Death was a burden.

And I've seen it's works being done. The murder of my mother from my own father was like the weight of a bus. Just to add onto that, my own flesh and blood drugged himself after killing his own wife.

Although my parents are gone, I've still got a... family. A blood craving, vengeance thirsty group of outcasts like I who have been waiting for an opportunity to get back at the world.

Define family. A group consisting of parents and children living together in a household. We consist of children. Of orphans. Of raped teen mothers and unexpected young fathers. Of children who shouldn't know how to murder. Of drug-addicts. Of those who would be considered a shame or burden in this world.

Family. Doesn't mean love. Like it says on Google, people that live under a roof, strong or not. You could live under the same roof as a child molester and give absolutely no shit at all to them. Yet explained in the search-drive, all you gotta do is live with them. So, I guess they're family. Not a mentally stable and perfect one, but still a family.

Still, death was burden. I'm not afraid to shake its hand.