When I was 5 years old, my brother disappeared without a trace. And still to this day, no one knows what happened to him. The case was cold even from before my parents realized he was gone. The only thing I remember at that time was the fact that I was confused and didn't understand what was going on. And I never really got to ask about it, cause a few years later, my parents were killed in a car accident. I remember that night being the last time I cried. And from the age of 8 to 17, I lived in several different foster homes, having both trouble connecting with anyone, but also several parents that didn't feel like they were ready or could handle it. It's not like I was ever a problem child. But having lost my entire family within just a few years, I think subconciously, I just didn't wanted to be commited to or caring for someone else, only to have them taken away from me again. With all the moving around, I guess I was right.