The next day, I am driving about four hours up into Ontario, Canada to the quaint, rural city of Caledon. It's my hometown and also where the family reunion is to be held. I pull into the driveway, which my father crafted before I was even born. I park the car and immediately spot some of my family in the fields, waving to me.

Just beyond them, I can see the familiar grand one-story mansion-style farmhouse where I grew up in -- what feels like -- long ago. The black and white exterior always makes me think of a very French-like architecture design. It is surrounded by lush forests and trees that cluster around the property on practically all sides.

I get out of the car with a sigh and put on my best happy face. Thankfully, the bruises don't look that horrible. My body has an uncanny healing method, which is a blessing. And I do have a backup plan in case anyone asks and I know they will ask.

I make my way up the driveway and to the stone pathway that leads up to the front door. I knock a few times and then turn the door handle and slip inside. It's my family, so it's not like I'm protruding. Besides, my mother and father always tell me to just "come on in, son." I find myself in the renovated foyer, looking into the massive living room that is decorated like a hunter's paradise.

There's a black bear, reindeer, moose and elk head on the brown wooden wall. A giant fireplace sits at the far end, blazing with a kindled flame as the embers spark off into the stone cavern that nurtures it.

I drop off my stuff by the table to the side where various shoes and keys and belongings are scattered about.

It's actually been a few years since I've last seen my cousin. Since the whole scandal broke out, I distanced myself from him. I haven't talked with him or reached out for anything. Nothing. I don't want to be linked with a scumbag like that.

I was here to see everyone else except for him. I wanted nothing to do with him, changed or not, he HAD hurt me.

I am about to leave the foyer, when I am mobbed by a pair of arms and my mother crying out, "Radimie's here!!!"

I gasp and claw for freedom to get some air as she smothers my head into the center of her bodacious bosom. "Mother! Stop! Can't. Breathe. Air!"

After a few seconds, she releases the grip on me and shoves me back away from her. "Radimie, your sister is upstairs with your cousin, uncle and aunt!"

I smooth down my light gray hoodie and then glare at her, playfully. I can see past her into the humongous living room, where I can see a bunch of people sitting and chatting -- all kinds of family members from all over my family I am sure. And just beyond them, is the long sliding glass door that opens up to the pool deck, which my father had handcrafted for us kids to have fun during the few warm summer months (and then eventually added on a heating element so we could get the most out of the pool all year around, living in Canada). 

"OhmyGod, Radimie, what happened to your pretty little face?!" She then grabs my arm with a careful but deliberate motion and pushes the sleeves up my arms. "Do you have a girlfriend who is abusing you?"

"No!" I snap, jerking my arm back and shoving the sleeve back down my arm. "I just had a hockey accident that's all. Stupid Utica player and I got into it badly. He got the worst of it though." I flash her a smirk.

"You know how I feel about fighting in hockey, young man."

"Good to see you too, Mom. I'll go say hi to my uncle, aunt and sister!" I remark, turning on my heels and stepping away from her, before she can undress and question me before my whole family.

"And your rehabbed cousin!" my mom calls after me as I book it up the staircase to the side of the foyer and away from her.

I reach the top and I'm greeted by a chorus of welcome cries. My uncle is sitting in a chair watching a taped game of the 2013 Stanley Cup Finals. My aunt is sitting next to him. But the first person I see is an attractive young blonde woman with shimmering green eyes, who comes up to me.

She twirls a strand of her long mid-back length hair around her finger as she says, "Radim, it's been so long since I've seen you! I watch a lot of your games and I know we've chatted a lot over messenger and all, but...it's not the same as seeing you face-to-face and hanging out."

"Good to see you too, Kenz."

"Hey cousin," another deeper voice remarks. "Long time no see."

I glance around my sister to find a bulky white man with curly dirty blond hair and a signature goatee on his chin. Dorian Maximilliaj, my twisted cousin. "Hey, Dorian, you look like you haven't brushed your hair or washed it in a few days. Did you just roll out of bed each morning and go 'eh, not worth it' or 'eh, good enough?'"

My sister turns around, putting her hands on her hips.

The man folds his giant arms across his chest. "It's my style, just like how you wear an abuse victim quite well."

"Dorian!" my sister scolds. "I told you that that is not something you say!"

"For your information, I got these from a hockey fight. Thank you."

My sister giggles. "I saw that fight, I think. Against the Utica guy, right? You got him good with some rights. You just need to work on those lefts and the take down. Looked like two uncoordinated baby fawns trying to skate for the first time."

"MacKenzie, so not helping." I scold with a roll of my eyes.

"Well, while you've been busy playing hockey, I've been helping Dorian out. He seems to like me a lot. I know I'm younger than you, but it makes me feel special. Helping someone who's older than me, boosts my confidence."

I nod and then watch as Dorian's eyes tilt down to look at my sister's chest.

"Her eyes are up a little ways, Insest douchebag," I grumble, feeling the protective older brother in me coming out again.

"Relax, Radimieboo, it's a compliment. You gotta admit, Little Kenzie really grew a nice pair..." Dorian sneers, shoving me backward.

I shove him out of the room and into the bathroom. I pin him against the wall, glaring into his eyes. "I know you've always had some bizarre infatuation with my sister, but do you know how wrong that is? It's very wrong! Stop looking at her like that!"

"She likes it though. And so do I... she's been helping me out a lot more than just... if you catch my drift?" He wags his eyebrows at me, taking a sick pleasure from my flustered ignorance.

"She's innocent and MY sister. I know you already threatened to ruin her life before you got busted. And to tell you the truth, I don't think you've really changed at all since rehab! You're still as crazy and psychopathic as ever. Look, I know you got sent to rehab instead of jail, because you suffer from a severe form of Schizophrenia. I guess you faked your way along and refused the help, because if anything you're worse than you were before!"

Dorian growls and shoves me off of him. Then he brings a powerful backhand up to my face and sends me flying into the bathtub.

I scream with pain as he climbs on top of me and grabs me by my hoodie.

He stares me dead in the eyes, as he spits out, "You know so little about me, Radim. And for the record, you might be right and I'm just getting started with your little sister. The way I view it, I'm healthy though..."

My uncle and aunt, who heard the commotion and my pained scream come into the bathroom with my stunned sister. They all grab Dorian and pull him off of me.

But as they drag him out of the room, he smirks at me.

A smirk that sends shivers creeping up my spine.

Dorian is being punished by my uncle and aunt and being forced to sit and watch hockey with them. I know Dorian isn't much of a hockey fan, but he loves the fights. He loves the sport of wrestling most and that makes sense for the type of person he is.

The smirk lingers in my head and for a second, with his body build and the eyes and the smirk, I'm contemplating if he's the mysterious Hannibal Hacker. He has reasons to go after me and his timeline for getting out of 'rehab' fits perfectly with when this all began.

I know he's staying here with my uncle, aunt and my parents. Occasionally, I knew my sister would come home for the weekends and spend a night or two here. And after finding this out from her, I wanted nothing more than to reveal everything that had been going on and accuse that dirty perverted schizo of ruining my life and beating me up.

But, I needed some proof and I wasn't ready just yet to spill it all to her and my family. I'd never hear the end of it and it might make things worse.

I know a little about Schizophrenia, mainly that it's a serious mental disorder where people interpret reality abnormally. Like how Dorian would view being in love with my sister as a very normal, healthy romance. I know that when Dorian was younger, it would result in a combination of hallucinations and delusions.

I remember when I sold him out to my parents and uncle that he confided in me how much he wanted to sneak into Kenzie's room when she was sleeping, put a hand over her mouth and watch her struggle. He said it would be a cool experimental thrill. Not that he'd harm her, but just that he'd startle her.

And he smiled as he spoke about it.

It creeped me out so much.

I pass by the bathroom, which is on the right side of me, where he'd attacked me a little bit ago. I continue to the end of the small hallway and find that the door to his room is cracked open slightly. I then heave a sigh and push it open more and enter.

Inside, I find that his room is very neat and organized for the most part. His bed is made, his laundry is in the hamper, nothing is really out of sorts. As my eyes scan the room, combing over his giant king sized bed with black sheets and a matching dark comforter on it, I spot a plastic box that is sticking out from under his bed.

A poor job at hiding it, Dorian, I think to myself as I cross the room and bend down to pull it out.

Inside I find a series of pamphlets and papers and folders. All of it about one similar topic: Schizophrenia.

One of them is a pamphlet that says, 'People with schizophrenia require lifelong treatment. Early treatment may help get symptoms under control before serious complications develop and may help improve the long-term outlook.'

And there is another one that says, 'Schizophrenia can result in some combination of hallucinations, delusions and extremely disordered thinking and behavior that impairs daily functioning and can be disabling. How to tell if you experience any of these?'

There is also a paper that says in bold letters at the top, 'Symptoms in Teenagers' and is followed by:

'Schizophrenia symptoms in teenagers are similar to those in adults, but the condition may be more difficult to recognize. This may be in part because some of the early symptoms of schizophrenia in teenagers are common for typical development during teen years, such as:

Withdrawal from friends and family

A drop in performance at school

Trouble sleeping

Irritability or depressed mood

Lack of motivation

Also, recreational substance use, such as marijuana, methamphetamines or LSD, can sometimes cause similar signs and symptoms.

Compared with schizophrenia symptoms in adults, teens may be:

Less likely to have delusions

More likely to have visual hallucinations

I put all the papers and pamphlets back in the box. And then close it back up and stuff it back under the bed. It's clear to me now that Dorian doesn't want people to know about it and to continue to think that he is doing fine, when in fact he is not.

I get up and head over to his desk, which has a single photo printed out. I glance down, noticing the familiarity of it. And I know the subjects of the image too.

It's a picture of Jonni and Piper on a private date at a restaurant. Or at least they thought it was private!

I look to the side and find a stack of pictures on his bookcase, hiding underneath Stephen King books. If you weren't really looking around for stuff, they'd be well hidden, blending in with the books and you'd think that it was just a book itself.

I carefully take the photos out and almost drop them with horror. A gasp slips out of my mouth and my throat runs dry.

How...? Why...?

This isn't good. And this might be the proof I need!