Emma Swift and the Proven Rumor (ON HOLD)

Chapter One: Aunt Becky's Claim

The alarm clock beeps loud in my ear. I groan and slap it, opening my eye in check the date. August 26th, aka, the day I leave this horrible place for good.

My eyes snap open and I hop out of bed.

****

After getting ready, I bring my bag downstairs and put it by the door. "You scared?" a voice asks from behind me. Jessica. I turn my head to see her, her dark brown hair perfectly curled in a way you can tell is fake.

Meet Jessica Amber, AKA my cousin and Aunt Becky's daughter/stuck up brat. In her own little world, I bet she pictures herself as the little Miss. Perfect princess who gets everything she wants, no matter the cost.

"No," I answer. "You seem like you would be though."

"I wouldn't," she says with a head held high. "I'm not scared of anything." I remember back to the few of many times my older brother, Matt, put his pet spider on her head. Every time she ran out running like a cat being chased by a dog. Those were the good old days.

"Yea, right," I say and walk into the kitchen. Aunt Becky sits at the table, her hands on a fork and knife, munching on some eggs. Her cold green eyes stared up at me like a hawk, watching my every move.

"Good morning," I say and grab a bowl and a cereal box.

"No..." Aunt Becky says before I can put something in my bowl. "Get the mail, bring them to me, and go upstairs until you must leave to catch the bus."

"I'm not a child you can push around," I say sternly. "I'm hungry."

She narrowed her eyes at me, a frown appearing on her lips. "You will do what I say because I'm the only one who knows your secret. You killed your parents, and I know it!"

"I did not!" I exclaim.

"Just go upstairs or I'll call the police!" Not wanting to make it a problem, I pull out my mom's old car keys. After her death, they were given to me for when I was old enough. Instead of money, this is what I got because the rest was in my other family members' names.

"I'll be going now," I say, grabbing my suitcase and dragging it out the door.

"Where are you going?" she asks.

"Getting an earlier bus," I answer and slam the door behind me. I hear Aunt Becky scream through the door. She hates having the lower hand.

It's fun to stand up for myself, for once. I usually hide among the halls and stay quiet, doing what I'm told. I don't know what got into me, but I like it.

I put the keys into the car to start it up.