I stepped into the abandoned house with the crack of thunder. The stale atmosphere was perfect to escape the cold rain outside.

I haven’t been in my parent’s home in a long time. Since their death, no one in my family had ever spoken a word about them.

I walk inside. A golden piano sat in the middle of the large room, just under the similarly styled chandelier. Surrounding the piano were priceless pieces of fine art.

My parents didn’t appreciate a sense of gratitude, which reflected directly on their lifestyles. It was one of the main reasons why I left home. 

I stared at the painting of my mother. The young woman looked below as if she intended to look directly at me.

A knock rang from above.

“Is anyone there?” I yelled. Silence returned, just as I expected. Is someone up there?

I turn back to the painting. It was as if her eyes had eerily followed me as I made my way toward the stairs. I ignored it. I'm now focused on a different task.

I ascend to the second floor and find nothing. I decided to check the attic. I came here for what was up there, anyways.

It was exceptionally cooler than the rest of the house. I gave a deep breath to cool my nerves. I witness the cold gas escape from my mouth.

A box laid on its side in the attic with paper sprawled against the floor. I eventually found the paper I was looking for.

[i]This is the Last Will and Testament of both Michael and Susan Rock.

We, both Michael Rock and Susan Rock, declare in our sound state of mind that all of our property, all of our land, and all of our space are to be sold to no one, to be given to no one, and to be redistributed to no one.

We state, upon our own appointment, that only with the birth of our first grandson, given by our son, Caden Rock, will any of our land, property, and space be inherited.[/i]

With no time to reflect on my disgust, I hear something from behind. I spun around, stunned with shock. A translucent, ghostly, image of my young mother floated in front of me.

“Mother?” I said, cautiously.

“What a disgusting little cretin you’ve become, Caden,” she spats. “No class and no pride left in you. Look at what you’ve become. Pillaging the dead for their belongings.”

I was shocked and curious at first with the sudden appearance of my mother, but with her onslaught of words, I come to the sense to end this as soon as possible.

“Too afraid to speak?" She continued. "Seeing that document in your possession, I guess the surprise has been spoiled for your eager hands, hasn’t it?”

“How do you plan to have my child live in such a horrible place like this? You know--”

“Please do not bore me with your words any longer, even if I am deceased.”

Anger rode a course through my body. I clench a fist to ease myself.

“Your son will come to us, regardless whether you want him to or not.”

“How do you know that?!” I shout.

“Lower your voice! I will not listen to your loud tone.”

I ignore her statement. “My child will be kind. He will appreciate all that comes to him, and I will foresee to that! I am the parent of the child, not--”

She interrupted me once more in an explosion of laughter. Anger filled me once more to the bone as I grit my teeth.

“Enough!” I shout. A crack of thunder roars in the background with me. She became silent. A brief pause expanded between the two of us, letting me calm down. She continued.

“There is no way for you to stop your child. If you think so, you are only delusional. Take yourself as the spitting example of what your child will turn out like. He will become fueled by anger, just like how you are with your father. He will become unempathetic, just as how you are with I.” 

She continued. “You are no more fit to be a parent as were we, and because of it, the same will happen on to you as what happened to us.”

“I am not--” I try to reply, but with a blink, she disappeared.

“-- like you...”

I stand alone in the dark attic. I'm not at all like them, am I?