Misguided Truths

Prologue

There was a time when I used to consider myself to be a normal girl.  My parents were married and fought from time to time.  My little brother distanced himself from me when he discovered video games.  We had two cats and two dogs—one girl and one boy of each kind.  We were also all squeezed into a one-floor house with only one bathroom for the four of us to use. 

Times were tough, especially when my parents could never find stable, well-paying jobs.  They were hardly ever home, which left me to complete all of our household duties, including making dinner, taking care of my brother, caring for our pets, and countless more.

Don’t get me wrong.  It’s not like I enjoy doing all of the work by myself.  It’s not that I want to; it’s that I have to in order to keep my family functioning.  A lot of responsibilities are thrust onto my shoulders, but I pull myself through and try to make the most of every single day.

Things didn’t always used to be like this.  It all started when my brother was born.  My parents were expecting twin boys.  Healthy boys.  No one knew what went wrong, but I witnessed every bit of it. . .

            . . . I was five years old, and it was exactly one week after my birthday, which is on January 1.  My parents were expecting the twins to be delivered by the end of the month.  It was just after nightfall, and my mom—Kristine—was shaking uncontrollably.  Her blonde curls were in disarray, and her indigo eyes reflected her true pain.  My dad—Jared—rushed us all to the local hospital. 

When my mom’s ultrasound was taken, it depicted that something was wrong with the twins.  A C-section was immediately put forth, and my brothers were about to arrive.   

By the time the C-section was performed, one of my brothers was dead.  My parents decided to name him Christian Royce Hart.  My surviving brother was named Rogan Cornelius Hart. 

My parents were understandably distraught.  My mom kept repeating two words over and over.  Not again. Not again.  Not again.  I didn’t understand what that meant, but now, I can only assume that there was another child before me, one who must have died as well.

My parents made me promise not to tell Rogan about Christian, and I have always kept that promise. . .

A person would think that I would be traumatized from this event at such a young age, right?  Well, that person would be wrong. It wouldn’t be until about six years later that I would have everything dear in my life be taken from me.

My name is Delaney Aurora Hart, and my parents are still keeping secrets from me.  And my life is about to turn into one hell of a nightmare.

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