Autobiography of the Taylor family

05.03.2010

Ashton Tyler

So I decided to start writing an autobiography after my parents' deaths. I've never done anything like that...writing a diary, I mean. Or is this a diary? No,it's more like...A journal? What's the difference, really? 

Anyways. Where do I begin? The police is constantly around our house, trying to find any evidence that they can. Any evidence that will point out to the murderers. And I suppose that if they find this diary, it can be considered evidence as well, right? So then they shouldn't find it. Or no...Maybe they should? So that I can prove my innocence? I guess that maybe...Maybe I should use that diary as some sort of proof. 

So, there I go.

To start off, I haven't killed anyone. So, that automatically means I haven't killed my parents, right? If it doesn't, then I'll say it - I haven't killed my parents.

Sure, we had a lot of arguments. They'd often scream at me and even hit me with a belt...

Maybe I shouldn't have said - or rather wrote - this. You see, in front of other people me and Mira would say, that they would sometimes slap us. Well, that is true...to an extend. Actually, they'd slap us everyday. But if it was only the slapping, I suppose it wouldn't have been so bad. But they also hit us and called us names. My sister, Mira, she is...well, she hated them. She is three years older then me (she is nineteen) and ever since I could remember, they'd ridicule her, telling her she is "good for nothing" and that she wouldn't achieve anything. When we were children, Mira would often cry herself to sleep...That is,if she slept. Most of the time she didn't...or rather couldn't. But when we got older, Mira began having panic attacks and once hit dad over the head with a baseball bat. 

But then again, Mira is not a murderer. She would have never murdered anyone, not even our parents. If only you could see her at the funeral! She was bawling her eyes out. She screamed "Sorry!" again and again. It was painful to watch. She may have hated our parents, yes, but she would have never done it.

Anyways, enough about that. To be honest, I still cry every time that I get reminded of Mira at the funeral. It's painful. It was painful to watch, it's painful to remember. You know, I'm crying as I am writing this but...but I guess it doesn't matter. I'll be alright. So will Mira. I guess we both will heal. Time heals,right? Or at least so I've heard. That time will heal us.

Whatever. I guess I should tell you something about me...About time, eh? I mean, perhaps I should have started with that, shouldn't I? Well, OK. What should I say? My name is Ashton but everyone calls me Ash, except when they are angry at me. Mira calls me Ashy. Ashy...I get laughed at for it by friends. It's honestly quite humiliating. Especially when she calls me that in front of our friends. I hate it when she does it. But there is one thing I hate even more - when she calls me by my full name when she is very, very, angry. And no, I don't mean annoyed. I mean literally furious. It doesn't happen to her often, but when it does...let's just say you wouldn't want to be in her way. 

However, to be honest, her outbursts have gotten much less common now that our parents are gone. In fact, she had been angry only once for the last two weeks. I think that our parents being gone for good makes her much less stressed. 

I once again changed the topic, didn't I? So, my name is Ash and I am sixteen. I'm studying in the local high school. I play guitar and write song lyrics. Music is my passion. Mira says that she remembers that when I was a child I would always make music with anything I could get my hands on - pens, pencils, doors even! I'd knock on the doors, making some sort of a melody. Of course, it wasn't something fabulous, or even good. In fact, Mira said, it used to annoy both her and our parents and the three would constantly yell at me to stop. I guess that was the one and only thing they agreed on. 

My parents never supported my passion for music so me and Mira had to save money together to have enough for a guitar. I remember it clear as day. I was ten and I asked mom and dad for a guitar. They denied, saying that a guitar was useless and that I'd better get some new clothes or a book. And don't get me wrong - I love reading. But I wanted a guitar. I cried all night that day and Mira promised that if I helped her save money, she would buy me a guitar. And so, we started saving money. It took us about a year to save 204$. With them, I went to the local store and bought a guitar - a Stagg. I'd forever be thankful to Mira for that. 

Despite everything I've told you, our parents weren't bad in every aspect. In fact, they were really kind for some things. For example,they loved animals. We'd often volunteer at the local animal shelter and, after about a mouth of volunteering, they offered for us to adopt a dog! We called it Chock. My parents took great care of it. Also, they never yelled at me for grades. They said that the educational system was flawed. That it was so wrong that they didn't rely on on it to educate us - me and Mira. In fact, they relied much more on "practical experience" and the things we read on books. They let us read any book, no matter if they themselves liked it. Then,we'd often have a discussion for the book. 

That's the story of my life, I guess. The story about me, my parents and Mira. And then, 23rd February came and Mira called me while I was at school to tell me that our parents had been killed. I rushed home and found her there - in the entrance of our house, on her knees, tears rolling down her face. Soon after, the police arrived and...and things have never been the same ever since.