Part one. If I knew anything, it was this:
One: The spare key was behind the loose brick
Two: There was always spare money in my left shoe
Three: Everyone was hiding something from me
And lastly : I would die on April ninth, at 12.36.07 exactly, the year of my fifteenth birthday.
I always knew there was something strange about my family. There was an entire section of the family cemetery reserved for first born sons. Not a single one had dates, only years. And every year, on the day after my birthday, we went to visit them. I must've been a strange child, because I liked looking at the stones, trying to find out why there was no dates, no inscription. No one would tell me anything.
There were always whispers. They probably thought I couldn't understand a word, but I was a smart kid, even at five.
"I'm so sorry."
"Maybe the next boy'll help"
"Allen sons are..."I have about three months to live, as I'm writing this. This seems like an insignificant detail, but you'll understand as soon as I'm done.
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