Life, Yet another story Options

[Sa-Chan]

Okay...this story is much deeper than my other one. Also, I've been working on it for a long time. Here's the first chapter. Yes! It has to do with the mob again ^^(). Anyways, I'll post some fantasy stories up soon. Make sure to check back on my "A Story" only two more chapters and an epilogue and that story will be done ^^.

Anyways, enjoy.

Oh, and steal this and you die...<<

Oh, and this and my other story have nothing to do with eachother besides the girls name


LIFE
By: Savannah Elise Harrison

Chapter One:


“Today really sucked,” I whispered into the darkness.

When I say today sucked, I mean it, more than anything. It’s just pointless dragging on. Living for something that’s not really there; it’s gotten so bad that these days when I wake up…my first thought is to go right on back to sleep. These days…I never even want to wake up, because when I dream…I escape.

“Today really sucked,” I said it again, louder now, for no apparent reason, it wasn’t like anyone could hear me.

It hadn’t just been today that had sucked though, it had been the last few years. Things had been terrible ever since I found their bodies. Why did they have to die? Why? Why did they have to die…with their guts falling out of them…?

“Why didn’t I just die…?” I balled my pale hands up into fists and slammed it hard against the wall.

I screamed…my hand had hit a stud in the wall; I couldn’t even take my anger out on an inanimate object properly. I could feel the tears; they had been welling up for a long time, now they were spilling. The cold, salty trickles of water splashing down my blank face.

I wiped my face quickly. No…I wouldn’t cry I wouldn’t be weak; I had to hold the pain back. I looked in the mirror, and stared at my face. Black circles rimmed my eyes, I needed to sleep more. My hair was straight, blonde and boring. My eyes were a deep blue; they could have been beautiful if they didn’t hold so much pain.

I walked out of the sophomore bathroom. The last bell had rung thirty minutes ago. I had missed the bus…I’d be walking home today… Tugging my backpack a little closer to my lower back, I walked through the abandoned halls of the high school. The gray, metal lockers were the only things left to keep me company.

I pushed open the heavy front doors, and exited the school; my private prison. Clunking down each of the steps, I stared at my feet. I could feel the sweat already gathering on my face. It was so hot…and my usual black attire wasn’t much help, but at least it helped me hide from the world.

Pulling my CD player from the back pocket of my backpack I pulled the headphones over my ears, and clipped it to my pocket. I cranked the music up, and drowned the sounds of the world out with the song “I Miss You” by Blink 182.

I moved my lips, mouthing the lyrics of the song as I began my long walk home. My feet knew the way, so I closed my eyes, and staying to the farthest side of the sidewalk so the branches of the trees shaded my skin from the scorching sun, tried my hardest to relax. I wondered if my foster parents had even noticed I wasn’t home, they probably didn’t even care, but they’d yell at me none-the-less.

I groaned inwardly. Why was I even going home? Home…why did I even call it that? Home was the place you went to when you were loved by the other people in the house. I wasn’t going home…I was going to a house. I had once had a home…It felt so long ago, though. I’d begun to forget what it was like. I’d begun to forget all of it…all of them. The only image that was sharp in my mind…was their death.

The song changed…I barely even noticed, I was too lost in thought. Minute after minutes passed, song after song. I was walking, but I didn’t notice it. Another song, and another, I faintly recall singing a long. Faintly…or maybe it was just a daydream. My mind was lost in another world, another time; my body just happened to be stuck somewhere else.

The man held a gun to the head of a young woman, her age had to have only been in the early thirties. At the man’s feet was the body of another man, the woman’s husband. A child was huddled in the corner, blood matted in her hair from a head wound. The woman spoke quietly, the man pulled the trigger and the woman fell.

“MAMA!” the child screamed, and the man rounded on the little girl.

I opened my eyes. My body was covered in a chilling sweat now, I sighed a bit. Memories were painful…that memory always came back…their faces…the blood…the chaos…everything. I never saw the end of the memory…it always ended as the child…no, as I, yelled. Why was I still alive…?

I rounded the corner, and walked into an apartment building. Hauling my aching body, and my backpack up three flights of stairs I came to an old door which was covered with peeling paint. Tarnished letters were on the door; “Room 3C”. I quickly cut off my CD player, and crammed it into my backpack before knocking tentatively on the door. No one answered; I let out a sigh of relief.

I took a keychain from my pocket, and grabbing the only key attached to it pushed the key into the lock, and turned it sharply. I heard the click, the door was open. I pulled the keys from the lock, twirling the doorknob sharply, and pushing my foot against the door I was able to open it with minor difficulty. The door really needed to be fixed…

I walked through the kitchen to a small room without a light bulb. My room…I tossed my backpack in the corner and opened the window. The sunlight was beginning to fade…I’d have to light some candles soon or I wouldn’t be able to see at all. I reached for a pack of matches on my bedside tables and lighted the five candles in my room.

I flopped down on my bed, I really should have been doing homework…but I just didn’t feel like it anymore. I let my weary eyes close, and began to sink away into my own little dream world. My dream world…the world I could escape into. I needed to escape so badly…

I’m not sure how long I dozed off for, not long I don’t think, but before I knew it I could hear the screaming of my foster mother. I groaned a bit, and crawled from my bed. Why couldn’t she just let me sleep?

“Coming,” I groaned, and pushed my creaking door open, coming face to face with Catherine, my foster mother.

“Elise, you haven’t done your chores…” she wrinkled her nose in disgust as she looked at me, “My husband and I have gone out on a limb fostering you, the least you could do is do a few chores we ask of you.”

“Yes, Ma’m…” I said, my voice faint, I made sure not to catch her eye, I made sure to keep my voice blank, but the whole time what I really wanted to say was, ‘I never asked you to foster me, I would have been happier in an orphanage…” but I held my tongue.

I walked passed her, our shoulders ramming into each other’s even though I was a few inches taller than she was. I always held my tongue…why…? Why not just yell at her, scream at her, hit her, anything! It would get me away from this place…away from everything…

I spent hours working under her orders; she kept her eyes sharply on my progress, pointing out when I made even the slightest mistake. She worked me until my body hurt, and finally when her husband, Alexander, came home he dismissed me from my work.

“Hey Alex,” I said casually, and he gave me a warm smile.

Alex had been the one who wanted to foster me. He had told his wife that he’d always longed for a little girl, and as the two couldn’t have children of their own adopting was their only chance; he hadn’t become my father yet, but he was a friend at least…

Alex gave me the look I had grown to be able to read. Go to your room, hide, now. I nodded slightly, and walked from the room, heading to my small, cramped bedroom once again. I could hear their argument; most of it was about me…poor Alex, he was a good man…he didn’t deserve this.

I blew each of the candles out, and lay back on my bed. I tried to get comfortable, I didn’t want to sleep, but there was nothing better to do. I began to pull my CD player from my long since discarded backpack, but thought better of it. Alex had given me the CD player when we first met, on the sly…not letting Catherine find out about it. I had to keep it well hidden from her at all times or she would take it away.

So I stared dimly at the ceiling of my room, and began to recite lyrics of my favorite songs in my head. Nothing would ever get better; I would never escape my nightmares. I live my nightmares…I dream them…I saw them, awake or asleep. I would never escape…except for those few good times when I had dreams…real dreams…not nightmares that came back night after night. Tonight wasn’t one of those nights though…

The doorbell rang sharply, and I looked up from the kitchen counter. Mommy had cooked one of my favorites tonight; so of course I was smiling.

“Who could that be?” my father asked, looking up from his newspaper, he folded it and placed it down on the floor. Standing he crossed the room to the door, and opened it.
If only he hadn’t…

BANG!

The noise was sharp, I cowered slightly. The shot of a gun had just gone off. I saw blood shoot from the back of my father’s head, and he fell to the ground; a man, younger than my father kicked sharply at my dad’s rib; no response…dead.

The man’s face was a blur…I had been too young…I just couldn’t remember…Couldn’t remember the face of my own private devil.

“YOU!” the man’s voice was firm; cruel…he was addressing me.

I fell from my chair, scrambling away; the chair fell back and hit me. I could feel it break the skin, blood covering my hair. I screamed in pain, and crawled to a corner, cowering in fear.

A young woman came running from the next room. Her beautiful, black hai swirling around her…my mother…

I couldn’t see her face either…my faceless mother from long ago. An angel, taken from me…

“P-please…what do you want…I have money…” my mother’s eyes fell to her husband’s dead, bloodied body; she let out a strangled cry and placed her hand over her mouth.

“I don’t want your money…” the man was gruff, “I just want you dead…just like your husband here.”

“P-please…I beg of you…” my mother spoke again.

“Sorry, too late to beg…you never should have messed with the mob. Now why don’t you just die!” the man spoke, and pulled the trigger of the gun. My mother fell to the ground, her blood splattering on me. I looked at her…the skin had been ripped from her face. I could feel myself retching, tears running down my face.

The man turned to me…his gun poised, ready to shoot, for a brief moment I could see his face…so familiar…

I woke up, crying out; the dream had gone on longer this time. My body was covered in a cold sweat; I whimpered and hugged my pillow. Two words ran through my head over and over again. The mob…My parents had been involved with the mafia?