Kellan
I walk in through my front door, closing it gingerly behind me. I take a moment to look at my surroundings. A giant plasma screen TV took up most of the cream coloured wall near me. Strange, it isn't on. It makes the room too quiet. I hate my house. I know I'm in trouble. I could tell as soon as I walked inside. There is only silence, no music, no television in the background. I looked around, but there was no one there. I ran upstairs, almost tripping in my hurry up the gleaming, white marble staircase.
"Julius!" I shouted, but I couldn't hear my brother's usual loud music or any girls.
See my brother was the 'ladies man' of our family. My father is handsome, but he's no Julius. My younger brother still thinks that girls have 'cooties'. And I lack the heartless, ruthless streak you need to date lots of girls at once. But although I'll never admit it, I envy him. I'm always known as 'Julius's little brother' by people in my school, by teachers, even by my parents. He was only one year older than I am but he's a legend at our school. Ladies want him, guys want to be him, you know, stuff like that.
I ran up a couple more flights of stairs and I was running out of breath. I knew that running was a big mistake, when I almost collapsed at the top of the stairs. I turned a corner and there was his room, maybe he hadn't heard me. I ran through his door, ignoring the 'Do Not Enter Under Penalty Of Death' signs.
Oh my god.
Un-bloody-believable.
I think death will be a pleasurable experience after the beating I am going to get.
Emilia
I walk in through the front door, closing it gingerly behind me. I take a moment to look at my surroundings. A tiny are-you-sure-it's-a-television-because-it's-kinda-small TV sits against the puke green wall. I hate my house. The dim lights outline my dad sitting on the couch, drinking a beer. There's no difference there then.
"Mum!" I call.
"Through here!" Here voice sounds oddly strained.
I slowly walk through to our kitchen which is about half the size of our whole house. I'm sure that our whole house is about the same size as a cardboard box. I shuffled through into the kitchen and braced myself for another argument.
"Mum? I'm home," I said with a hopeful smile.
She was cutting chicken, with a long glimmering, steel knife. Put down the knife, Mum. Put down the knife.
She stared up at me, her eyes glistening with tears. Oh no. What have I done?