FAIR DEALING
I stifled a yawn after I've finished reading that book titled "Abnormality or Weirdness?" by Mr. Whatever-the-hell-that-guys name is. Don't blame me for reading that, I'm really trying so hard to understand why people look at me that way. Anyway, I'm Perse. That's what I wanted to be called, short for Persephone Vigee Lebrun.
Obviously, I can tell people look at me differently, but I don't mind. I came from a "normal" family (that's what they call it). Dad's a police in our town. My mom manages a store four blocks from our place. I have an older sister Neshee, and a German shepherd I call Mark.
The way I look is always a problem. Don't wonder why. I dress like an emo. Dad always tell me that I look like a drug dependent. I have a tattoo, a rose, on my right arm. I remember when I got that, mom freaked out and grounded me. Neshee look so disgusted when I dress in black. But hey, it's the modern age, then why look vintage?
******
School for me spells out N-I-G-H-T-M-A-R-E. Don't give me that look! I REALLY hated school. I'm a psychology student, by the way. I nearly banged my head against the wall when they enrolled me in that course. I always wanted to be an engineer. Believe it or not, I'm freakin' good in Math. Honestly.
Hey, I always look in the brighter side. I've got only thirty-plus classmates, and psychologists aren't supposed to be babblers, plus I don't get to have many guy classmates. Guys really freak me out.
*****
Back to reality. People look at me as though I'm somewhat like A-B-N-O-R-M-A-L. Fuck those bitches who keep on judging me, telling me that I'm an irresponsible, outgoing, happy-go-lucky girl who had no direction in my life. I really loathed them so much that I wanted to strangle them. Unknown to mom and dad, I have .45mm gun that I got from a friend and a baseball bat I bought, and they're hidden in the ceiling in my room.
*****
I'm not really like this. I'm really a "sweet and innocent girl" type (know what I mean?). But because of those mean girls in my old high school and their rumors, my life got ruined. We used to live in New Jersey, but we moved out because of them.
RUMORS. Really hated that word. It's makin' me sick. They ruin reputations and lives of innocent people because of greed and jealousy.
So this is what happened:
It was my friend Timothy's birthday, we partied at his house, and things went haywire. They posted my pictures on MySpace. We were drunk and they dared me if I can use marijuana. I found out that he took those photos, he did that for his girlfriend, Katrina, who was one of my archenemies at school. Later I learned that I was going to be kicked out of school. And got reprimanded by mom and dad. The worst part? I faced charges in court.
It his me like a brick in my face. I felt like I've lost everything. I'm broken, committing suicide, learned how to smoke and drink. I even learned how to gamble.
Got involved with gangsters and gang wars. Three months after, Dad decided to move out the city for good.
******
"Nothing's going to change her". I heard mom talking. I just came home, and they're meeting in our dining room.
"She never said anything, didn't defend herself. She just let them get their way."
Dad commented.
"She silently followed our decision"
"I wish she was her old self again."
"Honestly, mom, I like the way she is right now. She's strong to face all this." Neshee was there.
I can no longer stand it, so I went upstairs.
******
I've had enough of these problems. I survived everything, but I dwell in the darkness. And sometimes as I take a look back, I remember a dreadful memory. A crime that will haunt me till my dying day.
CRACK
"What the heck?"
"Damn, car!"
"Someone broke the windows"
"Who would do this?"
It started to rain.
BANG
"YOU!"
BANG
And nothing more.
******
The New Jersey Daily- October 29, 2005. Two college students are found dead in an alleyway near 79th Street, New Jersey. Katrina Larsen and Timothy Johnson, student of a local university were both shot in the temples by a .45mm gun that caused their immediate death. Larsen's car windows were also broken. A youngster saw the crime, testifying that a man who wears a black hooded jacket and jogging pants killed the two…
*****
"Lebrun's residence. Good evening"
"Persephone? Wait just a sec."
I was taking my book back on the shelf when Mom called me.
"Phone for you." Mom lead the way to the sitting room
"Thanks Mom."
"Hello?"
"Persephone? Hey, it's Nelle. Have you heard what happened to Katrina and Timothy?"
"I've been out of touch since I left. Why?"
"They're dead. The police found them. Shot in the temples."
"What?" I sounded shocked.
"The police never found a suspect. I just called to let you know"
"Thanks Nelle."
"Bye."
"Bye."
As I hung the phone, I remembered my gun and my bat, safely hidden. I laundered my hooded jacket, and it was hanging on the clothes rack. And the jogging pants I'm wearing, with dried blood, mistakably recognized as mud.
I smirked.
