The End

So Much for The Lucky Clova

I wrote this when I was 12 with the help of my oldest sister.
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  I toss around in my bed and glance at the clock. 6:00. The numbers glare back, taunting as the hand inches closer, closer, closer, to Chloe, to blood, to high school to... BEEP BEEP BEEP! I jump and curse the damn clock as I slam the button down. My day begins.

I scrutinise myself in the mirror, I try not to on most days but hey, today's special; first day back after Christmas. The girls will prance around in skirts so short they could pass for neck chiefs, boys with new haircuts and eyes falling out their sockets as they ogle. Oh I know the social rules all right, shame I'm the loser. My chapped lips leer back at my pale face and I sigh as the mirror steams up. The house is silent. I settle down in front of the television switching on the news.

"Police have confirmed yet another missing girl believed to be a victim, to what the public name, The Kid Snatcher..."

This was hardly news. Girls had been snatched left, right and centre and the kidnapper still hadn't been caught. Weird. I grab an apple and head out. Blaring horns and several shouted curses later, I flip my hood up and enter school. Big mistake.

"U-G-L-Y, you aint got no alibi. You ugly, yeah yeah, you ugly!" Chloe orchestrates my personal anthem, it's such a hit. Suddenly I'm shoved and the grimy, yellow floor rushes towards me. A blue boot kicks my ribs and I curl into myself and wait for it to end.

"You've got it coming, four leaf Clova, you've got it coming bad." She hisses.

The bell rings and the crowds disperse and trickle away. I run out of the school holding my ribs. It hurts more each time. As I walk I see a black tinted car start up and trail behind me. My pace quickens and I swerve into a side street but then I'm falling again, firm hands pressing a cloth to my mouth.

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My eyes struggle to open as I'm hauled out the car, my head throbbing as I try to make sense of the blackness surrounding me. I'm slammed into a chair and feel something cold press against my neck. A knife. It digs into my flesh and I scream as I feel the hot blood trickle down my skin, its rusty smell hanging in the air. It smells of death in here. Hot breath brushes against my lips and I gag as a sweet, sickening cloud hangs over who ever is holding the knife. A cold finger trails down my cheek, pushing against the fresh cut and laughing softly.

"Well Clova, I told you you had it coming."

My hair is pulled as my head is yanked back and the blindfold is ripped off. My eyes refocus and suddenly a figure forms in front of me. A glint of a blade, a lunge and I gasp, my eyes wide with terror as I'm stabbed into the chair.

"Another one down, I wonder who'll be next. Wanna pick?"

My life seeps through my top, throat aching as I whisper, "Why Chloe, why?"