After You're Gone

     Part One

     After my sister, Alexis, died nothing was the same. It was like all happiness was drained out of life. Like the sun never shined as it used to. Like all reason to go on was just sucked away. 

     Alexis was perfect. She had straight, blonde hair. She had light blue eyes. She had a figure a model would envy. She had popularity and friends. She was smart, pretty, loving, and fair. Everything she touched turned to gold. She didn't have a mean bone in her body. She was perfect.

    Me, on the otherhand, was anything but. My reddish waves were a little longer than my shoulders. My grey, almost silver eyes, had lost all life. I had some curves (B cup). I was 5' 3" while Alexis had been 5' 7".  I was an outcast. I had 2 real friends. I'm shy and hope to blend into the walls. I was younger than Alexis. She had just turned 18 and I had just turned 16 the week before she was found dead.

     Alexis shouldn't have died. If anyone should have, it should have been me. She went missing, and 2 days later she was found dead, all of her bones broken.  Her funeral had been horrible. Her many friends were there and I knew they wished it had been me.

     School was a nightmare. People hated me. I got sneers, dirty looks, and heated gazes filled with such hatred I wished to be invisible. It was hard. Alexis had been my rock. She had stood up for me when they pushed me near the edge. They left me alone when she was there.

     But now she isn't and everybody hates me. Not only had school changed, but so did home. Mom was a shell. Vacant. She was oblivious to the world. Dad did just the opposite. He could come home drunk and scream at mom. When she didn't react, he moved onto me. It started with screaming and then escalated to abuse. He hit me, slapped me, punched me, kicked me, bit me, scratched me, whipped me, etc. I could go for hours. I knew he blamed me. I blamed me too. I was the one who had had the fight with her. I was the reason she had run off and gotten killed.

     Mom and dad used to be good parents. They used to take us to Dairy Queen every Saturday and buy us ice cream. They used to spoil us and get us whatever we wanted. They used to love me. But now I had screwed up to the point of no forgiveness.

          I, Lacey Annabelle McBoche, was a pathetic excuse for a form of life. My very existence was a flaw to humanity. I was the blemish on the face of the human race. My own parents hated me and it was all I could do to stay alive after the beatings I received so frequently. My only hope was to turn 18 and move far away. To try to start over and change my name. To, hopefully, disappear off of the face of the earth.

     Unfortunatly, I had 2 years to go.....