Assassin's Creed High-School

Fresh Start

Eighteen days. That’s how much time had passed since learning of your parents’ untimely demise – at least, that’s what Lucy says. She keeps track, but you don’t. Well...can’t would be the more appropriate term. The days have blended together. Day or night, you don’t bother to tell the difference.

The first few days you were simply numb. There were no tears shed at the funeral. People attending would lower their voices to a whisper and comment that you were in denial. But the truth was that you simply didn’t know how to act. You had never grieved before. The only loss you’ve ever encountered was when a fictional character died, but this was not the same. Not even a little.

People don't help much when you're grieving. They try. Generally they fail. They don't know what to say. That's the problem; they think they have to say something. Mostly they'd do better just being there. But, for most people, they don't know how to handle a person in grief. They get nervous. Not even Lucy or Desmond knew how to behave around you. Occasionally they’d check in on you – you refused to leave your room unless absolutely necessary – but hardly any words were exchanged. They’d just stand there in the doorway, shifting their weight from one foot to the other. You weren’t blind. You could see their desperate looks when they encounter you. "Should I talk about it?" they were saying to themselves. It was easy to see their nervousness as they try to decide what to say. Whatever they decided didn’t  matter. It wouldn’t erase what has happened.

It’s difficult to determine the kind of effect grief will have on the remainder of life. You had never felt so lonely, abandoned, forsaken, and deserted. But above all, you felt incredibly lazy. You didn’t realise how debilitating grief is. Every moment is similar to trudging through waist-deep snow. Every action is an effort. Life was running in slow motion. You felt tired, worn out, exhausted. Is this connected to grief? By nature, you weren’t a lazy person. But the last few weeks, all you had done was lay in bed, listening to the voice mails your parents had left.

But you can’t be that way anymore.

After the funeral, Lucy and Desmond officially adopted you; which means Primrose Island was now your home. You were genuinely grateful to the both of them that they so willingly accepted you into their home. They didn’t need to do it. They were both still young, and no doubt the idea of raising someone else’s teenager was less than ideal. But they took the responsibility upon themselves, and you were going to make an effort.

Today will be different. A fresh start. It’s the only way to make it through.

“Don’t you look lovely,” Lucy cooed the second you entered the kitchen, her eyes absorbing your appearance. “That uniform looks great on you.”

(The School Uniform)