Boxes. That is all I see now. Boxes surround me , as if their ready to attack me, high walls of them towering above me like sky scrapers. I looked around with big round eyes. Their shadows loomed over me as I cowered in fear below. Now I couldn't take it anymore. I quickly fled the room, in hope to escape my fears. Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Luna, I'm 15 and me and I just moved in with my big brother, his name is Alec, and he's 19.People say my name suites me, because I'm so mysterious and lonely. Most people would call me a loner, an outcast, but I believe to be a person who likes to observe people more than interact with them. That's how I learn about them. You might say I'm a creep. I think I'm just some person who stands in the shadows and watches. I never was bullied. Even the school's most ferocious bullies seem to be afraid of me and just stay away. I always have big, dark circles under my yellow/blue/grey eyes. People say it's my eyes. My eyes that make people afraid. Full of mystery, secrets and a desire to know everything. I wear a black hoodie all the time. Except when I sleep. My wardrobe consists of black clothes matched with some sunglasses. You might think I'm weak, but I practised boxing for a long time, another reason everyone stays away. I have short, blonde hair I just cut. My normal outfit consists of a black hoodie, black jeans in the winter and black shorts in the summer. Ok, enough about me, I'm not important anyways. I made my way, looking around our new 'home' I don't think it's a home yet. The bare walls and floor, are so clean and white, so new, that it just makes me want to get my paint set and draw all over it. It's too blanc. I paced around the room, examining every inch, every little crack and bump of the walls and ceiling. I've always hated my brother, he was with the 'populars', but to be fair he was a weak, pathetic excuse for a human being. He would laugh with his friends at me, the way I dress, the way I walk, everything, until one day I came up to them and punched them in the face, except him. Mum and Dad wouldn't have liked that.He's pathetic. He didn't even help his friwnds, just screamed like a little girl. I was always actually energetic and joyful when I was little in my childhood but I still was the good girl, doing what people told me to. He was the opposite, the drama queen, our house was full of his little tantrums when we were still with our parents. Mum and Dad. When I was 4, they passed away unexpectedly, killed together holding hands. I was the first to discover them on the floor, blood pooling around them, their hands touching, their eyes open. I screamed and broke down, shaking them, praying, hoping, waiting for them to wake up and tell me that everything is alright. But they didn't. They didn't. When my brother came down, he looked at me, then at our parents, then asked me, "Why are you crying? Their only people" That was the first time I snapped. I jumped on him, my eyes clouded with unshed tears, and that was also the first time I ever punched anyone. I broke his nose that time. That was the last time I cried. Now you know my sob story. After they died, lots of people who my parents were friends were with, came in with presents and flowers. I locked myself away, not wanting to see the sorrow in their eyes. However, Alec loved the attention and the amount of toys he would always get, bloating himself in all the extra pocket money he would get. Back to the point.
As I walked around my new room, I noticed a drawing on a wall that I haven't noticed before. It looked like something familiar, but there was only the outline. It was ruff work, not much detail, something an eleven years old would draw. You could see that the artist was in a hurry and something stopped him, from completing his work. But I still felt drawn to that painting. It didn't have anything special, but it made the walls of this room look less bare, so I decided to leave it. It was stuck to the wall with selatape, very ruffly. I smiled slightly at the clumsiness of the artist, and carefully adjusted it. As I did that, I noticed the lovely smell of something from my childhood. Yes, I got it, my favourite desert, apple and cinnamon crumble. That's strange. After that I ran out of that house for a run. To many thing going on.
Hello, this is the author speaking. Hope you liked it! I'd your thinking 'what the heck, this is supposed to be thriller' please don't worry, it will get scarier, but it will have a bit of romance ;)
If you have any ideas, please comment below, I will happily take all suggestions. Also, please comment if you like it. It encourages me to write more :)
