I, The Minion #NaNoWriMo

Stalker

"You can be beautiful, wonderful, anything you want to be" 

- Little Mix

Chapter 4

Nothing.

I have absolutely nothing to write about myself. It should not have been this difficult to write about yourself, right? I mean, you know yourself better than anyone. My fingers remained hovering over the keys on my laptop.

It shouldn't be this hard to write a third person perspective on myself. I can be self-centered sometimes so writing about myself should be easy. However, here I sat, struggling.

'Hey, Brook? What do you think of me,' I texted Brook.

A minute later, I received a reply saying, 'Pretty, nice, and hilariously dumb. Lol.'

But of course, I should have expected that kind of reply from her. If I ask more, she would begin to question me so that was the end of our texting.

I would text Damon, but I'm still mad at him.

I also didn't feel like texting anyone else because I know they'll just give me the same response Brook gave me, the ones that I already know about myself.

I will not just write this essay for my grades. I also want to make a good impression before I graduate high school. I want the teacher to know that she has accomplished helping a stupid kid like me become somewhat not stupid. I also did not want to sound arrogant in my essay.

Desperate times calls for desperate measures.

"Colton!" I yelled. I get up and walk over to my little brother's room. I don't usually do this often because he and I hate each other but I need someone else's opinion of myself. He was the only one left I can think of. "Colton. . ."

"What do you want?" I hear his voice, laced with so much irritation in them already. I see him sitting on his study table, doing his homework I supposed.

"I need your opinion-" I started but was rudely cut off.

"I think you are selfish and annoying. You don't deserve to be called 'beautiful' by Damon or anyone, nor see you as an angel because you are merely near an angel. You're the devil's best friend and you are just so dumb," Colton started blabbing; all his words poking needles in my soul. "You want to know what mom and dad thinks of you, too?"

"That's enough. Thanks," I spat bitterly. I grit my teeth at him. "Thanks, Colton." I'm not sure if he noticed it, but I was hurt at the words he said. I don't know what wrong I did him that made him start hating me. The reason I don't like him is because of that attitude, of the way he treats me, like I am not even his older sister.

I walked back to my room, towards my table to grab my car keys.

One paragraph of my brother's opinion of me was enough to drive me mad, drive me out of the house.

I have about 5 hours to finish writing my essay, but instead, I am cruising around town. And then, I find myself driving over to Marco Lancaster's house.

I stood in front of a dirty white two-story house with a small wooden board nailed against one of the windows upstairs, as wind rush in through the gaping holes. It looks like some giant ripped off the roof and placing it back after stealing some Lucky Charms cereal. The roof was sagging terribly.

I was unsure if I should knock on the dull, dented door with its brass colored lock and door knob that was dulled with age. I wasn't even sure if the doorbell works. I would not dare touch that filthy thing with my fingers even. Who knows how many dirty fingers have touched that thing?