Introduction

It was the year 2015 and I didn't think I would be lonely, all my new year resolution cannot happen since my life changed drastically after my parents were killed by that thing. After the incident, I had to move to Alaska were my grandparents lived. Where I had to be interrogated by two cops about what happened in Los Angeles, my parents were killed by something that as far as I know was not human or at least I think it wasn't. The cops had asked what I remembered....

One red eye, grey metal covering its gray thick cables as it moved with its metallic legs pointing with a big machine gun from its side its two targets: James Winters and Lorena Louise while their son: Nathan Winters was hiding below his bed. What does that thing wanted from us? I don't know, but my dad seemed to know, because minutes before his dead. He defiantly glared at the thing with an accusing trembling voice as he crawled backwards were his back met the wooden wall of our house.

"You weren't programmed to do this!" And his voice died down with the bullet shot. His body felt limply next to my mother who screamed with fear.

My mother followed next, she glanced at me. Sadness and fear reflected in her eyes as she slowly muttered at me, fainted words which I hardly heard:

"Forgive us."

I stayed quite throughout the incident, I couldn't talk nor move. My body was unresponsive as if I lost the ability to move my limbs, it was a feeling that I didn't want to experience anymore. I just wanted to forget, but the trauma of watching helplessly the dead of your parents was overwhelming. A short suffering which will mark me forever. I stayed underneath the bed until the police arrived at the scene, when they found me they immediately asked if I had another member of my family that they could contact, that's when my grandparents stepped in. They flew from Alaska to Los Angeles, Bakersfield, they did what they could to calm me down, to at least try to forget. But it wasn't that easy.

There was no doubt that I would be living Alaska, in their two story wooden cabin, the last time I stayed in my grandparent's house was last christmas. Now, it was going to be my new house.

Even if it has passed three months after that day, I still had in my head my mother's last word. But what were its significance? There was something that's been left out, a puzzle which cannot be solved. My parent's dead was no coincidence and I knew there was something related, but what?

Times were hard, new school, new house, new life. I've been assigned a phycologist because the detective who worked on my case didn't believe me. I insulted him in return annoyed because he had no right to be like that, to act so incredulous. The detective come up with PTSD, now then, as much as I try to tell them that I was not lying they hold me in the contrary. So they assigned me a special phycologist in Alaska, her name was: Megan Hammer. She was nice but her niceness became too annoying for me to handle. Every time, when I arrived to the sessions. The first thing she does is to smile at me, offer me to sit and would ask me how was my week, then she would lecture me about grieving the dead of someone close to me, then she would tell me to relief my worries by telling her what I felt.

But as much as she tried, I just couldn't tell her what I felt. I didn't trust her with all of this, with my worries and issues. It was just not so simple.

Life with my grandparents was nothing compared as when I lived with my parents. These two persons whose DNA is flowing through my blood are probably the most strictest grandparent's I've ever known. They weren't so cold towards me when my dad was alive. Sure, sometimes they they were strict but only in situation that requires that behavior not everyday. I suppose it was because of all the expenses they had when I needed to move in with me, they had to pay my transfer. then the physiologist and now school. Both were retired and my grandmother suffers from the heart, grandpa decided to work as a cashier in the supermarket just so he could pay what it needed to be payed.

"Nathaniel, reasons are reasons." Grandma would say when I try to convince her to not take me to Dr. Megan Hammer. "And we already payed the session which was eighty dollars."

They would always mention how much they had spent on me, that left me asking to myself if that's how they treated my father when he was a kid. I don't know if they wanted me to feel bad because they had been ordered to take me to a specialist with PTSD.

"You could had save that money if I don't go."

It was not wise to respond like that, she gave the silent treatment and I had o "redeem" myself to pay the half of my sessions. My grandpa put me to help him in the supermarket. So I could do something "productive", every day after school I always go to the old super. It was no fun because it took half of my time to study, but my grandpa told me I had no choice.

I attend Juneau institute, it was located ten minutes away from town. It wasn't an amazing school like how schools are in movies, it wasn't that good either. The teachers were sometimes means sometimes nice, it all depends in their mood. The only friend I had was a girl named Rose Rodriguez, but it was only because I helped her in Math. She thought it was cool to hang out with me, I find her presence enjoyable since most kids here are annoying. but, I rarely talk so I don't know what she finds cool about me. I was considered an antisocial, but people are people and people are strange.

And that applies to my father: Leonard Winters. Supposedly, parents tells their kids where they work and what they are. The only thing I know from him was that he graduated from Harvard with a career in genetics and bioengineering and that he was a scientist. He was very secretive and would tell only his issues with my mother. He always left home early and I only saw him at night, so I hardly he had time for me

My mother was the opposite, she was nice and all but paranoid sometimes that someone might do us harm. But something did us harm and were merciless killed, I guess dad knew what that thing was because I saw some recognition in his eyes.

"You weren't programmed to do this!"

When the cops started to interrogate you, they always try to look for reports that made sense and I guess, in their perspective. Whatever what I was saying, it din't made sense to them, a metallic being that looked like a Cyclops entering a house shooting at my parents was misunderstood by science fiction and a lie that my brain made so I could not have a trauma.

In my perspective, they were stupid and incredulous.

The assassination of my parents had the entire news crazy. Reporter would arrive with their cameramen and a lot of photographs. Crazy women asking me stuff that probably a 13 year old kid was not prepared to answer. The only thing that passed over my brain was "My parents are dead" "my parents are dead..."

Something was up, and I believed it had to do with my father's job. There must be something related. And someone sent that thing to kill them, whatever the reason was. It still haunt me....