Author: One Of Our Users
Type: Fan Fictions
Status: Coming Soon
I sat carefully at my desk, my eyes peering around the room, as if something were about to crash down from the ceiling and eat me alive which in truth was not as unlikely as you would think.
At least it didn't seem to be for me.
I couldn't explain it. Weird things just happened to me.
I was like a trouble magnet. I mean, I wasn't just some bad kid, but I wasn't a normal kid either. For example, take my first year in preschool when a man followed me around at the park, until a park security shooed him away. No one believed me when I said he had horns. Or the time a shriveled up old lady, had tried to pull me into her store before I had ran away and I could swear a pair of black wings hung from her wrinkled back.
Yea crazy stuff like that. And the fact that I was ADHD and dyslextic didn't help either.
I was only 7, in the second grade and was already labeled as a badgirl/troublemaker/rebel.
Suddenly a irratated voice brought me back to reality. Would you mind paying attention Miss. Chase? My teacher snapped.
Sorry sir. I say, forcing myself to pay attention to what was going on at the board. More numbers. Even as he began talking again, I felt myself losing interest. When the bell rang I was the first one out the door
I walk into my home, cautiously steping over the thresh hold. My dads probably in his office working with toy soldiers and what not, and my step mom is ussually in the kitchen. I throw down my bag and enter the kitchen to find my assumption was right as I see my step mother over by the fridge preparing dinner.
I peer over her shoulder and see the home cooked meal being made. It looked amazing with pork chops, mashed potatoes, gravy, biscuts, stuffing, turkey, and some buttered corn. As much as I hate to admit it, my step mother was a pretty good cook.
Its wasn't her cooking I disliked, it was her. Her and my father that is.
Once again I longed for my real mother. Maye she would have cared for me as this imposter never did.
Maybe imposter was the wrong word, even if thats what it felt like. My father and my real mother had met in an muesuem. My father worked with war history and such, and my mother seemed to have impossible knowledge over the subject. As if she had been there herself type of knowledge. They had only known each other for a few months when they had me. Then my mother left without giving dad or her newborn baby another thought.
I recall earlier discussions of mother. When I was little dad described her as a beautiful, but natrual woman and was in every way a genious. He said that he was entranced by her and she knew answers even he did not. Amazing, perfection, mysterious. This is how he used to tell me of her. Now he speaks of her as a evil witch with a pretty face, using her small amount of charm and then dumping him with a child.
When mother had tried to give me to father, he had refused at first and told her to raise me but she ran off so that he was stuck with me.
Yea forget it, my mom wasn't much of a parental figure either. At least my step mother was able to stick around.
Although it wasn't like she was here for me. She and my father had a son and they didn't need me anymore, not that they needed me in the first place.
I walk past to the stairs and climb them two at a time. I reach my room quickly and plop on my bed, glancing around at my bland bedroom. I didn't have an allowance so its not like I could do much decorating and even if I did have some cash, well what would I decorate my room with? I wasn't into sports, or celeberities or anything.
Yea, just another weird thing about me, the odd kid. They only thing I had going for me was my IQ. I just seemed to learn things, to understand things faster then others. I can't really explain it, but I'm thankful for it. Its not like I had anything else to be proud of.
And with dyslexia, it didn't matter how smart I was I couldn't spell well. All the letters just got mixed up in my brain and seemed to float around there refusing to line up like there supposed to. I've been told that mine is a severe case in which my step mother had sneered at my father. That was a favorite subject of my step mother. What my mother had done while she was pregnant to have such a messed up child.
She and my father had such a swell time drinking in the backyard and cracking jokes about me. Somehow they thought I never heard but of course I did. When I was younger, more vunerable, well didn't understand. Didn't understand why my freinds parents would pick them up and swing them around in bear hugs, plant kisses on their cheeks and look at them with such love you had to feel fuzzy inside.
It took me long, to long to realize that no matter how much I wanted it, my parents weren't ever going to go around hugging me. That was the sad truth. Age of five and already without parents to fall back on.
They adored my little brother though. He was their child, both of theirs. Perfect, a real child with no medical conditions. One who didn't ever have one strange or scary thing happen to him.
I hated him. And not just because of jealousy. He was as rotten as our parents.
I curl up in a ball, twisting my sheets around me. I don't know why but for some reason it made me feel safe. Like the thin layer of cloth would somehow protect me from the world.
It was to early to sleep. Only about 5:00, which meant I still had hours. Which sucked because sleep was alot more peaceful.
Perhaps a nap then, but suddenly I was so keyed up the thought of staying in bed a second longer was unbearable. ADHD again probably. I yanked the sheets off, and paced around my bedroom. Fater and faster in a circle until I was almost dizzy. I careened over to my vanity, and had to stop on a dime to avoid face-planting into my mirror.
Oh my step mother would have a huge laugh over that.
I look at the mirror and try to make sense of my reflection. I look normal enough. Tall and slender with long curly blonde hair and tan skin that suggests extended time in the sun. But even that was ruined by my stormy gray eyes, so out of place on my face.
Dinner! My step mother calls an hour later. I hear my brothers footstpes on the stairs and I patter down in my own light tread.
The smell of spices and cooking meat, infilitrates my nostrils and I wonder when I will get used to my step mothers delicous meals. Probably never.
The plates are already laid out and I take my seat quickly, wanting to begin eating as soon as possible. The food is passed out and I dig in.
Dinner ended and I went to clear away the plates and wash the dishes, under the keen eye of my step mother as she automatticallly assumed that I do everything wrong.
I glance at the clock and am pleased to see its a suitable time for bed. I finish drying the last of the dishes and hurry to my room, shuting the door tightly.
I yawn and crawl into bed, pulling the blankets up around me.
My father had some form of project at work so he was leaving every night this week. This upset me as even though me and my father didn't see eye to eye he was sure better then my step mother.
A while later, as I inched to sleep I felt something in the air. My eyes snapped open, and a strange presence seem to reside in the room with me. An evil presence. One that I usually got when there was...
Monsters. I whisper terrified, pulling my blanket up over my head as if to protect myself from what ever lay in such close proximinty to me.