I Guess Jails My Thing

3.

"Hey mom I'm home!" I called. I slid my shoes off and set them on the stairs so I could bring them up with me. "Mom!" I called.

I walked around the first floor, checking the living room and the kitchen, expecting to at least see her or a note about her going out.

"Mom!" I called again. I turned and headed towards the stairs.

I leaned down and picked up my shoes before slowly walking up the creaking steps.

"Mom! Where are you?" I yelled.

I felt my heart pound against my chest as I walked up stairs. I walked down the hall. I searched my parents room and their bathroom. Still, there was nothing here. I gripped tightly onto the shoes in my hands as I headed towards my room.

"Doesn't seem like she's home." I mumbled as I pushed open my bedroom door.

I flicked on the lights and when I turned back my eyes widened and the shoes fell from my hands. "Mom!" I screamed.

Blood. There was blood everywhere.

It was splattered on my walls and blood was pooled onto my comforter, probably seeping into the mattress.

My eyes filled with tears and my knees began to shake. "Oh my god. Oh my god. OH MY GOD!" I shrieked as I feel to my knees and started to shake, tears running down my cheeks as I let my breathing run rampid.

Banging was heard on the door downstairs but I didn't move. I couldn't move. Not until I had seen her killer after the police took me. After I was framed.

~*~

I gasped as I shot up from my bed. I felt the vomit slithering it's way up my throat, clawing and scraping as I tried to force it down.

I jumped up from the bed and went to the toilet when I couldn't hold it back any longer, letting up my meals from the day before.

When I was done heaving I fell against the wall gasping for air. My throat raw and every breath I took made me hate that I had to throw up.

It always came back like a virus on the day of her death. Every year since I'd remember seeing her and spill my guts out and feel disgusting for days.

It's his fault I thought as I tried to slow my breathing. It's all Peters fault. Why did he have to kill my mother?

I remembered the look of betrayal that was etched on her face as they showed me the crime scene photos.

Her own husband, my father had to kill her just to get at me. He wanted to get rid of us. He wanted us gone. He killed her and framed me for his crime, I just know he did.

~*~

Breakfast finally came after I couldn't fall back asleep for the rest of the night and I trudged down the corridors. I felt like death as I ignored the food line and immediately went to grab a glass of water.

I filled it to the brim before I walked over to my usual spot at the table Mr. 'Prince Charming' and I shared every since my first day.

I sat down while carefully setting the glass onto the table top. I let out a sigh as I rested my head down onto the table and closed my eyes.

My throat was only slightly better. After being up for so long I threw up water twice more after that and my nerves only seem to be increasing in delicacy.

I heard the sliding of a tray and looked up to see my acquaintance set his tray onto the table. "Hey you're not looking to good." I nodded as I set my head back down on my arm. "Are you alright?" On instinct I nodded.

He sighed as he shook his head. He reached out and placed a hand to my forehead. I felt my cheeks warm as his skin came in contact with mine.

I never got to experience anything a normal middle schooler or high school got to experience. And one of those was making guy friends and dating. And since I never got comfortable with guys having a guy friend in jail made life even more awkward.

His eyes widened as he slowly pulled his hand back. "You're burning up." His  eyes watching me carefully as I shook my head.

"Yes you are." He argued.

"I'm not." I croaked. My throat was so dry that I began to cough, the air quickly rushing in and out of my lungs hurt more and I quickly sat up and took a few sips of my water.

I was like this every year. It wasn't a contagious sickness and they had it in my medical file. It was a PTSD kinda thing and there was nothing they could do. Letting me sit in bed all day wouldn't help much either.

When I looked back at the boy his eyes were sparkling and a huge grin was on his face. "She speaks." He whispered.

I rolled my eyes as I picked up my glass and finished the rest of it before I stood up and walked over to fill up the small container.

"Hey hold up!" I continued to walk but slowed my pace slightly to let the Prince catch up to me. He smiled as he walked next to me. "I forgot to grab a glass when I was over here." He said shyly as he rubbed the back of his neck.

I rolled my eyes but filled up my glass, a smile trying to tug at my lips.