Aimee.
That’s my full name. At least . . . I think it is. I never got a chance to know, really.
When our adoptive parents were on their way home from vacation, they found us next to a tree on a full moon night. Lee was only a baby, Eric was about one, and I was three. The tree is special somehow, like it was supposed to be created for us. It is tall with bright pink leaves, and the bark is rough, but comforting. Every once in a while, Lee, Eric and I go visit that tree. It’s a while from home, but it’s worth it.
If a beautiful goddess and a perfect angel decided to have a child, it would be Lee. Her skin is like a perfect marshmallow that has been bronzed just right. Her eyes are blue as a perfect evening sky. Her natural hair is bright orange with a simple light red streak going down it, and it goes all the way down to her knees. She’s the youngest at nine.
Although Eric has the lost puppy look, he is very protective of Lee. His hair is light blonde, short and spiky. His eyes are the lost puppy part; they are medium-sized and as green as fresh grass. They always look so sad, which then makes me feel the same way. His skin is pale; not the Edward Cullen pale, but pale as in a little darker than white. Eric is the tallest of us 3. For some odd reason, he is relieved about. My younger brother is the middle-aged child at fourteen.
Now me; I am the oldest of us all. At age sixteen, I managed to protect us three since our second parents died. My hair is resembles a baby chick; light blonde with light brown behind my head and soft, I have bangs going horizontally across my forehead, and my hair goes a bit past my shoulders. My eyes, well, are dark violet. Lee says she wishes she had my eyes, but I wish I had hers.
I will never forget the day when we got the news that our adoptive parents have been killed. It has been three years since that happened. They were on their way to find a job to pay off their debt of the house. Lee was drawing a picture of the pink leafed tree, Eric was looking in a drawer to start cleaning one of his favorite cooking pots, and I was practicing my singing. Jake, Eric’s best friend, ran inside and told me my parents were killed. Not believing him, I walked outside and saw our neighbors faces full of sorrow and disbelief. My eyes started to water when Lee and Eric walked outside. I kept thinking to myself that I couldn’t cry, because I had to stay strong for Lee and Eric.
When our adoptive parents were still alive, they told us that we had to hide and never reveal that Eric was found with a silver-type metal around his neck that read: “Child of Ki-“. That’s all I can read, because the metal is old and scratched up, and missing its other half. Once in a while, Lee and I get jealous of that. Why weren’t we found with one?
We never knew why our adoptive parents were killed, or why they told us why we had to hide, and they never got the chance. All I can tell you is that I think it has to do with our past, because I remember walking to my work and seeing Eric’s, Lee’s, and my face on a poster on the restaurants wall. Reading:
“Dead or Alive.”