Chapter 1
Andi the Invader
Suddenly, in that moment, I heard a distant noise and felt compelled to look above me. I raised my head to the sky and saw an assortment of rubble quickly falling, its trajectory surely determined to decimate my skull. I instinctively lifted my arms above my head, shut my eyes, and..."Andy? Are you okay?" After a few seconds, I managed to open my eyes and look around. Seeing my friends staring at me from the entrance to the abandoned building, I realized one thing for certain. I had somehow traveled to the past.
~
When I was a baby, I slept in a crib like any other baby would. And like most babies, my crib had a mobile above it to keep my attention until I fell asleep. My mobile was made up of lavender birds chasing each other in a circle with a plethora of yellow stars surrounding them. I also remember one of the first toy sets I received. It was made up of several miniature cars‒apparently popular ones from that year‒that I really didn't know how to play with properly, being so young. But, even though I remember various trivial things like that, there's two very important things I forgot.
In 1972, I lost my big brother Andrew in a car accident that took both his life and the life of my mother, Angelica. I was only three years old at the time, so I don't really remember either of them that well. Isn't it curious how things like that work? I could remember long-gone objects I owned but I found myself unable to remember the shapes of their faces. What I do strongly remember were the years that followed their deaths. In some of the most formative years of my life, my father Andrew was wracked with grief. How could he not be? I mean, in one fell swoop he lost two of the three loves of his life. So, for the next six years... it was really hard for the both of us. The act of living life wasn't a struggle as we were fairly affluent‒especially so from the sum of my mother's life insurance‒but money can't mend a broken heart. It was then that in the eyes of my father, fate seemed to align.
My name is Andrew Ardio. Yes, an apt observer would've noticed that I share my name with my father and late brother. Likewise, my grandfather also had the same name. My brother, Andrew Ardio III, was to be the heir of our patriarchy. I mean, realistically, those times where our family had status had come and gone, but our father still clung to the memory of them. So, in being the eldest son, my brother was treated with the sort of respect and dignity that a grown man would receive. The highest respect was being able to wield the name "Andrew".
I didn't receive such a blessing, but it's not like I'm upset over it or anything. My father has called me Andy since I was born and so I've always gone by that name instead of Andrew, my birth name. It's a name I've always been happy with. After my brother died, my father became a recluse in his books and study. He became almost obsessed with the idea of prognostication and fate. He began researching the Western academic evaluation of pre-determination, and upon finding it to be lacking in regard to his beliefs, began looking into the occult. It was at the peak of his research that my life changed forever.
In 1978, our distant neighbors Daniel Diehl and his wife were murdered in their home in a burglary gone wrong. We lived in the same area as the Diehls but I had never met them. Apparently, my late grandfather had a corporate acquaintanceship with their family, so my father heard of their tragedy through a mutual business partner. There were two things that my father learned that spurred on the events of this story.
1. Daniel Diehl's wife had the same name as my mother, Angelica.
2. The Diehls had a son. His name was Andi.
And thus, to my father, the wheel of fate turned on.
~
Without me finding out about the process whatsoever, my father adopted the Diehl orphan as his own child. It was a shock to my entire world. What..? What do you mean..? A new brother? I couldn't accept it. Apparently, to my father, the Diehl's tragedy and him finding out about it was pre-destination. It was obvious to him. The stars were aligned. Two Angelicas, Two Andys. A lost son, a gained son. To him, it was natural that he took action and enveloped the orphan into our family. The day he broke the news to me was the day I met my new little brother. My father stood in the entranceway of our estate, a small figure holding onto him from the back. "Go on... introduce yourself to your new brother, Andi‒" Looking up from the boy, he looked over to me then back down. "Introduce yourself to your brother... Didi."
Names are powerful things. And with that sentence uttered by my‒ by our father, Andi Joslin Diehl had gained a new power. Andi Ardio, or rather, Didi, derived from the "Di"s in Andi and Ardio. Or, maybe, from the "Di"s from Ardio and Diehl? Either way, it would be confusing if there were two "Andy"s running around after all, and my father was a bit too prideful in our family's apparent nobility to let him be called just "Ardio".
Stepping out from my father's shadow was a frail boy, small in both posture and presence. Short blonde hair, both straight and shaggy but also neat, sat upon his head, which contained big, soft red eyes. For a family member, he looked comically different from my father and I. For example, we had styled, curly purple hair and strong blue eyes. Genetically, our shoulders were broad and our chests were wide. Meanwhile, Didi's entire abdomen was nearly concave and his tiny shoulders drooped down. He didn't look anything like us! How could I pass him off as a brother? No, no! This isn't my brother! My brother died years ago! This‒ this is just a scrap! Who is this!? Andrew Ardio? I think not! He's obviously an outsider. No way. No way!
I'm not sure why I was so opposed to the idea of him. Maybe my father's feelings about our family as a noble house rubbed off on me and I didn't want some "commoner" being suddenly placed into our ranks. Regardless, I unintentionally let my thoughts run a bit wild. The expression on my face apparently echoed the sentiments of my heart and I was glaring at Didi in surprise and a bit of disgust. He could obviously detect the disdain from my eyes and, letting out a submissive squeak, jolted back behind my father.
"Andy!" My father shouted out. Both Didi and I looked up at him, but he was only looking at me. "Don't scowl at your brother like that!" He said, taking the kid's hand and walking toward me. "I don't care whether you like it or not, but you two are going to be living under this roof together, and that's that. There's nothing that can be done about it! So you best get along!" He yelled, unconsciously pulling Didi's wrist in a rough manner. A whimper of pain shot his head down to look at the boy where he then fell to his knee, saying things like "Sorry, are you okay?" and "There, there, son."
Clearing his throat, he rose to his feet. "Now, Didi here will be taking the guest bedroom. Andy. Try your hardest to make him feel at home. He's been through a lot." I just looked up at him, then to my new brother, and lightly nodded, my fists balled up. He couldn't expect me to just accept this with open arms... it's nonsensical... but, I had at least accepted that it was happening. One thing sprung to my mind. Why is he taking the guest bedroom..? It was pretty small and on a different floor from our bedrooms. "But wait," I thought to myself... the only other bedroom he could realistically take would be Andrew's. And since he died... my father hasn't touched that room. He's left it as is, not even allowing the housekeepers to dust in there. He wasn't ready to let go of it. He may have gained a new living son, but his love for his dead one was stronger.
~
Time passed. And if it's like how they say, then time heals all wounds. Well, in my case, it actually did. My animosity at having a new kid, only a couple years my junior, thrust into my household eventually passed and I warmed up to him... eventually coming to view him as my brother. Where once I saw him as an invader upon my lifestyle, I now viewed him as a natural part of it. His perspective, on the other hand...
One of my biggest regrets was not remembering my big brother and mother. From what my father tells me, they showed me boundless amounts of love and affection every single day. I was their little prince and they made the first three years of my life feel like royalty... or so I'm told. In reality, I don't remember anything but fragments of distant memories. It's cruel the way our brains operate. If they had died only a few years later, I would've actually had solid memories to remember them by, but since they departed this world while I was still a baby, I had almost nothing. Instead of remembering the angle of their smiles and sound of their voices, I could only remember the rubbery grip of my child safe utensils and the general smell of baby powder.
My second biggest regret was greeting Didi the way I did when we first met. My father told me that he had been through a lot, and as time passed and I learned more about him, I realized that the way I introduced myself to him was unreasonably cruel. Unlike me, he was old enough to remember what happened to his parents. Hell, he was a first-hand witness to it. It went a little something like this: Late at night, after his parents had tucked him in with a hug and a kiss, he awoke to a strange noise outside his room. He was a pretty heavy sleeper at that age, so as I understand it, the noise must've been fairly loud. Tiptoeing to his door, he sneakily opened it a crack and peeped out where he saw two masked men holding shotguns.
They were creeping around in the dark, mumbling amongst themselves, approaching the bedroom door of his parents. Didi was a happy boy. He was an energetic boy, despite his weak body and anemia. He was a brave boy. But in that moment, he didn't quite understand why he couldn't do anything. He couldn't scream for help. He couldn't warn his parents. He couldn't distract the to-be killers. He was scared. How could he not be? He had never seen anything like that. He had never seen the front burglar slowly turn his parents' doorknob, and he had never seen the blast of fire that came through the crack in the door into the back burglar's stomach.
He recounted his father's voice shouting something out. "Get out! Get out now and you can still live!" Apparently, his dad kept a handgun in his bedroom and equipped it upon also hearing the loud noise. The injured burglar, now leaking blood and screaming, or groaning, or a mix of both, clutched his stomach as his partner raised his shotgun, put his finger on the trigger, and proceeded to humiliate the amount of fire that just penetrated his friend. There was a wet sound and then a woman's scream and another few gunshots. And then there was nothing but the groaning of the bleeding man.
"W‒what the fuck, Marlo!? I‒it, hhhnnnn, it wasn't supposed to go like thiiiis..!!!"
"I know man, I fuckin' know!! A‒are you okay? Shit, your stomach..."
"Do I fuckin' look okay!? Ggrraaahh... it hurts, man, it hurts!! I'm dying!!"
"You're not dying, man! Don't say that shi‒"
Then, in that split second... Didi remembered locking eyes with the man that just shot down his parents. He closed the door and stepped back, hands shaking. A brisk sweat fell down his brow as the two men continued speaking.
"...No way... I just... I just saw somebody."
"W‒what do you mean you saw somebody‒ gghhrkk..."
"I‒I just saw a kid looking right at me, from that bedroom there..."
"W‒who cares man!? I'm dying, I'm gonna die if we don't get out of here... come on... help me get back to the car..."
"N‒no man, no... think about what you just said..."
Didi's throat seized up as he quickly looked around his room. He was only seven years old. His door didn't have a lock. What could he do in this scenario? He pulled out a small chair from his desk and propped it against the door. It wasn't large enough to push under the doorknob to act as a lock. What could he do? They were going to kill him.
"W‒what? That we need to get to the car..?"
"No, no man! Think! Think, you fuckin' imbecile! God, you're such a fuckin' imbecile!"
"Whaaat? Don't call me that while I'm dying, man! What did I do!?"
Then, the man shouted. "You said my name!!! That kid heard it, for sure!"
The other man paused and then let out a yell that sounded a bit like a gurgle. "It wasn't supposed to go like thiiiiis!!! You told me!!! The guns were just for show!!! Mine isn't even loaded, you asshole!!! How did you even know these people had jewels, huuuh??? T‒this was a setup, man! You set me up!!! You murdered me!"
"Shut the fuck up! We're still alive and I didn't set you up! We can still get out of this, we just..." There was a pause.
Didi quickly scavenged around his room. What could he do? What could he do? Could he muster the strength to break his window? No, he didn't think he had it in him. Well, could he open the window? No, it was locked, and he didn't know how to unlock it. He looked around. His room was dark, so he had to blink rapidly to take stock of his options. He saw his mahogany shelf in the corner. He saw the red winter blanket at the foot of his bed. An idea surged to his mind as heavy footsteps began approaching his room.
"No, man, no... not a kid... y‒ghhh... you can't kill a kid..."
"I'll do anything if it means it'll prevent us from going to prison for life! Now get off of me, you're getting your blood all over me! Keep holding your wound, it'll increase your chances of survival. Now let me do this!"
"Marlo... you wouldn't..!"
"Quit saying my name! Now I definitely have to do it!"
"Fuck, man, fuck!"
There was the sound of a push then the sound of something heavy hitting the ground. Then, the sound of footsteps continued. "Let's make this quick, kid!" A sudden boom! was heard as the burglar's foot shot the door open. He stepped into the room, gun raised, and looked around. "Where are you, kid!? Come on out! We ain't gonna hurt ya, I promise." Didi heard him stalking around his bedroom. "There!" The man dropped to the ground, looking under the bed. There were some building blocks, but no Didi. He slowly opened the closet, pointing his shotgun at the interior of it. There were a bunch of clothes, but no Didi. He looked under the desk, where the chair once was. There was some dust, but no Didi. As he reached this point, he squinted his eyes, looking around the room more carefully. Then, Didi heard his saving grace.
Wee woo! Wee woo! The sound of sirens approaching the neighborhood jumpstarted both of the burglars' hearts. "A‒aaaagghhh!!! We gotta go, maaaan! Forget the kid! Get me outta here!" The man didn't respond and slowly blinked, looking around the blind spots of the room. "Come on, kid..." He mumbled, gritting his teeth. Then, he noticed something. Due to the placement of the window and the door, all of the corners of the room were extremely dark. He examined one corner from the entryway. Nothing in particular. He examined another corner. There was an extremely large plushie.
He let out a vague sigh and closed his eyes for a moment before approaching the stuffed bear. He must've figured that Didi opened the plushie, climbed into it, and was hiding in it as a last resort. The man stood above it, gun raised, and took a breath. He put his finger on the trigger and began to clutch... and then swallowed. His resolve wavered. Lowering the gun, he released a heavy kick into the bear and felt the lightness of stuffing. No, nothing... it wasn't the weight of a human. It was just a stuffed animal. Then, suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
He quickly turned and looked behind him. It was his partner, squeezing his shoulder while clutching his own stomach with the empty shotgun. "C‒come on... they're getting closer... we gotta goooo!" He wasn't lying. They were getting closer. Wee woo! Wee woo! Wee woo! The sound of the sirens had only increased in volume and they'd surely be at the house any second now. Marlo, the killer of Didi's parents, let out a roar and punched the wall. "Fine! Come on, let's go!" The two men quickly scurried out like the rats they were as Didi's heartrate slowed. The distant sound of an engine turning on was audible before the loud screech of tires signaled the car's getaway.
Didi threw the blanket off of him and dropped down from the shelf. When he looked around his room earlier, he too noticed that the corners were extremely dark. More than anything, the ceiling's corners were almost pitch black. So, he took the dark red blanket off of his bed and climbed to the top of his mahogany red shelf, covering himself in the blanket like camouflage. It was dark enough and blended in enough that the burglar didn't have time to habituate to the darkness and notice him up there. His quick thinking and natural affinity with object mechanics had saved his life... along with the neighbor who heard the gunshots and called 911.
He crept out of his room, making sure to avoid the light pool of blood in the hall‒seemingly from the man who was shot‒and approached his parents' door. It was cracked open and all he had to do was push it open to check in on them. So, he raised his hand, and... hesitated. He was scared. He was still scared. There were gunshots, then screaming, then gunshots, then nothing... they... they... they were okay, right? Didi was a smart kid. In the back of his mind, he knew the truth to this situation. His parents, they couldn't be... he opened the door, and...
This is where he reports his memory becoming especially fuzzy.
A lot of red. A sudden influx of police officers. Warm blankets. Tears and promises. Due to the severity of the crime in such a safe neighborhood, the investigation immediately began that night. A couple neighbors reported hearing a car shoot off. The police looked around but couldn't find anything of note. Though, scarily, a few days later some harbor workers called in a body. The police rushed down to the scene and found the corpse of a heavy-set man in the water. He had a gunshot in his stomach, which matched the gun that Daniel Diehl owned, and a number of shots in his chest, which matched the bullets that killed the Diehls. They were able to link this body to the blood found in the house, but shortly after, the investigation went cold. So, they brought Didi in and asked him for his testimony. They told him anything at all would be a major help. Anything at all. Anything small, anything weird, anything you saw, anything you heard. Didi told them just one thing.
"I didn't see anything."
Published Nov 17, 2025