( This may only be one chapter, but what the heck? I thought this was a good story to start out with. ) ( OH CRAP. I should've added this to the original work topic thingy. Oops, my bad. ) SOME NOTES BEFORE READING: - This is a very realistic story, takes place in America and is actually something new, since I love different cultures across the world. - There will be a few stereotypical statements and how main character is, in fact, into the 'scene'. - It is quite short comapred to other workd on different websites, but I thought it needed to be short due to some of the vocabulary usage and I pretty much speeded things up on accident. But, nonetheless, I hope you guys enjoy ! I find myself waking up once again to only find myself staring up upon the ceiling. The ceiling that resides above a future murderer. How I collect this simple fact? I'm tired of this life that exists. Everything that even lives is becoming to irritate the thought of my being. The only way I'm going to let this stress escape is by simply murdering the purpose. It may sound stupid, but how else will I do it? By talking to them? Like that ever works. As the sheets from my ever so comfortable bed slip off, I think to myself that bed is the only escape I truly have away from the true look on life. But I had to accept with waking up. Not everyday could be dealt with a mind, if you truly think about it. Slipping on the clothes that were actually rather tight on me, I looked at myself as the straightened hair glazing from my scalp was making my pale face look even more girly. The sigh of true depression escape my lips. "Wearing all black today, again, Tyler?" So my sister's voice echoed within the pearl bathroom. The voice I didn't want to hear first in the morning. Turning back at my sister, I gave off a smile that never really existed. "It's all I really have in my closet, you know that." Again, my sister would offspring a disapproved look. The puffing face of an adorable ten year old. "Jeez, Tyler. Why don't you wear something with bright colors?" "I don't know. I don't fit the Fall Out Boy shirt anymore." Always a lame joke in the morning. "School's out. Why are you looking all fancy?" "Fancy's an understatement." So I say. Instant replies were certain flying out my cocky lips this morning. I guess you could call it a habit, so to speak. "So, who are you seeing this time?" I seriously mean it when I say she never stops talking. But I guess it wouldn't be that bad having a sister. Makes you feel like you are someone to look up to. Believe it or not, I actually do grow some smiles around that girl. "I'm not seeing anybody. I'm just going over to Chris's house, Miranda." I say this now and never again, that's where I spend a majority of my time at. Guess it's because his cousin is someone I'm growing feelings for. If you must know, this girl, who so happens to be Christopher's cousin, is a blonde beauty. Everything that stereotypes wouldn't think of at first. Her name, is Amy Sylvia. Each time I hear that elegant name, my face actually looks something other than a pale, white comoplexion. It would be terrible of a friend to only be Chris's friend to only see Amy, which I've been aware of that. To be honest, I am still Christopher's friend, although I feel I'm taking advantage of that. Maybe it's just me. As I exited the door, the breeze of a cool summer in Alabama breezed across the chest. The chest covered by the well fitting Alesana shirt. Breathing this wonderful Wednesday, I strolled forward to the sun with no clouds blocking in the way. Sure, this did look like a perfect day, but would it really last that long? Passing aside the emotional philosophy, I walked down a street to find myself right in front of Chris's front door. Like any normal human, I walked before, knocking upon the wooden door. Awaiting the arrival of Chris, I was surprised to see Amy answer the door instead. Jumping back onto my feet, again, I would chuckle nervously, scratching the back of my head like a kid. Reflexes, damnit. "Oh, hey, Tyler. What are you doing here?" The innocent voice of a fifteen year old extremity of beauty ringed through my ears like Chopin's Nocturne. I know, I bit too classical for anyone alternative, but what the hell. I've always been a sucker for the soft music. "Just coming over to relax and chill, that's all." There was another reason. But I'm not that blunt to admit it in front of the purpose itself. "Is it alright if I can join you two?" "Absolutely. I don't mind." Again, Amy would give that fangirlish squeel that would make any guy just die from immense cuteness. I can't take just standing there and squeeling inside my head. I felt like the real fangirl in this situation. Minus the girl part, of course. Walking up the stairs right in front of Amy, I stopped to the right; smack dab in front of the grayish black door of Christopher Vladimir. Always, he had to be sleeping. The amplifying sound of snoring banging its sound waves directly out the door. "Ugh, always has to be sleeping." Knocking on the door incessantly, I began to worry as every pause was filled with worry. The snoring began to stop suddenly. That's when both mine and Amy's eyes went wide and our pupils minimized. "This is not good." Banging on the door with my shoulder, nothing broke through. "Stand back, Amy." As Amy back away with composure fully checked, I ran at the door with the force that was only half the true strength. The wood cracked through the hinges of the door, I collected myself as I peered up to the bed. I couldn't believe what I saw. Chris, stained in blood, was murdered. Right when we were right behind the door. "What ... t-the ... hell?" I whispered to myself, dropping to my knees. The echoing scream of Amy passing by my eardrums. All I could do was stare at the bed in fright and depression. Why must everyday have a hint of destruction in the recipe? ( C ) LullabyCaiden, or otherwise known as Skyler.
