Max POV
I woke with a start.
Beads of sweat raced down my forhead, making my hair stick to the sides of my face. It was hot, too hot. The heat radiated into my room, the air burning my skin.
I quickly threw off the covers, and ran into the hall. Immediately, smoke poured into my throat when I inhaled. Flames were licking the walls, crawling slowly up the staircase. Without thinking, I ran into my room and opened the window. I could feel the flames get closer when I jumped.
I was currently driving to Pheonix, Arizona. Apparently, I had an unknown aunt that lived out this way. Anne Walker. She has three kids, Ariel or Angel, Zephr or Gazzy, and Ignite or Iggy.
I was angry. Sad. Sorry. Difficult. And it was all because I had killed my family. Not litterally, but I still felt it was true. I was the only one that had gotten out alive. My beautiful sister, Ella, and always cheerful mother, Valencia Martinez, were dead. Yes, dead. Forever gone, never coming back.
No body knew it, but every night I would cry. I would cry for my loss. I would cry because I knew, deep down, I'd never see my sister again. I would cry because there would never be another lecture about how to clean cat fur the right way. I would cry because I was all alone. Being all alone isn't as choked up as it sounds. It's not a butt load of tears, or police turning up and asking you random questions. No. It's like having this giant hole in your chest. A hole that would never go away. It sat there as you ate, drank, slept, and walked. Always hidden underneath the surface.
Letting only one tear slip down my cheek, I rested my forehead against the window pane, and slowly nodded off to sleep.
"Max. Max, we're here." A voice whispered in my ear. I jumped up, knocking heads against the person who had been leaning over me. We both said ouch, glared at each other, and then got over it. That's how I was these days, not caring about a thing. If somebody ran into me, I would look at them, and then turn to walk away. Ever since they had passed on, I didn't see the point in arguing anymore. It just seemed stupid.
"You coming?" My social service's person name, I can't remember, asked me. I slowly followed her, dragging my suitcase behind me. The house was decent, two story. It had a little path leading from the driveway to the door, the front porch had two rocking chairs and flowers hanging from the ceiling.
Social service's person, let's name him Bob, rang the doorbell and almost immediately, shout could be heard from inside as loud footsteps rushed toward the door. Something crashed to the ground and another scream came from inside, then a middle aged women answered the door. A few stray blonde hairs stuck out from her bun and her caring looking blue eyes looked at both of us, her lips turning up into a smile.
"Hello. You must be Max. Come in, come in. Make yourselves at home." She said, gesturing us inside. A small hallway led almost straight to the stairs, to the right was the living room and to the left was the kitchen. Two doors stood in the back, and I guessed they were the dining room and cellar of some sort. Towards the back of the living room, an open door stood to reveal the laundry room. Light colors, greens, pinks, and oranges, scattered across the furniture, not really having a certain place.
"I know it's not much, but we find it quite lovely. Now, there's only three bedrooms, Gazzy and Iggy already share a room, so, you'll share with Angel. I'd be careful though, she loves pink. I hope you like it here as much as you liked your ol- *cough* Um... Why don't you go up? And I'll talk to, Henry."
So that was his real name...
I nodded, not saying a word, and walking up the stairs. Loud music came from the room to the left a the very end of the hall. I peered in to see two blonde teens dancing to BVB. I smirked, and then went to the room across the hall. I was almost blinded at how much pink was in there. Pink walls, pink bed, pink carpet, pink stuff animals, pink computer, pink... Well, everything. My mouth hung open. What th-
"ZOMG!" I jumped, startled, and turned around, getting into fighting stance. A young girl, a year or two younger than me, stood with a huge smile on her face. Her blonde hair and wide blue eyes fit her name perfectly as she stared at me, a curious look gathering in her eyes. Without thinking, I rushed past her and into the bathroom, making sure to slam and lock the door tight. After a while, I took out my small pocket knife and extended my arm.
I made a small cut just at the crease of my elbow and sighed. Even though it stung, the pain somehow took the grief away.(A/N: This is true. I was emo at one point and it felt so good to cut. But after a while, I wanted to stop, and yet... Couldn't. Finally, I burned my scissors and pocket knives and vowed to myself to never cut again. That was almost five months ago and I'm doing good!) Even thought I knew this wasn't the way to deal with my loss, I couldn't help it. Depression changes people.
Taking a small pen and notebook out of my back pocket, I began to write. It wasn't a poem. It wasn't a song. It was just something to express how I feel and what I blame myself for;
A New River
A new river forms,
As her tears cascade across the land.
Her heart broke, trashed and worn,
Lay as pudey in her hand.
Slashed right down the center,
Like a gash that can't be healed.
Revenge, so sweet and blissful,
Scattered thoughts across her head.
Now, just one last pistol,
And all this pain would finally end.
By: Maximum Alexandria Martinez
I finished the last word and sighed. Nothing felt better than to write away what I felt and cut away the pain I wished not to have. If only I could have my family back. If only I could growl at my sister one last time and snap sarcasticly at my mom. But none of that would ever happen now. My mother wouldn't see her oldest baby grow up. And her youngest baby no longer had a future. I wish I could take away that fire, then I wouldn't be here and my family would.
If only our home hadn't gone up in flame.
