Death is nothing new to me. Some people never get over it, but others kind of become immune. I’ve lost literally everyone in my family, except maybe a few second cousins that I’ve never met. My father to cancer, my mother to a mining accident, my big sister to war, my little sister to before she was even born. Two of my grandparents were dead before I was old enough to remember them, and the other two passed shortly after. I kept being passed around to uncles and aunts until all of those were exhausted too. From suicide to murder, it’s all happened to me. They call it the Eagle family curse, and it’s been haunting me my entire life. I eventually ran out of relatives, and had to get myself emancipated. It wasn’t even that hard. I didn’t have to do much to prove that I could support myself. All those family deaths left me several inheritances, and a couple of life insurance payouts. If I weren’t so careless, I could survive a normal person’s lifespan without having a single job, but I figured I wouldn’t last that long anyway. For the longest time, I would wait for the day the curse came for me. But then I realized that it wouldn’t be a very good curse if it wiped us out completely. An evil witch, or a dark wizard, from centuries ago would have programmed a sole survivor, so the bloodline could continue. I’m the lucky duck for this generation. I’ve never tried to kill myself, or anything, but a couple years ago, I started testing my limits. I became one of those daredevils you hear about that don’t record their stunts, or even get other people to watch. I tried all sorts of drugs, often without knowing what I was taking, and picked fights with people twice my size. Just like I thought, nothing would kill me. I’m invincible until I have at least one kid, which of course, I never plan on doing. I turned eighteen a couple months before Viola died, which brings us to the one significant experience I shared with her.
My self-destructive behavior has made me not so popular amongst my classmates. Not even the other wastoids want me around, which means I don’t have anyone that I can trust. It was Viola who drove me to and from the procedure. Well, she tried anyway. You have to be eighteen years old to get a vasectomy, but the fact that I set the appointment for my birthday, and hadn’t ever shown the maturity to make any healthy decision before, no doctor would agree to do it. I tried half the surgeons in Mineral County, but those sneaky snakes all play golf together, or whatever, so I never stood a chance. But Viola was a trouper. She kept calling for appointments, and driving me to the ones that at least agreed to a consult. In the end, I never got it done, but now I don’t think I have to, thanks again to Viola Woods. I don’t think she ever believed that my family had a curse, but it wasn’t in her nature to argue with people’s convictions. If I couldn’t get a vasectomy, than there was really only one option for me, according to her. I just had to never have sex for the rest of my life. Sure, I could try to just be celibate, but one drunken night sitting next to a pretty stranger at a bar, and I’ve just doomed an innocent child to go through what I did. I had never really put much faith in religion, but it was my last resort. After high school, I’m going to join a monastery. Being around other people who are in an exclusive relationship with God is the only way I’ll be able to get through it without screwing it up. I don’t know why, but Viola planned it all out for me. They’re already expecting me this summer. Here’s a picture of the place; isn’t it lovely? Maybe there isn’t really a curse at all, but if there’s even a chance it’s true, they are the only people I can trust to help. The only question now is, what am I going to do with all this money? Viola would know.
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