River of Red

I

I wish I could say I'm heroic, but I am not. I wish I could say I saved the one I care about, but alas, I could not. People say I'm a hero, someone to be worshipped, but I am nothing but a girl. And this is my story.
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The warm summer breeze whistled in my ears, creating a sweet symphony of sounds. Only my situation made the beautiful day sour.
"KATRINA!"
I cringed, my mom, the epitome of bitches, screamed from the kitchen. I had been sitting on the deck while my mom talked to the school Principal on the phone. I couldn't have helped that people always blame me for things I do. Lately, Dalton, an ugly bitch, had said that I left a can of chewed tobacco on the bus.
I mean, Really? Who freaking does that?
He's so immature, and he hates me because when I was a freshman I beat his ass. He's two years ahead of me, so I was currently in my sophomore year.
Back to my mom.
I brushed off the dirt from my butt, and proceeded into the kitchen. My mom was standing next to the fridge, absolutely fuming. I tried to force a meager smile onto my face, but it slipped away.
She slammed her hand against the fridge, "What the fuck is the meaning of this Katrina!? I thought I taught you better!? You left a can of fucking chew on the bus!?" She screeched, "your ass is grounded!"
I didn't respond, knowing that it would only make her more angry if I did. She stomped up to me, shoving her face into my own, and whacked me on the side of my head, causing my head to snap to the left.
"Why the fuck won't you say anything!? Huh? Don't have a fucking attitude with me!"
I took a deep breath, "I didn't do it mom." I said quietly.
"What the fuck did you say?" She said, dangerously low. "I said what the fuck did you say!?" She screamed, straight into my ear.
She smacked me on my cheek, making my head snap, and face burn. I clenched my fist to keep from hitting her back.
"YOU DON'T FUCKING TALK TO ME! You are a worthless piece of trash! Get the fuck out of my house!" To get her point across more, she punched me hard in the gut, making me wheeze.
Still breathing very difficultly,  I bolted out of the house.
I don't know where I was running, I just wanted to put as much distance between her and me as possible. She didn't always used to be this evil. Two years ago was the first time she smacked me, and I told her I would move in with my dad. Too bad that never happened.
One year ago, on August 10, 2014, my brother, Vince, and my dad had left to go look at a house. I didn't want to go, and I also did not want to stay with my mom, so I stayed  the night with my friend Hanna.
That day had been rainy day, and the roads had been slick.
No one could have guessed what happened, all we know is they must have hydroplaned and ran straight smack dab off the road. The truck went into a creek, where it was submerged.
My dad and Vince were never found.
After months of strenuous searching, to no prevail, we had to stop looking. They were declared dead, and me and my mom had to get on with things.
My mom was divorced with my dad, but it turns out she still loved him. She ended up blaming me for their death, and that's how I am what I am today.
I'm pulled out of my thoughts as a crow cries overhead. I stopped running, pulling in laborious breaths. I sat down on the shoulder of the road, and checked to make sure I was still in one whole piece. My stomach and ribs ached where she had  punched me, and my face was stinging.
I heard the sound of a car rumbling in the distance. Thinking it was my mom, I sprang up, and tried to ignore the angry throb in my gut, and ran towards the woods for cover. Squatted behind a large oak tree, I watched the road. Soon, a tan Ford Freestyle rumbled from the direction of the house. It was my mom, probably on her way to Jerry's house to go get some... if you know what I mean. Jerry was my mom's creepy fat boyfriend she has had since I was fourteen, seeing as I was almost sixteen they've almost been dating for two years now.
I let out a relieved breath, thankful that I could go home and not sleep in the woods tonight. I would have gone to Hanna's house, but two months ago she moved to Colorado, leaving me alone with my mom. It was only May, so I still had almost five weeks before summer break.
I stood up from my crouch and headed down the road to my house. Cicadas were a plenty, singing their mournful song in the dying light. Leaves rustled behind me, and I swung around, fully expecting a stalker to stare at me, but there was nothing. I shrugged it off, suspecting it was a squirrel.
I turned back around and began walking again, but soon though, I heard another rustle, this time only closer to me than it had been before.
By this time I was a little panicked. So of doubled my pace, but again another rustle, only louder, closer, and bigger. I whirled around, and saw a dark outline of a man in the dying light.
I was freaked.
I ran.
I ran.
I ran all the way home.
As soon as I got into the house I slammed the door shut locked it, locked the garage door, the porch door, and the basement door. I locked all the windows and checked to make sure all the doors were locked again.
I turned on all the lights in the house and locked myself in my room. I made sure my blinds were closed tightly, grabbed a knife, and slipped into bed.
I pushed all my fear out of my head and thought;
Ill be fine.
 Ill be fine.
  Ill be fine.
   Ill be fine.
What a happy delusion.