The day humans came into existence, good and bad flourished with it. Thousands of years to now Ellis experiences strange events a month away her thirteenth birthday. She drags herself into a world within reality but not known to it. She learns that...
My life started as a lie. Little by little my parents tried to keep me from the things of this world but really they should've saved themselves from me. Read this book as you like, know what you read is real, know that everyday life is nothing other than fighting for your life; if your reading for your precaution. It's not something you get to choose, it chooses you. Only you won't know until it happens, if you're even alive by then, but even before that they sense it, smell it, taste it off you. And by then you're a dead man. This is where I tell you turn around now and never look back or at this book again, but you insist. I'm telling you it's bad, as bad as you meeting Fate himself as gruesome people are trying to tear you apart. My one last word of advice if you don't listen right now is good luck and I told you so!
I guess every iconic story has starts out like this... My name is Ellis, yes like the island, Marie Blake. I was about a month shy of my thirteenth birthday when my life changed. I lived in a poor, two bedroom apartment in Cincinnati, Ohio with my parents, Jennifer and Kenneth Blake. My family owns a fitness center called Get Fit to Fitness. I guess you could say I had a pretty normal life, wrong. I always thought there was something different about my family, except my Nana Leigh Ann, she was the closest thing to normal I thought had, if I ever saw her at all.
So, it was the morning of July 8th. I was up bright and early at 6 a.m., I know waking up that early is weird for a twelve year old during summer, but I had a good reason and that was a stupid support group I was forced to enter by my mom. All because my social credits in seventh grade wasn't high enough, and to be honest my grades weren't the best either, the only way to pass into eighth grade; oh what a shocker, was to go to a support group during the summer. It's certainly not my fault if everyone in my grade acts like brats that need to get their actions under controlled. And every time I try to make friends, it either ends with milk in my face or a extremely rude comments.
Of course my appearance never helped either, I would wake up one morning in bloody cuts, ragged clothes and still be forced to go to school. I always looked in the mirror, not to see how good I look, (which is hardly ever) but to try to fix the thing I know can never be fixed, like the physical and internal scars or the ratty clothing I wear. When my parents opened that stupid center, I wished they'd realize that's where their money went. We're considered the poor kind of people in Cincinnati, too wealthy enough to live on the streets, too poor enough to buy stuff called necessities.
The first day, I truly started to live to my full meaning, went like this... "Get up! Ellis come on! We're gonna be late!" My mom hollered.
My eyes flashed open, kinda like children's eyes on Christmas morning, but more like 'Oh no, not today!' The bed was warm and wet (I know how gross that sounds). And the bed sheets I use to call white were now red. I gained more consciousness, pain too.
As I got out of bed, something was off. I got a feeling a person with OCD would get when a photo or piece of paper was out of place. My room felt like one of those freezers at a butcher shop, cold, not enough sunlight (even though the sun was shining through my bedroom curtains) and had the scent of rotting meat. I hated that room, that I was forced to call my room.
I wrapped myself in my blanket from the bed and darted for the bathroom down the hall. The door slammed shut.
"Ellis, Let's get a move on!" Now my dad, who should've left already for work, was in on harping down my throat too! "Sweet heart, blood. You're getting cuts again. Ellis we've already talked about this" he talked quietly from the other side of the door. In a split second my dad was in the kitchen.
Sometimes it's so hard, I can't help the cuts or the nightmares or the blood and my parents don't see that. They like to think they're self inflicted but I can't convince them they're not because I don't know what causes them.
I was taking my blanket off looking at my toes, all ten intact. I looked at the mirror, I was alone but the mirror said otherwise. A tall, dark figure with cuts and abrasions was hooked to me. In disbelief I squinted and blinked a couple times. Poof, like the tooth fairy, it was gone. I read a lot of books about ghosts and stuff; even read it on the internet, it's just hallucinations from drowsiness and drunkenness and if it's not that, then it's probably just desperation for attention.
I took a long shower, like, the longest one in my history book. I wanted all the blood gone. Whenever I saw blood, I thought of people suffering with; you know, murder and wounds. Then looked back at the mirror, covered; head to toe with cut and bruises. The worst one was on my forehead, three in a row. I took my brush out to tame my head of thick medium brown curls. If I didn't brush my hair in the morning, you'd mistake me for a lion. Got a fresh set of clothes with holes and walked to the kitchen.
"Donuts for forcing you to go" My dad, tall guy, salt 'n pepper hair with extremely dark eyes, passed me the box, fun fact about me, it's never a bad idea to get me donuts. I grabbed my observations notebook and two donuts on the kitchen counter. "You do know you were suppose to actually write in it do you?" I shrugged.
"How would Ms. Mills feel about it?" "I don't know, ask her." I didn't want my parents to know the truth that the one teacher they actually trust me with is a hippie, who loves smoking, wine and marijuana. She was a pretty cool guidance counselor when your parents are around, otherwise you can kiss your feelings goodbye, because she loves crushing them. So I walked out of the apartment into the old dark wearied hall, down one or two flights of stairs. When I got to the end of the first hall to the back door, there was... the strangest mark (to be honest I've seen it before; it appears on again and off again on my cuts and bruises. Kinda like a temporary tattoo) it covered the whole creaky, dark wall. It was like an apple core with drops of water, at least I hope it's water, on the right side in a circle of smoke fuming in the wallpaper and into the ceiling.
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Photos and visions were popping in my head. Dead people, murder scenes were only the beginning of it. Through the images every victim had that mark on their head, burned on. Oh, you should've of seen their innocent faces and the people who felt amazing after killing poor children, elderly and even adults who had great lives, I couldn't comprehend why I saw it till it all stopped. My head spun on straight and started to hyperventilate. I never felt so out of the wind.
Right when I was catching my breathe, a pale white hand, ugly; just saying, with extremely sharp nails grabbed my shoulder from behind. I squealed, so loud that the Wilson's on the top floor was screaming "SHUT UP"
"Ellis!" I blinked again the hand was normal and it was my mom's hand, I turned to face her. Her eyes that were once dark brown were now bright red with the same mark in them. "We need to leave." She hissed with her pupils getting smaller, then sharper.
Hey guys, Yay, you made it to the end of the chapter! Do you like it, so far? Got the answer to the poll, you wanted. Shoutout to normalsboring1who recommended me to post it. So, make sure you follow her, she has great books and art to die for.
Don't be afraid to comment recommendations and such. Should I continue this book??
