Trying to keep the player

 Warning: I wrote this far too many years ago. So not anywhere near my best. Don't bother to point out mistakes, assume I already know about them. It's pure roughdraft but it's still really funny and gives the background of the story. Feel free to skip to the third book.

Chapter 1

         When you’re a kid, and you’re filled with innocence, everything is okay because you don’t grasp the meaning of what’s happening around you. Then, time passes by and you’re suddenly expected to change. Reality hits you and the world becomes harsher and forced to cope with problems. Wishes and dreams are lies used to cover up a broken world.

            Today was crap, putting it simply. The clouds were killing my mood and going back home won’t get better if someone is there. My house was a dead end, literately. I took my black backpack from my back and pulled out the key.

            Please don’t be here…

            PLEASE don’t be there!

            Oh god, I hear noises….

           

            Taking a big deep breath, and I mean BIG, I unlocked the door. I peeked inside and felt relieved I wasn’t seeing anything–yet. My senses were telling me something was going on; something that will scar me for the rest of my life and make me crawl into a corner and go crazy. I looked at the century old carpet catching any drops of blood. I took another step and threw my backpack on the black leather couch. I was listening to Faber Drive on full blast on my iPod. I sighed in relief, knowing that the crime wouldn’t be in my room, then opened the door quickly and looked straight ahead. My mouth popped open and dropped to the ground, my whole body frozen in horror. The most hideous, terrifying, nauseating, ugly–you get the point. I’m running out of adjectives.

            “Daphne,” I called her name shutting my eyes and trying to find a weapon somewhere near my door. I kept a bat around here somewhere.

            “Oh!” a male voice yelled out, shocked.        

            “…Out…” I said slowly and then spelled it out. “O. U. T. OUT!” The image of skin on skin was now burned into my mind; no amount of therapy will get this image out. I swallowed and my head was burning of anger. They were on my bed, my room, my sheets, my pillow and who knows where else they’ve been! This is just so… Oh my god…

              “Tell whoever that person is to chill,” the dude says to my ugly, horrible, twenty-two year old sister. I ran out into the hallway and found my baseball bat. I’ve been taught well by my parents how to deal with maniacs. Since I was already blind, I went back to my room.