The Survivor of the 27

Chapter thiry seven

"Name?" I ask in a low voice. I feel ashamed that I have to ask people this, but I don't remember.

"Sorry?" He asks.

"What," I pause. "What's your name," I ask looking away. I can see a tear roll down his cheek.

"Tom," He smiles.

"My name is Tom and I'm your brother," he adds.

"Tom," I say under my breath. Wanting to cling onto the name.

"Do you know my name?" The older man asks. I hang my head and shake it. I hear him sigh and I can practically hear his heart shatter.

"I'm your father. Not your biological father, but I always saw you as one of my girls. Your real father wasn't the best man, but when you came to our home for the first time, you fell asleep in my arms. Apparently you hadn't slept in two days. I love you, and you are my daughter," he says.

"We had our tough spots, you would call me Mr.Felix. I didn't want to force dad on you, knowing that I would never truly be your father. Eventually, I told you that you could just call me Felix," he smiles at the memory.

"What happened to my real father?" I ask. I can see him pause and think about how to answer this question best.

"He killed your mother and was taken to prison," he explains.

I nod. "I've seen you in my dreams. If I didn't see my real father, then he clearly doesn't matter to me." I can see a smile creep onto his lips.

"What about us?" The one girl asks with blue eyes.

"No," I reply bluntly.

"We're your sisters, we're both younger," the blue eyed one says.

"I'm Monica," she finally says.

"I'm Jess, I was never really close to you, not until I went to college. I would write to you once a week. You had a hard time writing back though. I came home late one night from a club. I was drunk and tired. You knew that Mom and Dad would be mad, so you took the blow. They were angry at you and I was upstairs in my room crying and listening into the conversation. You came up with a cup of tea and a warm blanket afterwards. Then you told me to get in bed. You wrapped me up in the blanket and gave me the cup of tea. You always took the blame for me, I'm sorry," she says looking down to her feet.

"We had a mutual relationship. You were so different from everyone else. We were used to being fancy and getting things that we wanted, but you weren't. When you got your license, I asked you to take me out to Whole Foods. Instead though, you took me to a small convenience store. I didn't like that it wasn't nice looking, but you told me to make due. So I did. After words I asked if we could go get something to eat. You took me to a taco truck," she smiles.

"You told me that there is more to life than being rich and snobby. You told me to 'look out for the little things in life. That's where you'll find the true gems.' I didn't really understand that till I was older. But that always stuck with me. You knew how to take care of people. You never liked to admit it, but you had a soft spot for helping people," the girl says.

"Monica," the name rolls off my tongue.

"Yeah," she smiles.

"You would always get a burrito with chicken, cheese, guacamole, and extra onions," I say remembering her order.

"That's right! You alway had a pack of gum in your truck because of how bad my breath would smell afterwards," she laughs.

"What about me?" Everyone turns around and I see the same red head from five nights prior.