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Chapter 1 - Birth

Do I remember the day? Of course not. In fact, nobody does, all it will ever be is stories that are passed down from parent to child.

Fragmented memories constructed from nothing but glimpses at pictures and albums, having forced joyous memories implanted in you of the blessed birth of baby you; well in this case me. Can we truly say that we remember it though? Feeling, what they think you felt being, who they said you were?

“You were so adorable.” “I remember carrying you in my arms as though it was yesterday.” “You were so smart and stubborn as a child.”

“You have changed since then, what happened?” Nothing but an endless comparison to a version of me that I can neither remember nor be responsible for.

So how much do we remember? Can we truly say it is accurate? This is my story and what better place to start than the beginning.

Here is what I have pieced together from what I have heard about the first two years of my being. Of course, being but only human, most you will read is exaggerated to better my story, being it comes mostly from but hearsay. It was a Wednesday, an afternoon much like this one, the sun could still be seen sieving its way through the color stained hospital windows.

In anguish and clutching my grandmother’s hand as if to transfer the pain she felt in that so-called magical moment. Doing her best to follow the doctor’s instruction despite her fleeting consciousness. Approximately 35 minutes later, there I was, cute as a button covered in birth juice.

All my mother can remember, is waking up with me next to her; snuggled up in a comfy sky-blue blanket.

Hector! I remember later searching up what my name meant. According to what I found my mother had decided to name me after a Greek hero who at some point died at the hands of the Great hero *Achilles*. Regardless of this, I do appreciate my name, after all, I was still named after a Greek hero.

Well, I am sure you all noticed that my father is missing from this story, he was a very busy man, to say the least. At the time of my birth, he was at the office, it was around this time that his business would begin to boom. In a way, you could say I was a blessing in the guise of a beautiful baby boy.


" I am sorry Sir, but how does this have anything to do with the current issue?”

“You asked me to tell you what happened, and I am” he sighed. “So, it’s either you choose to listen, or I have nothing else to say! May I continue?” Hector pressed sternly.

“Please!” they replied; gesturing him to continue narrating the story.


Moving into a house as a child is evidently something you don’t remember, and there is not much to it. Relatives shower you with gifts and clothes, looking back now I might have been nothing less of an investment to them. They all admired my father’s ever-growing wealth, seizing any and every opportunity to gain his favor. Avoiding to ever disappoint or quarrel with a man of his stature, a man of pride and expectations. For they knew, as later would I; that he doesn’t tread lightly to disappointments.

The first chance they got, my parents were sure to have me baptized. Both shared in their own beliefs, devoting their time to revel in their faith. Hector, third child to the Mason line; my name was now christened to me both in birth and religion. A sister of 8, and a brother of 5 preceded me at the time; both of whom I grew to love despite sharing different mothers. Growing up together, clowning around, sharing laughs and tears was the joy of my childhood. There was another brother, though not really my brother but cousin, he was family, even though not in blood. Alas! Was that the pinnacle of my life, surrounded by the people that loved me as much as I did them.


“I remember telling people that I got this from a fight against a stray dog.” Hector implied, revealing what was buried under his eye. A crescent-shaped dark scar emerged that span across his eye, barely noticeable at this point.


What happened? It was an accident that involved stairs and me not following simple instructions, a story for another day. I remember almost losing this eye, but after some well thought out medical aid – purely cleansing it with an absurd amount of ethanol. I was rushed to the hospital and lost use of my eye for almost a week. Shortly after I was riddled with disease, resulting in failure to intake food, and any that I was able to, was thrown back out. I grew frail, pale, and withered, my mother, concerned she had lost her firstborn. By some miracle I manage to evade this predicament, or else I would not be here to tell you this story of mine.

Childhood pictures suggested that as a child there was a lack of joy in my life, as I do not appear to be smiling in any of the pictures from my early years. Mind you, the pictures portrayed nothing short of the most enjoyable scenes for a child. Learning how to operate and coordinate the two-wheeled monstrosity that was a bicycle; leaving me with a scar for my efforts. Solving complex and calculating equations to result in the construction of magical or disappointing structures, that was Legos, as well as matching shapes to the little holes. Why make it sound so perplexing, you ask? At the time would these have appeared to be but simple tasks to the child of 1-3 years.

We lived in a loving and caring neighborhood, surrounded by people of every ethnicity; this allowed me to grow up with an expanded mindset. It was around this time that my father’s business would boom, I was not to live in the house for much longer before it would be time to move out.

Before gaining a full understanding of what home is, I was to be sent away. You see, my siblings were intellectuals, even at the young ages they had already accomplished so much in their lives. Being a part of the Mason family, you are expected to maintain a status quo. Even at the age of 4, the pressure was immense, the expectation for you to perform as well as or even outclass those that came before you. After failing to adapt to the schools situated locally, it was decided that at the age of 5, I was to be sent off to a boarding institution. A staggering 15-hour drive from where we currently resided, in unfamiliar territory.


“Did you say drive? You know what never mind that, it's late, let's continue this tomorrow, shall we?” sighed the young man seated across from Hector. He was dressed in a stainless white shirt folded up on one side, with a loose navy-blue tie, and dark blue pants. His deep blue eyes weary from listening to Hector’s story at 2 am no less. His sloppy hair complimented the sprouts of facial hair that you could call a beard.

“I agree!” retorted the girl sitting next to him. She was dressed much simpler and more appropriate for the time; plain dark blue jeans, a white blouse covered in a leather jacket. She was of a fairer complexion than the man and had a more attractive outlook to her.

“I will see you tomorrow then...” Hector commented as the two left the room with tablets in tow.


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