The Remembering (Alex Gaskarth Fanfiction)

4. Hangovers

Chapter 4 - Hangovers

Monday 22, 2005

  My morning routines go something like this... It was usually my brother who woke me up and I would instantly groan and wish that the sun no longer existed. I despised the sunlight that crept its way through my blinds. I had the tendency to blast my music as I got ready. It was the only way for my body to function at the early hour.

 I spent a small bit of time doing my hair. It was usually wavy with a single small braid that was tied down in the back of my head. If there ever happened to be a day when a person saw me with a different look to my hair, it would mean one thing; I was dead.

 This particular Monday morning wasn't as bad as the other Mondays I had experienced before in the past. I was a tad bit anxious to see how today would plan out to be. Especially because of the simple fact of what happened yesterday with Alex and I. Today I shall deem it to be interesting, hopefully it would be.

  I'd probably be devastated if Alex treated me differently from what he was like yesterday. But it was his problem and not mine if he was, right?

  All this boy crap. I had never been the one to be attracted to a boy like this ever. Now, I was beginning to wish I had a girl best friend. Hell, even a mother would be nice. It appeared that I was all alone on this one.

 Speaking of my mother, it's time to talk about her, isn't? She left my family when I was in the first grade, right after my older sister was brutally murdered. I don't remember much of the day nor do I even much of my sister. My father and brother told me stories of the day, but somethings just don't add up.

 One of the 'somethings' being that the crook who invaded our house hadn't been captured and at this point I don't think he will ever be. Or maybe it was a her.

  I vaguely remembered what I saw. I think he was wearing a black suit or maybe was it gray? It hurt to think about it, especially within the heart. Her name was Kenzie. She was just sixteen when the tragic event happened. My brother was just only in fifth grade at the time.

  But on with Kenzie, she was the light of my parents’ lives. She was on the track team and had a full and great life ahead of her. She was in her sophomore year and everyone knew her and loved her very much. I had always craved that type of attention secretly but it seemed too impossible for me. She volunteered on the weekend at the local pet shelter along with the elderly housing care. So sweet and kind - something l would never be even if I tried my hardest.

  Everyone was heartbroken and when I say everyone, I mean everyone at school and around hometown. Practically, everyone I knew.

 My brother and I started to gain pity and sympathy from everywhere we looked and turned to. The places we went to, it seemed everyone heard about it. Some were strangers that were 'touched' by the story. Or at least that was what they all said. My parents discussed about moving and getting away from the town that held so much memory of her.

   That was when my parent's relationship went downhill. My dad over the two months couldn't seem to let go of his first daughter. My mother kept a strong face, but could no longer take it anymore so she packed her bags and high ended it. Leaving my brother and I with our grieving dad.

  My father picked himself up and became a workaholic, quitting his dream of being a writer. There were weeks where my dad didn't come home. So my brother took on the role of 'Dad and Mom'. He cooked and cleaned along with walking me to school. And that was that.

 Or at least that was what I was told. Again with being little and half of things were splotchy in my mind.

  Although it was still a part of my personal Hell, it was with me anywhere I went. Like I said with the one AM thinking that makes you sad within. My one AM thinking turns into my morning thinking. Lunch thinking. After school thinking. Evening thinking. Then back to night thinking. The one spitting image of the slaughter and blood was seamed into my brain. I was there when the stabbing with the knife happened, along with my mother.