Hi my name is Rymus you could say I'm possessed by a bloodthirsty being, but that would be incorrect. I am almost fifteen years old and I have been through hell and back. It all started ten years ago in a small cupboard under the stairs.
"Rymus get up! Get up!" Someone yells at me.
I bolt upright and hit my head on the corner of the tilted wall. I hate getting up especially if Annie is the one to wake me up. Annie is a oh-kay girl red hair and blue eyes. Good personality. The other thing that makes Annie oh-kay is that she doesn't hover. She leaves me to my devices. Annie's sixteen, she watches me when Mom and Dad work.
"Coming!" I yell back.
Annie is different from the other teenagers I've met. Annie is more laid back, she enjoys books and has so much knowledge on the supernatural things, like vampires, werewolves, ghosts, etcetera. Sometimes when Annie goes talking about a haunted house or another thing to do with the supernatural Mom would just shake her head and say "Only you, Annie, would understand the outside world." Whatever that means. Me. . . I'm laid back but not as much as Annie, I like reading. Most of the time though, I write or draw parts of my stories. I'm not the fun one to be around, that's Annie job. But I make a great friend. I finish getting dressed in an emerald green t-shirt and blue jeans, I leave my socks on my makeup bed. Because what's the point of wearing socks if your not going anywhere other than in the kitchen, it's a waste of clean socks. At least to my standards, you see I have OCD. For those of you who don't know what it is, it means obsessive compulsive disorder. It's just an anxiety disorder, statistics prove that 1 out of forty kids have it. Yeah, I'm smart, and some people say that I can be a tad too, what's that word they used . . . Oh right,encyclopedia-y, oh and they also say I'm a polymath. Only because I'm smart in almost every subject, except math. I walk the short distance from the cupboard to the kitchen, there is no door to the kitchen only horrify streamers. They give me a headache just by looking at them. I walk past them into the kitchen. I've seen the kitchen so many things that I have the small table, the green counter top, the black refrigerator, the brown cupboards, and the big rectangular window board into my mind. Annie is leaning against one of the counter tops, smiling at me. There is a cup of coffee next to her. "Good Morning," I say.
"Good Morning to you too,birthday boy."
"Coffee again,Annie?" I say teasing.
"Only you, R. . . Only you." Annie says using my nickname. "And how many times have I told you to call me Ann, I hate Annie." She pouts as she says that.
"You shouldn't hate your name because your name is something you, just like your words, and even your actions."
"I know but still Annie is a common name. I wish my name was like yours: unique."
"Oh-kay, so I should call you Ann. As in Anne, like your name?"
"You little rascal!" I laugh as I continue into the kitchen. I stop at the refrigerator, open the door and peek inside. There's nothing inside, other than a few bottles of beer and a handful of grapes but nothing to my likely. Now don't get it wrong, we aren't poor. Mom and Dad just don't like shopping for food, they like shopping for clothing and toys (not like I use them).