what we came here for,” said Adonis. “There’s a funeral going on. We shouldn’t disturb them.”

I’m grateful that the big one controls the little one, but I suddenly feel cold without Unas. I can hear him, in the distance, saying that his brother can protect me, as he has to help another.

I shiver, no longer warm, his connection gone.

I start to think that maybe it was good he left. He told me had done his job, protecting me, but I don't need protection. I'm not a girl. With him gone it's one less thing to worry about it, but I'm starting to regret not fighting back.

“Ace let's go,” Harmonia whines. “We need to stop them! We can’t let him hurt people!”

“Let him have it! He won’t get very far. I’ve seen what happens to everyone who keeps it. He’ll be dead in a few months.”

I’ll never have to worry ever again. I know dad wants me to keep it, but I don’t want it. Next, I need to get rid of this watch.

The watch grumbles and groans, the bracelet asks If we’re still friends, and I whisper a quick yes.

Harmonia is adamant about us chasing him. She pulls on my good arm and tries to get me to stand.

“We can’t let him leave,” she said. “I know you think this is for the best, but those items are dangerous.”

“Why do you care so much, Harmonia? How do you know about all this anyway?”

She clicks her tongue and looks away. My gut feeling was right. She’s not a wonderful girl.

She’s another witch, here to get me.

Harmonia looks down at me through her nose, and for some reason, I think the soft pink glow of her skin is slowly turning red.

“Ace. I’m not going to tell you,” she says.

“But why-”

“There’s nothing you can do about it either, and if you haven’t figured out on your own yet why, then I guess that is more on you than it is on me.”

Why is her voice even different? Who is she?

I finally relax as she leaves the church, and I try not to shake. I was so afraid she was going to try and kill me like Candice, but that's not what she wants.

What does she want?

I sit in the dark church, wondering what else is a lie. Am I lie?

Of course, you are, you’re a born liar, the watch giggles.

How can I even trust myself?  Do I even know who I am?

You’re a good person, says the bracelet. I know it.

I can’t stay here. Everyone is pretending, and I can’t trust anyone ever again.

I blink, back into my dad’s apartment.

I sit with the box I can never open, and I finally cry.