One by One

Chapter 1- Life as it is

Ever felt as if life was a big boulder slowly dropping and making its way to you from a high cliff? Oh wait, no, because that's death. It's bound to fall on us, on everyone, just waiting and waiting to crush you to itty-bitty pieces. People say I'm morbid, morbid but cool, cool but fun, fun but well, infamous.

This is what everyone writes about in stories, high school starts, girl walks in, all eyes on her, truth is she's a bitch (surprise, surprise), got it all working for her, girl meets boy, falls in love, secrets are revealed, boy leaves girl, girl becomes depressed, says she's sorry, boy is reunited with girl again, happy ending (hoorah, hoorah, woo). Even the word cliché seems super cliché now.

The differences in me and that popular girl as far as I'm concerned is that I'm so not the kind that walks in and has all eyes on her and boy, needless to say, not every chick is popular, some are infamous, really infamous.

The popular girl definitely does not have a crazy, delusional, suicidal mother who is even more so infamous, she made it in the papers, television, the internet, YouTube especially and who knows, even the entire white house knows her.

Why? Maybe because she tried to burn herself and her daughter alive in the house she was brought up in so they could see the one man that gave life to the daughter and took his wife's when he died in an accident.

Oh, did I miss out the part where she attempted to blow up the whole country of America with her "How to make homemade bombs? Only from the internet" to blow up the entire country. Sure, mom, blow up the country with your homemade bombs that didn't even cross our backyard. Again, why? Oh, maybe because she wanted to bring the United States of America with her to heaven. When you have a mother that insane, life will never be the same.

My name used to be Emily Xenia Walt, odd name, I know, but that was me until the C.I.A. and F.B.I. figured it would be best if I changed and turned my whole life around and started going by the name Brady Cara Phillips. I never wanted people to know the real me but all at the same time, I wanted my past to be known.

I lived with foster parents, they were the only ones who were aware of the whole situation and who knew the 'old' me. To everyone I used to know, I vanished. All this while I thought I would be safe from that crazy old hag that was now in an asylum but, I knew I couldn't run forever.

People eventually figured out who I was, (gee, the power of Google) and that was how I got my old life back, well most of it. Everyone thought Emily Xenia Walt died in that fire, and that only her sister Brady Cara Phillips, who was away in boarding school all her life survived. Truth is, Brady was fiction, Emily was not, but she died the night her mom tried to kill her, and that was how the story had evolved into what it had.

I was lucky that my mom didn't have any friends; it made it easier for me. So there we have it, an average 17 year old girl's life all written down and explained. Super average.

"Brady! You're late for the third time this month, see me after class will you now?" Mrs. Peters screamed as if her life depended on it. "I'm sorry, won't happen again", I said, as I made my way to my seat. The smell of desperation and different types of perfumes and cologne filled the air. Ah, don't we all love coming back for our senior year after that lovely summer break? Not. Kill. Me. Please.

As I sat down, I looked around the class, trying to find that one girl that made my life a life easier to live. Her name was Deborah Sunshine, no, seriously, her parents thought naming her sunshine would help her get through life easier but boy, did they get that bit wrong.

I met Deborah in an art workshop when I was 8 and was still trying to get by the fact of a 'new' me. There was this boy that used to pull my hair every lesson and I would be too afraid to defend myself, so this very one day, yes, story time! Mrs. Sunshine made her way to my seat and told me she couldn't stand what the weird boy was doing to me and so that very one day just as he was about to pull my hair, Deborah stood up with her double chin and curly red locks and said this very line I will never forget, "Fuck off and don't ever do that again you disgusting fart!" she yelled. Deborah was expelled and banned from the workshop but never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined someone doing that for me. The boy of course, was so petrified, he peed his pants.