My name is Bree- Bree Crimson. If people ask what my least favorite thing about myself is, I don't give those normal teenage girl answers. I don't say "Ohmigosh, I am like, soo fat," or "I have the hariest legs on the planet! Ugh!" No, that would be boring.
Instead, I say my name. The number of times I've been teased, joked, pointed, laughed, and questioned for my name is ridiculous. In fact, my boyfriend calls me Dead Cheese- dead for the crimson, and cheese for the Bree, or brie.
I inherited my dreadful name from my dead mother. She died while giving birth to me, for an unknown reason. Even though it's kind of sad not to have a mother, I've never had one so I can't say anything myself.
My whole primary family is dead. I was an only child, I never knew any of my aunts or uncles, my father committed suicide when he was 35. The only person alive is my grandfather, but I don't really count him as family, and I live with him! He's an odd fellow- always obsessed with clocks. I've never seen anything like it! Whenever I ask him what he's doing, he always gives me the same response- dark eyes glaring, teeth bared. I gave up after a while and don't get up in his business anymore.
YOU ARE READING
Midnight Clock
TerrorTick tock. Tick tock. TICK TOCK. "Granddaddy, what's with this clock?" He smirks at me. "Do you really want to know, Bree? Its kind of scary." Yes, I want to know. I've been wanting to know for the past sixteen years, or something like that. I nod...
