"Breakfast!", being shouted through the house, was what woke Lenna at the ungodly hour of 6am. She groaned and tossed onto her side, determined to go back to sleep.

"Kelly, breakfast is ready" her mother, Ellia, yelled, stomping into her room. Lenna sighed, resigning herself to the fact she was not going to get anymore sleep. She sat up and looked at her mother.

"I've told you a million times, it's not Kelly, its Lennarinx" she insisted. She hated Kelly; it was so common and plain. She had met too many other Kelly's in her life, and non of them had been remotely interesting. She refused to be identified as a Kelly.

"Well, the day you were born your father and I decided that we were going to call you Kelly, and I have ever since, so excuse me if old habits die hard. Now, come eat" and she marched out of the room.

Deciding to put this argument on hold, Lenna regretfully rolled out of bed, and stumbled down the stairs. Morning person was one thing she was not. She walked into the kitchen and smelled pancakes. Okay, something must be up, her mother only bothered to make pancakes when there was something she wanted to talk about, because she knew the temptations of her pancakes would keep Lenna at the table until she had her fill.

"Here honey" her mother said as she sat down at the table, holding out a tall stack of hot pancakes. Lenna sighed. "What is it Mother?" she asked. She knew something was up.

Her mother looked at her, that look that adults gave children when they were about to say something and they were not sure the child would understand, that infuriating look that made you just want to scream to get on out with it. "Do you remember your cousin Hector…." She trailed off.

Lenna knew what happened. "He died, didn't he" she stated bluntly. It seems like lately everyone was dying. Her mother nodded. Lenna felt her feet turn to pins and needles. That was the reaction she always seemed to have when people died, she would react physically. But death had become such a part of her life that an emotional reaction was beyond her. She had made herself disconnected from death, it was how she dealt with it.

She almost missed the first time she had been hit with death. She was ten, and her grandfather died. She cried and cried and cried, she felt as if the only way for her to keep living was if she got up and walked and never stopped. But she got over it. And now, with the fifth death, she didn't feel it. It hit her like a numb burden, that would continue to sit on her shoulders forever. Her mother looked at her, looking for her reaction. Lenna knew what to do; this had happened before. Her mother wanted to hug her, act sad, and move on with the day. Lenna was fine with that. She gave her mother a hug and smiled.

"You okay" Ellia asked. "Yep" Lenna nodded. "I'm going to go to Lily's" and she jumped up and started up the stairs to get dressed. "Eat something" Ellia yelled after her.

Lenna ignored her, as she often did. She went to her closet and picked out an outfit. Black, black, and black, that was a rather common choice for her. But maybe today her mom wouldn't bug her about it. After all, you were meant to wear black after someone died. She grabbed her messenger bag, which basically held her life in it, everything she needed, and headed down the back stairs. She had the upstairs of her house to herself, with a partly hidden staircase that lead to outside. This was a pretty old house, and she guessed it used to be a servants stair. She got outside.

It was an overcast day, as was often the case in Portland. But that was fine with Lenna, overcast days always seemed more peaceful to her…almost magical. She walked down the street to catch the number 4 bus. Her whole body felt weighted down, and worry started to envelope her. She had put off more thought of her cousin Hectors death until she could get out of the house.

She remembered him, although she had not seen him in years. She had been close to him when she was little. She remembered when he got his permit and would drive her little six year old self around. That thrilled her, and he would take her to the park every Sunday, it was the highlight of her week. Then when she was ten he left. He suddenly moved away, and barely kept contact with anyone. She remembered her last conversation with him. It was a couple weeks after their grandpa died, and they were talking about the how he would always give them to much money, and how his house was always so full of life. He had told her something. It had seemed funny and unrealistic at the time. He told her that their family died in threes; always. He said it in such a weird, serious tone. He was a funny guy, and was never serious; that was what she had loved about him. She had completely forgotten he said it until a couple months later, after her aunt and father had died.

© Copyright 2007 LaLunaDea (FictionPress ID: 566697). All rights reserved. Distribution of any kind is prohibited without the written consent of LaLunaDea.