Part - 1"Are you still alive?"The sun, shining ever so brightly on the not-so-glorious house of the Augustine, the people unaware of what had happened the past few hours. There lay a mere twenty year old boy, a shining piece of cutlery, clenched in his fists, the blood reflecting his image, a grin spread across his face, unable to comprehend what he had just done!"Gotta make sure before anyone finds out!""This one is dirty", saying as he gathered another piece of not-so-sharp knife and made some deep gashes in her mother's forehead to make sure he was the only living being in the house. For one last time, he kissed on her mother's cut-open blood soaked forehead before deciding it was time.Marco didn't cremate her though; he never wanted anyone at any time to find out her body. He waited for the dawn of night and at the exact moment when he had done the honors a day before, Marco carried her body to the backskirts of his( There was no-one left to command him ) house. He didn't care whether he was getting blood all over him. The only thing that was going through his head was, "I need to get rid of this lump!!!"After gathering some firewood and rocks, he was able to conjure a fire, something which he learned from John. The last of the last smokes could still be seen rising from behind the house when the sun was heralding its appearance.Marco knew it was over. He had supreme control over the house. He was a man now. No-one could command him.That night, he couldn't sleep. The fatal blow of realization, which had already struck him earlier, was unable to elicit any sort of sympathy or visible emotions from him. However, he did regain control of himself to some extent, although Marco could not vividly remember what had happened these past two days. As living in any community would happen, the news spread like wildfire. People from all over Hallstatt came to visit Marco to pay their condolences. He even had a visit from Henry, who himself was shell-shocked at his loss over the past months. However, everyone in Hallstatt would get to know Marco's abridged version, which sounded something like this - "I was taking a quick nap in my room after helping her with the dishes while she was preparing dinner. It felt as if someone was calling out to me. I ignored it thinking it was just a dream. However, the loud echo of the lingering cry that filled the hallways did indicate something was off. I should have made my mind earlier. Probably my mother would have been alive today!""You did your best boy!""Don't be so hard on yourself!""Yes dear. We all are here for you. Come to us anytime you need help.""Don't hesitate at all Marco. Your parents helped all of us when we were in need. And now it's our turn to repay."Marco sat at the edge of the crowded dinner table, with a warm cup of coffee, probably prepared by one of their neighbours' . The room buzzed with conversation as friends, family, and acquaintances mingled, sharing memories and stories. Marco's parents had always been well-regarded in their community, known for their kindness and generosity. Today, however, Marco felt detached, as if he were an outsider looking in on someone else's life. It was hard for him to digest everything he was hearing"You know," said Anna, her voice warm and nostalgic, "Marco's parents were the most generous people I've ever met. They were always helping others, never asking for anything in return."Marco felt a pang in his chest. Generous? Maybe to others, he thought. At home, they were strict and demanding, leaving little room for him to make mistakes or express himself.Mr. Lopez, his father's field partner, chimed in next. "They were so supportive. I remember when I was struggling at work, Marco's dad took me under his wing, mentored me, and helped me get back on track."Supportive? Marco's jaw tightened. His father had always been tough on him, never acknowledging his efforts, always pushing him to be better, to achieve more. The support others received seemed like a distant dream compared to the harsh criticisms he faced daily.Mrs. Diana, his mother's best friend, added, "And his mother, such a loving person. She was always there for me during tough times, with a comforting word or a homemade meal."Loving? Marco's eyes stung with unshed tears. He remembered countless nights of loneliness, his mother's love reserved for everyone but him. Her high expectations and relentless pursuit of perfection left little room for the affection he craved.The words swirled around him, each one striking a deep, painful chord. Generous. Supportive. Loving. They were like daggers, each one driving deeper into the reality he had known. The people around him saw his parents as paragons of virtue, while he had experienced a different, harsher side of them.Marco stood up abruptly, unable to bear it any longer. He walked out into the cool evening air, feeling the weight of those words pressing down on him. He knew his parents weren't bad people, but reconciling the community's perception with his own experiences was a bitter pill to swallow. Deep down though, Marco knew his parents weren't bad. Was he really under a spell that made him avert to such thoughts? Why was he even thinking such heinous things about the only people he could properly call 'Family'. "Maybe,... maybe God wants me to forget about them. Maybe they were better off without me. Fuucckk!!! Why am I even alive at this .... ""Marco," said a voice coming from behind him, "we shall now be leaving. Come to us anytime you need our help.""Yes dear, anytime anything you want.""Thank you. I sure will visit all of you. Thanks a lot !"Marco knew he couldn't lead a normal life if his dead parent's thoughts still flooded his memory."No, no, no, no, no!! They are dead. I am the one who is alive now. I am the master of myself now. I will do whatever I wish. Nobody will command me henceforth."Part - 2Days went by swiftly after Trina's death and Marco did end up receiving assistance from his Hallstatt neighbours. They would often visit him during multiple times of the day, often giving him food or to spend time with him. The one thing Marco never liked was when someone would reminisce about his parents, and he would make it clear on his face as well. Surprisingly, none of the people thought it was strange. Probably they believed Marco wanted to relieve himself of the anguish, of the pain, of the sorrow, of the hellish days he had to endure one after the other. Marco, on the other hand, never even thought about John or Trina once. He would often keep himself engaged in some daily household work or looking after the stables. No-one could tell the boy had lost both his parents few months ago.On one such day, Marco had just completed mucking out cow dung from the barn when he was heading for home. Surprisingly, he found his door lock broken into two pieces while the door was shut in its place.He immediately called for some of the neighbourhood people, deciding not to take any risks. They turned the house upside down but in vain. "Seems good to me.""Must have been someone's mischief.""There is nothing to worry about dear. You can go in now.""Thank you, thank you all for coming!""Take care.""It's a relief that there was nothing suspicious inside the house. Must be so hard on the boy living alone.""Yeah, you are right!"Marco went inside the house, carefully wrapping it inside a red cloth and placing it inside a small box that was usually kept in her mom's wardrobe. Thereafter, he took the box and hid it under his bed, where he knew nobody would be able to find it.He had found a finger hidden inside the crockery set that served as his murder weapon, wearing a purple stone embedded ring that was worn by her mother Trina; the finger cleaned to a shine with some minimal blood dripping out of the cut area. Marco had a lot to think about!!!