Chapter 1: The Dying Moth

Change, the constant movement of all that was into all that is towards all that will ever be. Even when there is no change apparent to our eyes, trillions of atoms are moving and vibrating constantly. Energy is transferred, molecules rearranged. Never is anything the same from one moment to the next. This is true in life, from the smallest to the largest. It is true in my very own.

Considering where I began, nearly everything in my life has changed. People are afraid of change, no matter how inevitable it may be. They like the familiar, the secure, and the known. Change is frightening and new. It is too unpredictable and too uncertain to be comfortable. I feared change; that constant, mutating force over which I had no control.

The one constant in my life even now is I have always had strong feelings for my father. He and my mother had two children, my older sister and I. My sister's name was Arianna. She was my father's little princess and my mother's pride and joy. She was always very delicate and feminine. I, on the other hand, should have been born male. My mother had gotten her perfect daughter and it was supposed to be his turn to have a child to mould into perfection. I am sure it was a great disappointment to discover this second daughter.

I have no doubt my parents would have continued to attempt to have a son forever if they had been able, but complications during my delivery prevented my mother from conceiving again. My father swallowed his disappointment and set out to make the best of it, this second and unplanned female. It seemed to me he and my mother had an agreement; she would raise Arianna as she pleased and my father would raise me in his own way. Make the best of a less than ideal situation, so to speak.

My father worked as a surgeon in a large city hospital. He was gruff and methodical. He was widely acknowledged as brilliant in his field. Although it was always avoided in the courses of praise he periodically received, he was also something of a tyrant who wanted everything to run just so with very little grace for error in those in his shadow. When I was young he would spend his few days off playing with me, always teaching me something. I remember so many of our days together, learning about the structure of the cell or the physiology of the bones and muscles in my body or how to work the microscope in his study. He taught me how to love learning in order to please him. I cherished those times I had with him before they were soured by understanding.

My mother had always been more distant to me, but I quickly learned it was because only flawless Arianna could please her. I was never perfectly poised enough to make her happy and at an early age I began to instinctively retreat from her insomuch as I could while still living in her domain. I felt I did not need her in any case, because I had my father, who poured his attention on me when he could. When he was away, I kept to myself and buried myself in books.

It was not until I hit my teenage years the very attention I once revelled in began to chafe. As I looked at options for my future, it became clear nothing but his plan would do. I was the heir to his crown and as such I needed to follow in his footsteps, preferably straight to the same schools he had graduated from. I still wanted to keep him happy, so I took the courses necessary to get into the programs he wanted me to take. I excelled. He was pleased.

It was in the deep quiet of night that my heart rebelled. I had no desire to be trapped into a life I had no affinity for. I feared death and I did not want the responsibility of maintaining life.

It was when I was accepted to a choice school that I balked. I told my father tentatively I was not going to follow him. His reaction was ugly. He was furious. I could nearly see his thoughts about how the efforts he had expended in raising me would be wasted if I did not follow the plan. It hurt. He told me in no uncertain terms I would be attending or else. He did not define what or else actually was, but it was obvious it would not be something pleasant. I felt cornered and I was angry. I told him I was not going to live my life as a tribute to his. He yelled at me to get out.

I took him at his word, although I knew he only meant I should get out of his immediate presence. I was tired of the constant expectations. I was so tired of being compared to him and of being his replacement son. I went upstairs and packed my bags and took everything that was important to me. I was a diligent saver and I calculated I could get by while I tried to find a job. I had worked for the last two years because my father had thought it would be character building and I knew I could get by, although it would not be easy.

When I came back down the stairs with my life in a couple of bags his eyeballs nearly bulged out of his skull. He demanded I go back up to my room. I ignored him and walked out the door. My rebellion was clearly straining his control over his temper. He lost it. The last thing he said was if I did not come back I would no longer be a member of the family. I ignored him and walked out the door. I did not cry, I was too resentful.

I was no longer going to play the role he had assigned to me. For the first time, I would decide. I would not lock myself in a hospital for the rest of my life; I would go and see things I had not seen in a world I scarcely knew.

I had no idea then that my vague wishes would be granted in their entirety.

"The library will be closing in fifteen minutes. Please bring your books to the front desk for checkout," the bored voice on the intercom intoned. It was the Friday night voice of a student employee who would rather already be somewhere else. I shoved my books into my backpack and stood up. I pulled on my jacket because I knew it would be cold outside. It was fall and the leaves were just beginning to fall from the trees. The days were still warm, but I had been in the library for hours.

My paper was nearly done and I had a nice feeling of accomplishment to mark the end of the evening. I saved it on my flash drive one last time and stowed the drive in my bag. I slid on my jacket and pulled my arms through the straps of the backpack and carried the books I had used to the front desk. I left them there and I walked out the front door.

The chilly night air hit my face as I walked down the wide stone steps. I shrugged back in my jacket for extra warmth and then began the walk home. I lived conveniently close to the school and to the coffee shop where I worked. There was also a supermarket and a park within a few blocks from my home. It was the perfect location.

Yet, something in the night air gave me an uncomfortable feeling of creeping nostalgia. I recalled when I first left my parents' house. I stayed with my friend Stephanie and her grandmother until I had found a home for myself. After much difficulty, I lucked out and found myself a place to stay.

It was small and not overly clean, but they gave it to me with first and last month's rent paid up front. I slowly added cheap furniture to the rooms and it had become my sanctuary from the world. I had found myself a job at a small coffee shop closer to where I lived and started taking courses at the local university. I only took one or two courses at a time but at least I was going. I could not help but feel a little bit defensive even though there was no one left who would care what I was doing. I had not had contact with anyone in my family since I left. I did not think they had even looked for me.

An insect flew straight into my face and almost went up my nose, thankfully distracting me from my gloomy memories; albeit in a most unpleasant way. I sputtered and swiped the little intruder away. As it fell I could see it was a light colored moth. It twitched about for a moment and then lay dead on the ground.

I suddenly realized I was standing idly on the street, looking at a dying insect. I shook my head at my own ridiculousness and resumed walking. I turned and began to walk through the park. Cutting through shaved a few minutes off my trip and there were lights along the main paths so I was able to see even at night. I just wanted to get home as quickly as I could.

I was about half way through when I thought I saw a dark shape moving swiftly out of the corner of my eye, deep in the shadows. I turned to look, but there was nothing there but trees swaying in the light of the street lamps. I shrugged. It was probably just my subconscious pointing out the stupidity of a young woman loitering around at night in a substandard neighborhood by an isolated park. I increased my pace. My reasoning could not prevent the cold shiver which crept along my back.

I heard a noise. It sounded like a branch breaking and it made me jump. I looked around and could not see from where the noise had come. The street was deserted. It was all I could do to not panic and run. I sped up. I wanted to get home. It was only about five minutes more until I would be safe in my apartment.

I heard footsteps following me. I looked back again. There was a person clothed in the darkness about a dozen meters behind me. He was a tall man with broad shoulders but I could not make out his features through the deepening night. He moved with a determined stride and shortened the distance between us.

I started to jog, just to prove to myself I was merely being paranoid that he had any interest in me. A quick glance back showed me he was keeping pace. I gave up all pretense of calm and ran like I never had before, my backpack thumping up and down on my back as I tore down the path. I was almost out and that meant almost home and home meant safety.

So suddenly I did not really comprehend what was happening, I was yanked backwards and flung off to the side. I screamed, but there was no one around to hear me or to care. I was alone in the universe with this sinister stranger.