Iris's P.O.V.
I spun around in circles, singing to Ed Sheeran. "White lips, pale face, breathing in snowflakes." I continued to sing to one of my favorite songs and dance horribly until I collapsed on my bed in laughter. I stared at my ceiling and shook my head. I was a totally different person when I was singing, but when I wasn't I was a very serious girl. Maybe that was why I didn't have a boyfriend.
I looked in my mirror and realized that my silver hair was a bit messier than usual and brushed it out a bit. However, the brush got stuck which resulted in the ever fun game, "Get the fucking brush out of my god-damned hair." It's really one of my personal favorites. Note the sarcasm.
And when I say silver, I mean an incredibly pale blonde with gray tints, due to a very embarrassing premature graying that was very common in my family.
My only sibling was my little brother, AJ, who had black hair like my mom. I love the kid, but he's fucking annoying when he wants to be! He's also a big coward and is constantly having me let him sleep on my floor next to my bed because he's afraid a monster is going to get him or something really stupid like that.
He stood in my doorway, holding a stuffed monkey doll he carries around with him everywhere, which is incredibly stupid seeing as how he was almost nine. He should've outgrown that sort of thing by now.
"What?" I asked.
"There's a creepy guy following me." he whined. I stood up, actually scared for once. Was there some pedophile following my brother?
"Has he touched you inappropriately?"
I asked. Then, I grabbed him by his hand.
"No..." he answered.
"What's he look like?" I asked.
"He looks like a skinny, kinda tall, kinda short guy. Maybe an inch bigger than you. He has black, messy hair, a white hood, black pants, completely milk white skin, and he never blinks. Oh! Oh! And, he has this big creepy smile! He likes to laugh a lot!" he explained.
I put my face in my palm. It was just some stupid imaginary friend. "He's not real, AJ. Go back to playing with your toys."
My brother tended to make up imaginary friends and would sometimes tell me how he would play with them. Though, some of them actually make me question whether he needs to talk to a therapist or not due to how messed up they are, they always sound fake.
So far, I've heard about a faceless man in a tall suit with tentacles, a man with well-groomed brown hair and a mask that looks like the lips had been covered in sharpie, his brother who was a shadow man with red eyes and a stitched mouth who always wears a hood, a man with no arms or legs that floats and sort of looks like a Pokemon trainer, and a bunch more that I don't remember. Why do I have to have the messed up brother that can't grow up?
I went downstairs to see my father and his side bitch making out. When my mother wasn't home, he would invite a whore he works with to come down to our house and be his side ho. I pretty much fed myself and my brother, as my mom was out a lot and my dad was too busy getting nailed. I went to the stove and began to prepare a meal for the four of us, as my dad made us feed the slut.
Trying to ignore the noises they made as they sucked each other's faces, I prepared the dinner. It was hard not to scream at my dad, as I had a very short temper and tended to yell. A lot.
The chicken I was making smelled decent, which was rare because I'm a horrible cook. I begin to plate things and told my father and his whore that dinner was ready. AJ heard and rushed downstairs. I served everyone and glared at the woman the entire time I ate.
She knew I was staring at her with hatred in my eyes, and she gave me a cocky smile. I gave her my middle finger and my father gasped.
"Iris Felicity Morerose!" he snapped.
"What? Are you going to yell at me for being pissed at some bitch?" I screamed. I shoved the entire chicken in my mouth and ran to my room in tears.
YOU ARE READING
The Killer's Girl (Watty Awards 2013)
RomanceIris Morerose is a girl living with her at home father, her little brother who has too big of an imagination to the point of where it worries Iris, and her working mother who works from seven to twelve every day. She has a hatred for her father, who...