The eldest of the Walters twins slept soundly next to his (slightly) younger sister as the sun rose over their quaint little house in New York. Even at seven years old he could tell something was being planned. Something big. Something happening right underneath his and his sister's noses. He might not have been book smart like his sister, but he had his moments of clarity. He had his suspicions about what his father was planning. Meetings with the rival company. Making him tag along with him so he could teach him the ways of his company. He had even been introduced to the rival company owner's son.
All his suspicions died the moment his mother woke him that morning. New suspicions started to dwell in his little seven year old mind. His mother had told him she was planning a surprise for his father, and that she needed his help. His excitement blinded him from seeing that his mother had packed most of his stuff up. He was excited and bubbly, like always, but exhausted because his mother woke him at sunrise. When he finally came to his senses and realized that they were indeed not getting supplies for a surprise, it was too late. All he could do was sit and admire the sights until he felt himself falling deeper into the black abyss of sleep.
When he woke he wasn't in the car anymore. He was lying down on a couch and could faintly hear arguing outside. His bubbly attitude returned and he jumped up quickly looking outside to see what the ruckus was about. What he saw, though, broke his heart. His mother was handing this strange woman, who looked like his mother, his suitcase filled with his stuff. He must have made some kind of noise. It could have been the sob that escaped his lips or him slamming his head down on the window. Whatever he did, it got his mother's attention. She looked him in the eyes. Her eyes swarmed with so many emotions. Regret was the most prominent. Her regret lingered as she walked to the car and drove away.
The boy cried himself to sleep that night, and the next. But by the third night he had grown used to the feeling of not having his twin next to him. He had grown used to the feeling of being alone. He didn't cry again. Even when he found out that his mother was dead, he didn't cry. He grew up too fast. He grew up too soon...