## My Life ##

|On February 14th, 2004, I was born in Stavely, a tiny town in Alberta, Canada. I was the second child of Dallas Abiron and Faye Thomson. Younger brother to Amelia Abiron.

I’ve always found it strange that I took my mother’s name instead of my father’s. No one ever explained it to me, and I didn’t ask. My mother insisted, and that’s how it was. If there was a reason, I’ll never know.  

My parents were good people, my mother was a nurse, and my father was, ironically, a firefighter. My sister was about 5 years my senior, so she was just starting school when I was born.

My early years weren’t that interesting. We lived a short drive away from Stavely, in a nameless community. It was the type of place where everyone knew everyone, and quiet seemed to stretch across the plains for miles.

From the little I remember, and what I’ve heard, I have always been a quiet person. Even as an infant, I didn’t cry all that often. I don’t exactly have a lot of memories of these stages of my life, being so young. I feel obligated to be specific, to share as much about my past in this document as I can. You’re wasting your time reading it after all, I might as well. But my first years were truly uneventful.

Amelia’s probably the only person I really spent time with back then, aside from my parents. We played board games, watched cartoons, and fought over stupid things like siblings do. She was older by about five years, which meant she mostly tolerated me. Still, she was probably my closest friend.

And that’s about it for the first while of my life. Not much excitement. Pretty bland, really.

|The fire happened when I was six.

I was asleep when it happened. It was late in the night. The fire started in a conjoining house and quickly spread to ours. I don’t know what started the initial flame; I haven’t tried to figure it out either. I can tell you what I was told and what I saw.

I was told my parents probably didn’t suffer much. The firefighters found their bodies in the bed, charred beyond recognition. It happened fast. Too fast for them to get out.

Amelia woke me up. By the time I was fully awake, the fire had already reached my room. She dragged me out of the house before I could fully process what was going on. 

I remember sitting on the grass, watching the house burn. My eyes were stinging from the smoke. Amelia hit the ground beside me, coughing her lungs out. She’d inhaled too much smoke, dragging me out.

She got up and started leading me away. She never stopped coughing. It was another 20 minutes before we heard sirens. Amelia collapsed as soon as the paramedics spotted us.

It’s a blur from there. They loaded Amelia into a separate ambulance. 

The hospital was a blur. I don’t know how long I was there. Maybe a day, maybe two. They kept me there, but nothing was wrong with me. Eventually, child protective services came and dragged me out.

I didn’t see Amelia again after that. I guess they didn’t think a six-year-old should see another dead family member. I didn’t ask. I didn’t have to.

|I didn’t like foster care. For the next few years, I kept running away. I got caught every time. Sometimes right away, sometimes I’d manage to disappear for a few weeks. But at that age, I couldn’t take care of myself for long.

I often got dragged around by the foster system, that and the time I spent trying to get away from the foster system. It was an odd way to travel across the country. 

The foster system wasn’t terrible, all things considered. Sometimes I’d spend a few weeks in one place, either because I needed the break or they had sharp enough eyes to keep me there. I preferred the homes that didn’t seem to care too much, those were easier to slip away from.

School? That was something I mostly missed out on, being shuffled around too much to get properly enrolled anywhere. Not that I think I missed anything important. Of all the things I’m bad at, not knowing basic math hasn’t exactly hurt me in any way.

Sometimes I do wonder what life would have been like had I stayed at any of these foster homes. There was one I remember. It was a good home. The last home I ever stayed at for any amount of time, actually. The parents already had four kids of their own. I have no idea why they wanted to take in a foster child.

I hated it, in all honesty. Not because they were neglectful or abusive, they weren’t. They gave me as much attention and care as they did their own kids. I turned 11 while living there; they threw me a big birthday party.

I ran away about a week after the party. I couldn’t handle the attention being wasted on me. I stole some food and a couple of outfits. I felt bad about that.

|After I ran away, I spent the next several years homeless. I never stayed in one place for too long. I got used to sleeping anywhere I could, park, alleys, under bridges. Didn’t matter much where, If I was gonna freeze, I might as well try to be comfortable.

Finding food was easier than you’d think. Sometimes I’d just walk into a major grocery store or gas station, discreetly eat something while I was there, and leave. It’s not hard to get away with.

I didn’t interact with many people. Most didn’t notice me, anyway. On rare occasions, someone would offer a meal or a place to stay for the night. I usually turned them down. I never stayed with anyone, both because I didn’t want to intrude, and because I didn’t wanna end up on the news.

Those years blur together now. One day wasn’t much different from the next. I made it a point to keep moving. I stole frequently, and being a minor didn’t make that any easier. I had to dodge the cops more than once. A lot of citizens get concerned seeing a homeless kid around.

Eventually, I started drifting north. I didn’t plan it, but I wasn’t sticking around anywhere either. I was in British Columbia, the then I was stumbling up into the Yukon. It was easy enough to keep moving, and colder places felt less crowded.

Alaska was just the next stop. One border after another until I ended up there. By then, I knew how to get by. I wasn’t looking for anything specific, just more space to disappear into.

I wasn’t sure if I was going to stick around in Alaska, or where I was even going. I caught wind of a small town not far from where I was at the time.

I decided that town would be my next stop, so I started making my way there. A small town in the middle of nowhere would be a good place to rest for a while.

I’m talking about Twin Pines of course.

|I was an idiot. I ended up taking a shortcut towards Twin Pines. There aren’t a lot of paved paths towards the town. Would have taken me much longer time to take those.

I hiked through the woods, straight towards Twin Pines. I was in those woods for a few days. It was cold, obviously. If you wanna know how this ended, I’ll tell you. But there's also an official report in my file, 'Waltz' if you're curious.

I ended up a few miles behind Site-66. I obviously wasn’t aware that it was there, nor did I know anything about the anomalous. And then I ran into a group of soldiers.

I know now that it was a couple of Epsilon-11 RRTs, and a group of Nu-7, but then I just saw a few random soldiers. They detained me, though they weren’t unkind.  

They tried to question me, at the time I couldn’t get over myself, and wouldn’t speak to them. I suppose that hasn’t changed, not much.  

Then a 939 attacked us. That was my introduction to the anomalous. Getting mauled by one of those things. I’m still surprised I survived.

The MTF agents opened fire immediately, but they were too close. A lot of them got mauled on the spot. I probably should’ve died right there. Might’ve been smarter if they’d let me.

After that, it’s a blur. Probably from the blood loss. I remember the warmth of my blood pouring down my chest. I remember trying to help the mauled agents, trying to keep them stable. My medical knowledge wasn’t great back then, but I knew the basics.

Honestly, I’m amazed I lived. Our doctors are very good. I made it out without so much as a scar.

Finally, I ended up in a room with a Medical NCO known as ‘Oasis’. May he rest in peace. Guy had to have had issues. Instead of letting them give me amnestics, he convinced whoever was in charge to bring me in as a Medical Trainee.

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