Nobody really ever knew what happened around my house. All they knew was I sat alone at lunch, an outcast. I was the person that sat in the very back of the classroom, dressed in dark clothes, coloring my nails and hands with black permanent markers and hiding the scabs that criss-crossed my wrists like a jigsaw puzzle with wristbands. I never owned a short sleeved shirt, and the two tank tops were always worn under fishnet shirts. My jeans were black and baggy; many of them had red or white lining along the seams. When it became cold enough, I wore a trademark baggy, black hoodie over my shirts. These clothes concealed me, concealed who I was, concealed what they did.
I'm the youngest of six kids. Mandy, Joseph, and Jack, all in their early twenties, attend college on honor-roll scholarships. Jay and May, twins, are both seniors. I'm the youngest, a simple, little freshman. I'm also my father and uncles punching bag. My mom, the most kind and beautiful person in the world, is in the hospital in a coma. So, just as everything else that goes wrong, I'm to blame for my mother's condition. In my home, blame leads to pain. Nobody really every knew about it, though.
Well, that's a lie. One person did. He was a warrior, strong and brace. He was cunning and deceitful with friend and foe alike. He was serious as death and funny as the April Fool. He was a great speaker, and a better listener. He was a great teacher, but a better student. His name was Scavenger.
Just a little story teaser! I know I need to work on my others, but this one really just popped out at me at 11:08 last night! waves around her notebook Please please please review! My inbox has been terribly lonely lately!