What She Said

Chapter 1

( A/N So the start of this is actually brutal. And it is really only a little part of the first paragraph. But, what happens is the main characters' parents are killed before they get out of their car after dropping said character off at a friends' house to stay the night. I am warning you now, but you can still read it if you want)

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Living on your own isn't something easy to do. I've heard that plenty of times. Everyone I have talked to about the subject promised me so. For the past three years I have experienced being by myself. Three years ago, exactly, became the worst day of my life. January 3, 2315, just one week after I turned thirteen, my parents were shot and killed in their car right before they stepped out to go inside. They had just got home from dropping me off at my friend Sarahs' house. When her mom told me that there were people at the door the next morning, I thought it was my parents. I was wrong.

The officers at the door were kind, even drove me home so I could be alone there. I cried for weeks. When I went back to school, it was like nothing happened. Sarah watched me with a close eye, though, as she was the only one that truly knew what happened. The students thought I had been sick. I let them believe it.

I was orphaned, sad and alone. Others tried to get me to stay with someone, I refused. To this day I stand my decision to stay in my house alone. It is lonely, but I like it.

For the past two years, I mourned my family. Today is no different. As I looked in my full length mirror, I fixed my skirt and saw a few stray tears. I ran my finger across the trail and gone were the tears. As I have done in the past, I next went to my bathroom to do my make-up. Never has my make-up been heavy and caked on. Light and natural. Just as I like it.

I took my time with breakfast. When one can't sleep, they tend to be quick to get ready. The loud shrill of my phone rang out and I looked at the screen. As the screen lit up, I saw Sarah had sent me a text. I picked up my phone, unlocked it and sent a text back. I let out a slight chuckle, knowing her all too well.

As I finished cleaning up, the doorbell rang. On my way over to the door, I picked up my backpack and purse. When I opened the door, Sarah gave me a hug. I looked at my best friend. We are the same height, five foot eight. She has long brown hair, which she curled. She was wearing a dress, black as my clothes, as to take the day to mourn with me.

Once the final bell rang, Sarah and I met up to go to the cemetery. Sarah has always been like a sister to me, so it fits that she always came with me. I loved the flowers she would pick out before we went to their graves. For my mom, red roses. For my dad, yellow daisies. He argued that they weren't just a women's flower. They were his favorite. The two sets were placed before their headstones, the colors bringing a sort of beauty to such a sorrowful place. Every year, I thought to bring my camera to capture the beauty, but I never did. It felt too personal to add to my public portfolio.

After an hour of visiting my parents, we left to go back to my place. We made cookies and hot chocolate and watched movies. By nine we finished four movies and Sarah had to go. Three years ago, I told everyone I didn't believe that my parents could hear me. After all, they were dead, no one and nothing could hear you after they were dead. But every year, at their graves and at night, I would talk to them. I don't know if they can hear me, but it feels nice.