Myocardium

Part 1

Like myself, they both had to grow up fast. 

Not by choice, of course. 

I was 14 when our parents died, when they were ripped out of our lives forever. 

The world is a dark, cold place – I learned that the hard way. 

Sasha was 6 when it happened, Daisy barely two. They were too young to understand what happened, I wasn't. From then on, I had to take care of all three of us.

For some time, we lived with a foster family, with our living standard set to the bare minimum. This was never a question of wealth though. On the contrary, these people had all the means to raise three children.

The only issue was that they despised us, never took care of us. Nowadays, I can think about this entire situation more rationally than back then, and I will gladly keep this period in mind as something that made us stronger as a team of three. After all, we stuck together through it all. The only thing I regret is that I was too young to shield them from all the stuff we had to go through. 

Trust me, if I could take all these bad memories and feelings off my siblings' shoulders and add them to my own pile of issues, I would do it in a heartbeat.

Anything. I would do anything for them to be happy. 

It didn't take long until we were out that house again. This time, however, my deadbeat aunt decided to get involved. That was, of course, only after hearing what sort of financial benefits the three orphans would come with. The only thing she had to do to secure the money they gave her for it was not use it on us. 

And she managed to do that pretty well, I'd say. This damn woman hasn't shown her cowardly fucking face since the very day the court granted her custody of us. Soon enough, we didn't have a roof over our head and were left with nowhere to go.

A year of living on and off the streets followed and while Sasha and Daisy went begging for money and food, I began working for a dealer I had gotten to know the year prior. It sickens me that we were at such a low point that I had no other choice than to make the decision of sending a toddler of only 4 years of age and a kid of 8 onto the streets alone to beg and make money. 

What I hate the most about is that it worked. 

For some godforsaken reason, it worked. Just have the kids smile and pretend to be all joyful and have fun and not a single soul in this foul, careless fucking city will bat an eye at this scene that should serve as a clear indicator that something is very off and that these homeless kids need help more than anything.

I was just a young boy, much too young to be doing big boy businesses. In return for the drug jobs I got involved with, my dealer let us live in one of his trailers for a while, until he eventually deemed me "old enough" to help him out in other, unspeakable ways too. 

That was, until I had enough money to pay for a small, cheap flat. 

We had nothing.

The government didn't care about us, neither did our family or their friends. 

Fucking hypocrites!

Our parents were hated and left three kids alone in the streets of Nevada. For the following year, working two jobs consecutively and skipping school was barely enough to keep us alive. There were times when I went days without eating just so I could keep my siblings fed. This part, I regret it not even a single bit.

Eventually, my dealer offered me a better job, a better life. 

He declared himself willing to pay our bills so I could get back to school. All I needed to do was work from 9 to 5 at night-time. It sounded great at the time. My only way out. That one silver lining I clutched tightly to my chest like a diamond, as to never let it go.