My bones hurt, the pain in my head stayed the night and the pieces of my shattered heart roll across the floor. My home once filled with laughter and warmth now bare and cold. My parents left everything to money, cars, boats, this house and the company. My father was grooming my brother Quill to take over but now that they are all gone its passed down to me. The sun high as the clock struck twelve, I walked around the empty house reminiscing in the memories that had been made here. The kitchen where my mother would cook a feast every Christmas Eve, the smell of short bread and cinnamon flowing through the house. My father standing at the fire with Quill and me telling us Christmas stories. The nights I would wake up and go down stairs to see my parents dancing around the house. Lifting my
