Chapter 3 - Arguments
Will my parents ever leave me alone?!
When I got home, my dad was in the living room watching a movie, half asleep, and my mom was nowhere in the house. I went into my room and got onto the computer which was older than the hills. I checked my AOL Instant Messenger Buddy List and it turned out that everyone I wanted to talk to was away. I sighed out of frustration. I didn't want to be here.
I snapped off the monitor and tried to make an effort to do my homework the night before it was due, not the period before. I sat there, staring at the pages of math homework, and the phone rang. I ran to answer it, knowing my dad would be upset if he had to wake up. "Hello?" I said into the receiver. Silence.
"Hello..."
A raspy voice spoke so quietly I had to strain my ears to hear him. "I need to see you," it said. "Who is this?" I started to panic, fear striking my heart, making it race. "Please, come to the library, I need to see you..."
Click. The receiver clicked off. I turned off the phone, not knowing what to do, but it sounded like someone I knew. Could it be Owen? As quietly as I could, I grabbed my overlarge sweatshirt and headed back outside. The library was only a few blocks from my house, and I could use the get- away from homework and home, for that matter. Five minutes later, I was walking outside a red brick building, the library. Its lights illuminated it like a snow globe with sleet flying around it. I went up the steps to the glass front door and swung it open, closing it quickly behind me as a rush of air trailed inside. I looked around and saw nobody I knew. I went to the back of the library, where all my favorite books were. I loved reading about the Salem Witch Trials; even stuff like Hocus Pocus intrigued me. I think deep down I knew there was such a thing as witchcraft, but my mother had always told me otherwise. Her view on it was that you can't do everything that you can do in the movies. There was no such thing as magic to her. So, being my mother, I believed her. Just then, I scratched my neck and heard a voice behind me whisper in my ear, making me jump. "I didn't think you'd come." I turned around quickly, relieved to see that it was just Owen. I smiled at him, but he looked different somehow. His eyes held a mantic gleam that I had never seen before. My smile faded and I tried to back away, but only hit bookshelves. He moved closer to me, making a move to kiss me. I turned my head, but he kissed my neck instead. I put my hands on his chest and pushed hard against him, but making no difference in the distance between us. He looked angry by this point. "There's no need to fight it. You know you want to." He put one hand over my mouth and pressed his hips into mine. I was too shocked to do anything but look at his eyes and wish this was all a dream. He kept me against the shelves, and then his other hand went beneath my shirt and was on my stomach when I knew I wasn't dreaming at all. I let out an unnoticed scream of danger, but no one heard. Of course no one heard, I'm in the back of the library and I hardly saw anyone here at this time of night back here. I tried to push him away, but that didn't help at all. So, when all else fails, go to the movies. I kneed him in the groin and he cried out in agony. I took advantage of the situation--Owen doubled over in pain a few feet from me--and I ran. It only took me a few minutes to get home, not as long as it took for me to get to the library. As soon as I walked though the door, my mother and father were sitting there in the living room, looking up at me with anger showing on their faces. "Where have you been?" My mother asked, her eyes narrowing. "I, uh, had to go to the library for a book, but they didn't have it," I replied lamely. My cheeks were tear stained, but they didn't seem to notice. If they did, maybe they just didn't care. I just ignored them and went to my room, closing the door a little harder than needed. Apparently my father came after me because he swung the door open, making it rap loudly on my dresser behind it. His words were nothing more than a jumble of gibberish, for I was so angry that he was raising his voice to me, my face fell red and my mind set. I turned around and looked at him. He tripped and fell backwards hard on his back, the door swinging shut behind him and locking, something I'm not supposed to do. I didn't care.
When I got home, my dad was in the living room watching a movie, half asleep, and my mom was nowhere in the house. I went into my room and got onto the computer which was older than the hills. I checked my AOL Instant Messenger Buddy List and it turned out that everyone I wanted to talk to was away. I sighed out of frustration. I didn't want to be here.
I snapped off the monitor and tried to make an effort to do my homework the night before it was due, not the period before. I sat there, staring at the pages of math homework, and the phone rang. I ran to answer it, knowing my dad would be upset if he had to wake up. "Hello?" I said into the receiver. Silence.
"Hello..."
A raspy voice spoke so quietly I had to strain my ears to hear him. "I need to see you," it said. "Who is this?" I started to panic, fear striking my heart, making it race. "Please, come to the library, I need to see you..."
Click. The receiver clicked off. I turned off the phone, not knowing what to do, but it sounded like someone I knew. Could it be Owen? As quietly as I could, I grabbed my overlarge sweatshirt and headed back outside. The library was only a few blocks from my house, and I could use the get- away from homework and home, for that matter. Five minutes later, I was walking outside a red brick building, the library. Its lights illuminated it like a snow globe with sleet flying around it. I went up the steps to the glass front door and swung it open, closing it quickly behind me as a rush of air trailed inside. I looked around and saw nobody I knew. I went to the back of the library, where all my favorite books were. I loved reading about the Salem Witch Trials; even stuff like Hocus Pocus intrigued me. I think deep down I knew there was such a thing as witchcraft, but my mother had always told me otherwise. Her view on it was that you can't do everything that you can do in the movies. There was no such thing as magic to her. So, being my mother, I believed her. Just then, I scratched my neck and heard a voice behind me whisper in my ear, making me jump. "I didn't think you'd come." I turned around quickly, relieved to see that it was just Owen. I smiled at him, but he looked different somehow. His eyes held a mantic gleam that I had never seen before. My smile faded and I tried to back away, but only hit bookshelves. He moved closer to me, making a move to kiss me. I turned my head, but he kissed my neck instead. I put my hands on his chest and pushed hard against him, but making no difference in the distance between us. He looked angry by this point. "There's no need to fight it. You know you want to." He put one hand over my mouth and pressed his hips into mine. I was too shocked to do anything but look at his eyes and wish this was all a dream. He kept me against the shelves, and then his other hand went beneath my shirt and was on my stomach when I knew I wasn't dreaming at all. I let out an unnoticed scream of danger, but no one heard. Of course no one heard, I'm in the back of the library and I hardly saw anyone here at this time of night back here. I tried to push him away, but that didn't help at all. So, when all else fails, go to the movies. I kneed him in the groin and he cried out in agony. I took advantage of the situation--Owen doubled over in pain a few feet from me--and I ran. It only took me a few minutes to get home, not as long as it took for me to get to the library. As soon as I walked though the door, my mother and father were sitting there in the living room, looking up at me with anger showing on their faces. "Where have you been?" My mother asked, her eyes narrowing. "I, uh, had to go to the library for a book, but they didn't have it," I replied lamely. My cheeks were tear stained, but they didn't seem to notice. If they did, maybe they just didn't care. I just ignored them and went to my room, closing the door a little harder than needed. Apparently my father came after me because he swung the door open, making it rap loudly on my dresser behind it. His words were nothing more than a jumble of gibberish, for I was so angry that he was raising his voice to me, my face fell red and my mind set. I turned around and looked at him. He tripped and fell backwards hard on his back, the door swinging shut behind him and locking, something I'm not supposed to do. I didn't care.