I was the outsider looking over everyone but could never think for myself. It was an unbearable world watching kids laugh as I suffered alone. I But the best of my times were watching them suffer, falling on their knees begging their parents for more. But the words I hear all to often is because I said so I liked hearing those words. Parents showing those spoiled kids what they needed to hear. They always got their way but I was trapped on the outside my grasp could never quite reach where I was determined to be. No matter how far I traveled or how much I did I was just here. But I soon realised I would never get my way.
Everything just moved so fast as a kid, there was never a time where you could just stop and think and about it all. But it was great I could do whatever I wanted I was like a loose cannon. But everyone has that moment as a child where you can think about it all. But it came to early and it just all hit me. Everything around you just stops and it’s a silent world. It reminded me of the time when she left us, Dad said she was having a long sleep.
For everyone’s information this might be in my school story project
I feel like I’m stuck and I can’t get out. I’ve fallen too far and know I can’t climb back up. I can see people smiling but I’m contained in the darkness before me. My hands aching in pure pain constant chains getting tighter on my grip. I have no one because I stopped trying, stopped trying to get attention and just sit. But I don’t know what life is anymore, I’ve tried so hard to be someone else that I’ve forgotten. You know some people manage to catch a rope the rope has been down here for a while but my hands are weak and tired. I never think I’ll manage to get the rope and pull myself back up. I kind of just sit there watching it fling around a lot of people fall down here with me but they can climb back and then I’m just sit alone.
School wasn’t the best well to admit it nothing was that great. Every morning I would stop at the door and dread of going in. As soon as I walk in kids would try and hide the fact they were staring at me. It wasn’t easy. When I sat down I’d try and find a seat at the back as far away as possible from everyone else. Usually when I sat down kids moved away well if they could. Sometimes I think what colour should it be? I mean my skin. Sometimes when I get called on and answer the question kids laugh. My face scrunches up and my face turns bright red. I just slide down my chair covering my face with my book. Kids know I’m different and they don’t seem to like it.
As I rushed down the stairs through the door the wind immediately hit my face. The snow was like a coat of sprinkled sugar covering the frosty fields. The river had frozen over as I slowly leaned over to see my reflection staring right back. I had never been forced to do anything in my life well that is till now. It was a test of survival only the best would come back out. Inside I was so nervous my eyes squinting at the sight of the truck my face scrunched up as I left my parents. The 2 things I was going to remember were the way my mum cooked her crisp apple pie but more importantly the pink cherry blossom tree I played under.
We all knew it was coming. The virus was spreading worldwide. And know our only hope was us. As of each month on the 15th would our stomachs drop. I only dread of opening that letter for each year. I could see they all had the same fear consuming them. That morning tall men in suits escorted every kid down to some sort of center. As I sat down next to Anabelle her face wasn’t scared but concerned. I could see she knew something that no one else did. Every year at 2.45 we’d get the letter and as I read the contents I was aware of my smile.
Suddenly I woke, my eyes frantically approaching my surroundings. The room was ice cold, chills flew around me. The only thing I could see was a small light hanging from the roof second by second the light weakening into the darkness before me. Except for a Lime green exit sign on the side of the door. The only thing I could remember was when I was in my room staring constantly at the clock as the ticking suddenly drove me to insanity well as it did regularly. As I heard screams racing through the house and suddenly that wasn’t my problem the blazing flames coming through the door were.
It my special spot away from everybody else I loved the silence away from everyone it was magical. It was a haven of safety to the outside world. There was nowhere safe, guards patrolling the streets and hunting the fugitives down for good. I was one of them, my family gone and my house all I had was a scrunched up photo in my bag. All I could remember was hearing gunshots and seeing a house explode before me. My mum screaming as my dad racing for her. My sister hiding under the table the last I knew was her staring into my eyes tears of dread dripping down her face. This door was my only hope.
As soon as I walked into to our dump of a flat I would threw my bag down and run straight to my room making sure no one would catch me. As far as I was concerned my parents had forgotten I even exist. I would hear my mum and dad yelling at each other but one night it all stopped at the sound of a knock. I heard a strange voice echoing through the house. So, as I looked over the edge, I saw my parents laying in blood. The shots echoed as though they would never end getting louder and louder, spinning through my head constantly.
A killer, hidden. Despite the hard work throughout this cold case, no one has uncovered the face behind the mask. Though I had picked up the case where it had been left off there was a middle-aged lady in the middle of it. Molly Maxwell, who had a split personality disorder. One sweet teacher what harm could she do. But that other person, the other half well let’s just say I didn’t think it was too sweet. The interrogation began on 92 Fletchers Street, where the truth was spilled before another life was lost. However, she couldn’t believe what she had done. For an adored teacher to a masked killer.