Scars Ch. 02

Okay, well I probably should have put this at the beginning of my other chapter...but I kind of forgot so I'm putting it here. This is my technically my second submission, but it will be part of one big whole. Just like any other writer I love feed back, any and all. Also if anyone wants to help me on some other books...feel free to email me. Oh, and if you are looking for a quick book with sex...this isn't it. I don't even get to that point for many more chapters. I like to build up to it. All sexual acts are committed by legal adults over the age of eighteen.

I was out at the lake when it happened. My mom had recently gotten me a prepaid phone with a small monthly plan so we could call in case of emergencies. I paid for the plan now, out of my salary, but it had been a birthday gift with the first two months paid for.

I got a call from my mom. "Honey, I need you to get home now. Someone is outside and I don't know who it is. I locked all of the doors, but I don't know what they want, or if that will hold them," she said.

"Mom! I'll be right there. Go up to the upstairs room and lock yourself in it. Don't come out until I tell you to." I hung up and jumped on my bike. I never took the car out to the lake 'cause it was so close and I liked the exercise.

I pedaled as hard as I could. I did everything I could to get home faster, took short cuts, back roads, everything. I called the police and told them to get to my house.

I didn't think it was something that big; hopefully it was just someone snooping around for an unlocked house to steal from. I never expected them to actually want to kill my mom. I got there and I knew before I even got off my bike I was too late. The front door was broken in, splinters from the frame lying on the ground. I run inside and up the stairs. The room door was broken in also and I knew right then this was no regular B&E. Someone wanted to get to my mom. I walked in and fell to my knees. My mom had been tortured and killed, then strung up like a doll.

The police pulled up soon after that and came in to find me crying and staring up at my mom. They lead me away, saying they would find who did this. They never did, they still haven't and I've given up. I'm now seventeen, in foster care for another year. I moved to a new town, a new school, a new job. I couldn't stay in the same place.

It was another small town, and everyone knew I was in foster care as soon as I showed up to school. I had enough money in savings to buy a car. Originally it was for college, but now the military life insurance was going to me so I was putting that in savings for college instead. It got a 2003 Mustang. It had twenty-five thousand miles on it, which surprised me 'cause it was nearly ten years old, but I wasn't complaining.

The cops had checked the two knives I had, my dad's old ones, and I got them back. My foster parents knew I had them, but they were pretty cool. They were into all sorts of things, especially guns. I wasn't much of a gun guy for obvious reasons. I learned to throw my dad's throwing knife. When I went out, I took both of my knives with me.

When I was at school, the knives staid in my locked car, in my locked glove box. No one but my foster parents knew I had those knives so I was safe. It was here that I first met Emily. She was amazing, a cheerleader, a dancer...and a prep. I despised preps with every fiber of my being. They hated me for being poor, like that was my fault. If you weren't well off, then you were a nobody to them.

Emily wasn't like that. She was different. She was nice to everyone. I never understood why she went out with the football team's "star" quarterback. He was a jerk and she deserved so much better.

Emily wasn't the first friend I had at the new school, but she was always there in a way I could never understand. It seemed like she had an agenda and I was on it. I will never understand what she saw in me, because I was not the nicest person to her when she talked to me for the first time.

I still wore black a lot, but I started mixing in new stuff. There weren't a lot of stores that sold a ton of black clothes here. I had to start getting into things other than black, like grey and red. I got red as a funny, something only I would get.