1I guess I never really meant what Mama meant when she said, "Think before you act," until after she was gone. I understood what she meant the moment I had heard the news that she, and Dad had died in a fatal car wreck. The morning before the "accident" happened, my parents and I had gotten into a terrible fight. When they left for work, I put a death wish on them. I guess I'm magic. It's still hard to cope with the fact that the last thing I had said, rather yelled then said, to them was, "I HATE YOU!"
The moment I had found out about their death, I balled for hours on end. They died before the ambulance could get them to the hospital. I never saw them again. I never got to say I was sorry or that I loved them. The funeral was small and brief. Not many people actually knew us. If they did know us, we were "the weirdos," or, "the freaks of nature."
My mother was a strong, well built, artistic woman. She had spent all of her time painting, working out, or tending to my fathers needs. There was no time for me, expect maybe when she yelled at me to "get off my lazy ass and do something," or giving me wise crack proverbs. Mama was a very beautiful woman. She had long, lush, maroon colored hair, little freckles all over her chest and face. She was tall and an average thin. Mama always had her hair pulled back into a sloppy looking ponytail. She wore worn out cloths, and pants fit for men. She said, "it was who she was."
Her name was Gina Jeevas.
Father had been an emotional wreck. Hence the reason my mother spent more then half her time tending to his needs. He had no time to care for me either. He was firm with me also. None of this video gaming or running shit I always did. He hid his depression under fury and took his fury out on me. He was very kind to Mama. Dad was a tall man, much like my mother, but more manly. He had golden blond hair and wore business suits; he was my mother's business manager. He had a nose much like mine, round, yet not at the same time. I had his eyes also. The color left people bewitched. It's to hard to put into words.
Father's name was Keith Jeevas.
I was Matt. Plain, good for nothing, Matt. My real name Mail. I hated it; it was probably do to the fact that peoples always pronounced it "Male" instead of the "Mile" that it was suppose to be. Once again, my mother was a very artistic woman and had very artistic names for her first and last child. First my name had been Keifer, then JoJo, then Loveme, and then finally Mail. She considered me her greatest creation until I came out. When the nurse handed her me in the hospital she simply looked at me and made a weird face then handed me to my father. He had the same reaction. I guess I wasn't a very pretty baby. As I grew, I got my mothers maroon hair and, my father's eyes and nose. I was a quite good mix of both of them, with the exception of my vision. My vision was poor. When I took of my big ass glasses, I couldn't see my hand if it was a centimeter away from my face. Mama and Father had prefect vision. I have no idea how I got this vision.
My glasses took up half my face; Mama said it was "a good way to expression how artistic I was." She only told me that once... well-yelled it once. I was not in the least artistic either. I couldn't even draw a straight line. My mother made me follow her dreams though . . . Her passion. One time, I had failed to complete a project in art class. I got a zero. When I delivered the information to Mama, she didn't handle it too well.
"You FAILED!" She had screamed.
"I..I'm sorry," I said in a small voice.
" I'm disappointed. Didn't you even try!?" She kept yelling. She wouldn't stop.
"I really did try. I worked so hard. I'm sorry Mama."
"DON'T GIVE ME THAT!" She hit me, "GO TO BED! You're GROUNDED!"
I really did try also. I tried to do it. I sat in class working as hard as I could; not talking to anybody. Art was like Math to stupid people. It was just too hard. I didn't understand, and still don't. After Mama and Father died, I gave up on it.
When they died, I went to an Orphanage. It's called, "Wammy's Orphanage for the Gifted." Or something like that. Apparently, according to the school I had been going to, I was "brilliant" "a star student" "the best". Many things names like that. I guess that's why I went there. That orphanage would change my life forever, starting with a boy who went by the name of Mello.
End of chapter one.