I haven't heard from Type since earlier this afternoon. 

 Or Reyna, whose voicemail I've gotten a hundred times. "Well fine. Don't answer my calls." Initially, I came home - Aero's home – to eat some dinner. Reyna's steamy with me now because I don't think she trusts me. Not because she's nervous, but because she's smart. She shouldn't trust me – well, the killer me. But there's a part of me that really loves her. Like, head over heels. I just have a crazily awesome ability to compartmentalize and separate killing her friends from hurting her. 

 Once this is all over, we won't have to worry about Type or who's going to die next. 

 Right now, we're finishing up dinner at the table. It's me and my brother, my mom and our father. My father looks like Aero, with his light eyes and hair. My mother looks like me, with dark hair and devious looks. My grandpa was the one with my eyes. He passed them down to my uncle, or so I'm told.

Speaking of my uncle... "So, Dad," I start, polishing off my plate. "I didn't know that uncle Giovanni had twins." Now that I think about it, the DNA in the blood at Destiny'sprobably belonged to the unknown twins."

 Mom looks over and Aero furrows his brows.

"What are you talking about, Enzo?" he inquires, vaguely annoyed.

"I saw some newspaper clippings and stuff about it. He lost his twins in an accident?" I clarify, studying my father.

"Where did you see those?" he cryptically interrogates, now studying me.

"In the hospital morgue when there was a lockdown. There were tons. How did I never see them before?"

How did I never see them before? It seemed like a pretty big deal.

"He didn't have twins," my mother bites unexpectedly. "Giovanni had patients who died at a young age around the time you were being born. That's it."

"According to the papers," I add, dismissing my mother. "He killed himself after they died...you told me he skipped town. Why did you lie?" 

 Unsurely, my dad looks to me. "You were young when Giovanni killed himself. But it's over now. Don't worry about it."

Foggy memories of myself bouncing on his leg and going with him to run errands surface to my mind. "Uncle Gio was a doctor. People die all the time in that field. Oh, and not the mention that these were the King twins!" My voice rises, anger at not understanding why my parents kept this a secret from me and why they continue to try and keep it that way.

"What?" Aero suddenly inquires, just as surprised as I am.

"Calm down! We already have one pain in the ass, don't be another one!" my mom screeches at Aero with tears in her eyes. Why is she crying?

Aero shrinks back, but I jackknife up. Pointing a finger at her, I shout, "You don't get to  talk to him like that, okay?"

"Who are you to talk to me like that?" Mother asks, getting up and meeting me at my side. She's intimidating up close and mystifying from afar. All in all, she's confrontational. We're a lot like.

 "Your son," I growl. "Which Aero isn't. Leave him out of this. I wanted answers, not him. You don't get to act like you can boss him around when you only came back because you needed money."

 As soon as I utter the words, my mother slaps me with a hot sting, my face jerking sideways. "Don't you talk to me like that

" I swallow my anger and stuff my ready-to-punch fists in my pockets. I turn to Aero."Aero, why don't you go hang out with some friends or something, okay?"

 "Enzo..."

"Go," I demand. "I'll be fine..." I smirk. "I'm always going to be fine." 

 With an approving nod from his father, Aero leaves the table before whispering a"thank you" in my ear. With an attentive father and an intense closeness with my mother, Aero leaves the house. Once the door closes, my mother sits down beside me. 

 "Is there an uncle I don't know about who had the twins?" I inquire. 

 "Ezio..." my mom hisses to my father. 

 "It's alright," he assures, lifting his hand. "He can know, Alessa. He's an adult, now."

 In this case, I can see how Aero is like our father: the sun. I can also see how I am like my mother: the night. 

 "Enzo, my boy," my father says. "When I was eighteen, I had twins. They were mine and your mother's. There was a problem with their birth; they were incredibly premature. It affected them for the rest of their lives. During a crucial development stage, some mainline arteries were unable to grow and instead stretched to the point they ruptured. We took them to Giovanni as fast as possible, but it was too late. Their blood type was rare: AB negative. There were no available donors and they passed. Gio took it to heart by being emotionally involved. After they died, I fell into a stage of...depression, I guess; isolation and pain. He blamed himself and committed suicide. If I had never have brought them to him, maybe he wouldn't have killed himself."

 After he finishes his explanation, my father sighs and rubs his temples with emotion. There's something about it that seems familiar to me: the way he goes about displaying his emotion.

My mother rubs my dad's hand. "Oh, Ezio. Look at what you've done, Enzo," my mother blames me. "Look. This is why you mind your own business!" 

 "This was my business," I argue. "My Uncle Giovanni killed himself because my dad had premature twins, who were my sisters. That sure sounds like my business, mother." 

 "Out," she demands, furious. "I want you out of this house – forever. Clean your room up and leave." 

 "Mom, you're being ridiculous," I tell her like it's a fact because it is. "You guys are my parents – don't kick me out because I have questions about my family history when it splattered on the walls of a morgue!" 

 "I don't care," Alessa – not Mom – says. "You've already been staying with some other girl. How much do you pay her an hour, huh?" 

A searing hot flame ignites in the pit of my stomach. "She's not a whore, Alessa. I don't think she's ever even had sex." 

"So what is she? Your toy, a pet, an object?"

 I dig deep into my pocket for two reasons. One, so I don't hit my own mother; and two, to show her something. I latch onto a small box and flip it open to show my parents. "This is what she is, Alessa." 

 My father and his wife flick their eyes to the ring in the box. "Enzo, where did you get money for that?" Alessa interrogates. 

 "Doesn't matter. I'm moving out, so it shouldn't concern you." I turn away to collect some items from my room that actually mean something to me. I leave the drugs in my secret compartments, so when Aero moves out, I can call the cops and report that my parents are involved in some bad, bad stuff. I believe the correct term is "framing." 

 After I gather my things, I storm out the door. On the porch, I surprisingly find Aero on the bench. "Where are you going?" he asks me. 

 "You didn't hear?" I ask.

 "I did," he admits with a small shrug. "I was just being polite." 

 "Always are, baby brother," I comment, slipping on a black jacket. I reach inside for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I inhale and exhale. "You've got to learn something," I tell him. "You can't always be like this." 

 "Be like what?" Aero questions, cringing at the smoke.

 "Passive," I explain. "Calm, nonchalant. You've got to stand up for yourself every once in a while."

 "Thank you for what you did back there," he gratifies me, gripping my shoulder. 

 "I'm supposed to be a dick to you; not some woman who didn't even give birth to you. If someone tries to bully you or kick you around like a toy, don't put up with it. You don take shit like that, got it?"

"Yeah," he agrees. "Where will you be staying?"

 "Where I've been staying..." At the house of the girl, you used to like.

 Aero nods and stands as I stand. "What did you show Dad and Alessa that shut them up? When they asked about Reyna?"

 "If she says yes, you'll see," I tease, ruffling up his hair.

 Aero's mouth drops open and his eyes grow wide. "You're going to...propose?" 

 "We'll see," I answer. "Now go be a normal teenager and hang out with some people."

 "Alright," he agrees, though not wholeheartedly. 

 "Aero," I state, rolling my eyes. 

 "Okay, fine. I'll go out tonight...and if you don't mind me asking, why are you nice to me all of a sudden?"

 "Everyone's dying," I bluntly state, finishing up my cigarette and tossing it on the not-so-welcome mat. "So you might as well cherish the living, right?" 

 Slowly, Aero nods. "Yeah." 

 "You're alright, baby brother. You're alright." 

 And just when things started to heal between us, a black car screeches by with a rolled-down window. An arm reaches out with something in the hand. What is it? Four bangs explode as the wall behind us tears to shreds. Almost as soon as it appeared, the car vanishes. 

"Holy shit!" I scream, sprinting down the driveway to see who was trying to shoot us. 

"That was close. Aero, are you okay?" I hop up the stairs as the porch comes into view. Blood splatter stains the white wall and Aero slumps to the ground, holding his chest."Aero!" Sprinting, I slide across the wood-panelled floor and cradle his head, applying pressure to his gunshot wound, which spills crimson fluid. "Aero, it's going to be okay. You hear me?" 

But it's not going to be okay. The bullet went through to his heart. There's no point in calling an ambulance. They can't save him; only act as they can try. 

Aero's eyes are wide and he gasps for air. Trembling, his hand reaches into the air, palm exposed. I grasp his hand, hot tears pooling my eyes. "Aero, I'm here, okay?" Aeroclasps my hand with scary strength and his lips tremble.

"I love you. I've always loved you, brother," he whispers as a tear down his face.

"I'm so sorry for all the things I've done. I'm going to find whoever did this and kill them. Do you hear me? I'll kill them for you."

"Please," Aero begs. "Don't. Let things go..." Aero's voice is but a whisper; a faint croak.

"Promise me you'll let it go."

"How can I?" I ask, shaking and holding his hand. "Aero, I love you. They can't just take you from us. I need you, Reyna needs you, we all need you." 

 "Let go, Enzo," Aero demands, grip on my hand slipping. "Let go..."

 "Aero?" I softly call as his hand lets go of mine and fall to the floor. "Aero." Now, I demand his attention. Reaching and feeling for a pulse, I find none. "Aero, I'm so sorry," I apologize, shutting his baby blue eyes. "I'm so sorry, it's all my fault," I confess, hugging his bloodied body close to me. "Everything is my fault; this shouldn't have happened to you."

"What the hell?" Father asks, surveying the scene. When his eyes fall on Aero, he's unmoved. He just watches with a slack jaw and emotionless eyes.

Alessa comes out next. "This is your fault, Enzo! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!" With that, she slams the door back inside. She's probably more upset about the blood on the porch than the death of Aero King.

"Dad," I manage, tears pooling in my eyes. "Dad some guys just drove by and shot, I don't  know –"

"Get out," he coolly demands, blue eyes steely and not nearly as soft as Aero's. When I don't move, he repeats what he says, but with more edge. "Get out of here. Leave...now." 

"I'm so sorry..." I echo, only able to say that.

"Oh, please, Enzo," my father spits. "You hated him."

"Not at the end," I admit. I glance back over to Aero's lifeless body. "Not at the very end."

Before my dad can tell me to leave again, I take a last look at my dead half-brother before taking off. My mind is blank yet totally functional. It's blank about Aero. My mind is compartmentalizing and shutting out what just happened. However, all I can think about is my dad and how he reacted when he explained Uncle Giovanni's suicide and when he saw Aero's dead body. Something about him just seems so familiar... 

Abruptly, I veer off the road and whip out my cellphone. I go to the Google Chrome app and type in the search engine what I suspect of my father. 

Is psychopathy genetic?