Please, Don't Strike

Prologe

It happened when I was 12, in another state. I lived in Maine, northern Maine. Life was perfect, 2 brothers, 2 parents, 3 grandparents. I had a dog, named Selly. It changed 4 days after my birthday.

I was having my birthday party that day, that night. We would have had a sleepover. 7 friends were coming!

But around noon my father came home, he came too early. He had red eyes, dark circles under them and his clothes were horrible. I greeted him but he pushed me into the wall, walking away from me. My mother greeted him, she got pushed too. My brothers came downstairs and ran to my dad and, again, got pushed. It looked like he had finally broken, and ran upstairs. We were all silent as we stood up, seeing if each other were all right. We were, just not for long.

I heard a click and rattling footsteps march downstairs. My mother and I looked to the stairs as my older brothers ran to the couch to play video games. My father appeared.

He had a gun.

I stood frozen as he pointed the barrel at my mothers face. She tried to persuade my father to stop, he just pulled the trigger, killing her. By then I had found my feet before he shot the televison, producing a loud spark. I ran to the door, still open from when he came in only minutes ago. I heard a boom, and scream, and another boom silencing the cry. I ran and ran until I felt as if I would pass out. I found myself in the middle of the city, only a half mile from the police station. I ran into the station, getting a stare from many others.

I told the officers what I saw, after I sat on the bench. I didn't cry, didn't yell. Only sat. Only doing what I had done before my father came inside my house.

They sent me with my grandparents, which was fine, until one night they both died of old age. I was 15 by then, almost 16. My other grandparent was in an old folks home, needing help herself.

Noone knows where I am now, across the United States.

Now I live in Ohio, staying hidden from any family that could track me down. I live alone, age 17, senior year. I still go to school, I don't have any friends, and that is okay with me.

I am Wynne Gyri, and I have a story.

***AN***

HEYA! So, first chapter, likey-likey?

Yes?

No?

Kinda sorta?

DO NOT PANIC! The guy in the next chapter is special and different. Keep reading guys.

1s and 2s

-Livi