***This is my short fictional story for English. It have many mistakes in it as it has not been revised yet. Let me know what you guys think***
I guess being the youngest CEO of a fortune 500 company means nothing at all, unless you can share it with someone close to you. On the other hand, have the intellectual capability to know when I am being deceived for all that I have in the name of blind affection. I was only fourteen when my father was killed during a car accident. I was on the back seat of our Cadillac Eldorado. I remember when he first brought the year 2000 version as soon as it came out. It was the best car out at that time… at least for the rich it was.
Being luxurious and spoiled, my dad taught me to drive the car at the age of ten, when it was first purchased. However, I distinctly realize how bad of an idea that was when I crashed the car into our $2000 dollar statue of mom. She died during birth and even though I do not remember much, of whom she is as a person or how I should feel toward her. Nevertheless, breaking the statue and seeing my dad’s expression I realized what a mistake I just made. I remember how his eyes went from the caring smiling father he was to one of rage, sadness and anger. He had never screamed at me, not even in that day; but he told me to go to my room with no questions asked with such sadness that I was scared of what I had just caused. He was near tear and his voice quivered as he ordered the caretaker, an old 49-year-old Caucasian male with no hair and average built, to clean up the mess. After that day, I was never allowed to drive or ride in the same car as my dad. That is until my fourteenth birthday. It was June 7, 2003. Instead of the day being bright and shiny, it was somewhat of an odd day. It was foggy and rainy. On the weather, it said that Manhattan would be under a severe thunderstorm. I was supposed to go out to get my last karate lesson done that day and the chauffeur called in sick. I knew he was not sick though. He was just a lazy Indian who was afraid of a little thunderstorm.
My dad finally decided to take me to my class in lower Manhattan. I was ecstatic. My dad finally taking me to drive again, after 4 years of not being able to drive with him. There was only one condition though: I cannot sit in the front with him. I was happy to oblige as I can go out with my dad again, not knowing that sitting at the back actually saved my life. As my dad turned the corner from 43rd and 7th avenue, a truck came out of nowhere crashing the front of the Cadillac. I was safe as the truck came from a perpendicular intersection only hitting the front section of the car. However, I could not say the same thing for my dad. The violent shock and trauma caused me to black out.
Next time I woke up, I was in a white bed with yellow walls. I had no idea what is going on. I had no idea for how long I passed out. I had no idea why I was even passed out. But as the clock above my head went tick-tock, tick-tock things started to get clear. I remember the car crash and tried to get up frantically only to discover the gash on my head and the IV on my left arm. Then I notice this dark skin person in a lab coat holding a clipboard. I thought he was here to kill me, so I screamed for my life only to find I cannot. I was too thirsty to even scream or whisper. He stood calmly, not saying a word until I have relaxed myself a little. Then he introduced himself as Doctor Han, my physician. Apparently, during the accident, my head has bashed against the left side window causing me to lose consciousness. It have also damaged my left cerebrum causing my creative side to fade somewhat. However, my motor and auditory are functioning well and surprisingly boosted my logic problem solving ability. Doctor Han said it was a work of miracle or a freak of nature. I can choose to call it whatever I want. After he has finished his lecture, he finally allowed me to drink water. After my thirst was perched, I finally asked about my dad, already dreading for the worst but hoping for the best. With my need of bad luck, I learned that he had died in that accident the moment the truck collided with Eldorado. At least, he did not feel any pain. He died as his head was crushed and separated from his body due to the colossal force impacted upon him.
I believe I fainted again because the next thing I remember was that I was back in my old room. My old familiar room, with its blue bed-sheets velvet curtains and carpets, and my own 60-inch television playing an old episode of Pokémon; but none of it mattered. Knowing my dad left me alone in this world, I wanted nothing of those. I remember picking up a bat signed by Babe Ruth, and used it to crush my television. Ash never did get to catch that Pidgeotto, at least not in my television. From that day on, my anger toward anything just came and went in impulse. I could not control it anymore, nor did I want to. It felt nice to destroy things… just as things destroyed my life.
Several months has passed since the accidents. I was named the sole owner of everything my dad had, which was millions of dollars in business. I suppose it is a good thing that he did not owe the bank any money as I will not be able to pay any of it back. Since I was only fourteen, I was given a caretaker to look upon me ‘till I turn eighteen. My caretaker was the house caretaker. The fifty-one year old mildly built white male. However, since the accident, it seemed like he has aged several decades instead of just four years. Suppose that accident has affected him more than I thought, as I later found out, George- his given name- was a close friend to my father. Out of respect and for his sacrifice to take care of a fourteen year old, I started to call him Uncle George, or even sometimes UG whenever I am being lazy. He taught me how to drive and the world of business. I was quite surprised at how such a brilliant man became a house caretaker. When I asked him, why does he not create his own business, he replied with “Ya’ dad hath helped saved me life, and I owe to him to save ya’s.”
I had no idea where he was from or where his accent came from. Even when I ask about his origin, he says, “Ya’ll learn if ya meant to. Don’tchya worry kid, time tell ya whatchya needed to know.”
As I was homeschooled since the accident, I learned that I was learning the world of business at a much faster and proficient way than if I went to an actual high school. UG had so much knowledge about everything that I did not need to go anywhere else for help. I graduated from high school at the age of 16. At that time, Uncle George asked me in if I wanted to major in business like my dad or go see the world on my own. With earnest, up until at that point I thought I wanted to be like my dad but with the option given, I chose to study philosophical psychology and travel the world. Uncle George agreed with me without hesitation. I should have guessed he might have had another agenda, but at that moment, I was too overjoyed to care about anything else. I went to Columbia University. Being in the center of the city, it was my idyllic choice to attend to. Getting into was not that difficult. For one, I was heir to multi-million dollars as well as finishing high school by the age of sixteen. I did not even need their financial aid or scholarship, even though they offered to pay for full tuition. Instead, I request if they can give that tuition money to someone who is equally brilliant but does not have the money to attend. The courses were amazingly interesting, and the college life was rather intriguing. It was a completely new way of living for me, interacting with strangers, going to party and developing my social skills.
Graduating from college at the age of twenty with major in psychology and world affair, I decide to travel to United Kingdom to attend Oxford University for my graduate. I lost my interest in philosophy in the first year of my college and took interest in world affair, as I wanted to see if the world is like my college life; full of interesting and amazing things to do. At Oxford, I met the person I believed I was going to spend my life with. Her name was Anita Brown, from France, short yet elegant and has the sweetest voice in the world. Her mere voice was enough for me to throw down everything and just assist her to whatever she needs. Therefore, when she asked me to travel to France with her to meet her parents, I immediately left with her. Sadly enough, that ended my Oxford hope as I left in the middle of spring semester final.
France was indeed beautiful at this time, with flowers blooming and the city just seems to breathe life. Everyone appears honest to their heart and always greeted strangers with a smile. These behaviors are strange in NYC and it baffled me a little, but I enjoyed it a great deal. Her parents were nice to me as well. Mr. and Mrs. Brown lived in the outer part of France, in a village with flower gardens and farms surrounding them. The view was so amazing, I decided to spend the spring and summer with them. At night, Anita and I would stay out on their two story building’s rooftop and stare at the midnight sky watching the stars come to life, something I was not able to do in New York.
At the end of spring, and beginning of summer I asked Anita to become Mrs. William. It was on the day of my twenty-first birthday and the very same day my father left me after that accident. Everything slowed down. The birds stopped singing their tune. The breeze stopped. Everyone stopped moving. All that concerned me was she and she only. I felt her heart slowing down. Fearing the worst, I glanced down, trying to hide the tears that were inevitable. Then I glanced back up at her, expecting a no. All I saw were tears in her eyes. Thinking they were tears of rejection, I turned to leave. That is when I noticed it. Her smile; that beautifully sculpted smile not even Davinchi can create. The smile that can lit up whole of France on a moonless sky. Overjoyed with her response, I treated the whole neighbors of Mr. and Mrs. Brown to a feast in France. The price was nothing compare to what I was feeling then.
After spending the summer with the family, I flew Anita and I back to New York, the big apple. We bought a condominium in East side Manhattan, overlooking the Hudson River. We had our own view of the sunrise and sunset. Nevertheless, fun seems to end then. I had to return to my dad’s business. I return to see Uncle George has become a money-thirsty monster. His expensive silk suite, glimmering black hair at the age of sixty, and solid gold watch he was not the man I left the company in charge of; surprisingly enough, his accent was gone too. He was able to speak English without mistakes and mispronunciation. “Welcome back, Mr. William.” He referred to me by my last name. “How was your study abroad? I heard that you brought back an exotic present from France.”
Shocked at his greeting, I screamed “She is my wife and if you do not like her then you are FIRED Uncle George!” He was clearly satisfied by me response as he kept on smiling.
“Oh son, you cannot fire me, I own half of this company now. The other halves are merely my puppets. You have no control over it. Soon your little present from France will be mine too,” were his reply.
Outraged, my right fist connected with his teeth directly, landing him three feet behind on the corner of his desk. He was still smiling as his two front gold teeth fell off. I returned home with bloody knuckles. Anita’s first reaction was to ask what was wrong, but at first, I pushed her away. Seeing the tears in her eyes, I held her close explaining what happened. We had no money at this time. Deciding to sue Uncle George for frauds, I pick up the phone but instead it just started ringing. Picking up, I realized it was George and Anita put the phone on speaker. “Even if you try to call any lawyer for legal helps, it will not help. Remember that you left me in charge of the business when you left for your fancy study. I have legal control. The only way you can get anything back is from my death, but that WILL NOT happens anytime soon. I will make sure to change that too, before I die. UNLESS I DIE OUT OF NOWHERE IN THE NEXT FIVE DAYS! Enjoy what you have while you can. Until next time, bye Mr. William and his prize toy. Hahaha.” The phone hanging as it was, continuing BEEPing.
That night, we spent sleepless- tussling and turning. We both tried to comfort each other, but with no success. The following Tuesday was a bright and sunny day, but neither of us wanted to go out. We just stayed in different rooms, pondering upon what just happened. Tuesday came and passed. So did Wednesday. Thursday was a gloomy day. Rainy and thunderstorm all day in the midst of September; just like our life, the weather outside was chaotic. Anita left the house, deciding to take a walk in this storm. I tried to stop her, but she stormed out before I could say anything. The afternoon turns to evening, only letting me know through the cable box clock. The day outside still stayed as gloomy and dangerous as ever. Evening turned into night. Worried, I tried calling her, only going to voicemail. As I was about to call the cops, the electricity went out. With my cell phone out of charge, I had no other option but to wait. Thursday ended and Friday was finally announced by a brightly glorified morning. The sun shined brightly and the day smelled like clean grass just cut. The aroma was intoxicating, calling everyone out. Everyone except me. I could not leave my house. I could not even move from my single chair facing the door, dreading for Anita to come home. Friday ended eventually and the sun rose one more time for Saturday. Finally, the phone rang. But the caller ID read it was from NYPD, not Anita. Afraid that George has finally taken my house from me too, I picked it up.
“Is this Mr. William?” the person on the other side asked.
“Yes, it is. Who is this?” I replied with a quivered voice.
“This is the NYPD.” No shit, I thought, it showed up in my called ID. The voice continued, “We have some tragic news for you. It appears that your wife and your uncle were found dead at his house. It appears that they had some form of argument that led to physical struggle. There was a gun shot on Mrs. Williams and a knife was stuck on the neck of your Uncle. We do not exactly know what has happened, but we need you for some questioning. Please arrive at the police station on Monday by 8 AM. We will let you know if we discover anything new by then. Thank you and sorry for your loss”
That is how I learned the death of my beloved wife. From a stupid phone call that could not even, show any sympathy. I had no idea how I should have felt then. I just felt empty. Broken, like nothing else matter. I already know what has happened. Anita went over, trying to talk George over giving the company back. She sacrificed herself so I can be rich again. It has been two years since her death. I am the richest CEO of some company that means nothing to me. I have lost everyone that matters to me, but living for them. Living, fulfilling their dreams so their death did not go to any waste. Even though I am rich, the money means nothing. Spending my time just traveling and drinking, I realized my life has always been an abyss from hell. The angel from my life was taken away from me with only memories of what we shared…
