My Life With a Killer (Jimmy Casket. VenturianTale Fanfiction)

Chapter 1

(Carter's POV)
I laid face down on the couch. My black clothes were freshly washed and my black nails were neatly painted. I let out a small grunt to show my displeasure.

"Can you help me get the rest of these boxes?" Jessie, my older brother, asked.

"How can you just stand there and pretend like nothing happened?" I asked.

"Look, I know you're sad about what happened to mom and dad but laying there and dressing in black won't change anything," Jessie said. "We just have to move on and try to make life normal again."

"But life will never be normal again," I whined.

"Well then we just have to make it as normal as possible. Now get up and help me get the rest of the boxes out of the truck," he ordered. "I don't want them charging us for keeping it for an extra day."

Jessie struggled as he carried a large cardboard box into the kitchen. I groaned, pushing myself off the couch and out the front door. The back of the moving truck was half filled with boxes and furniture. I took the smallest box I saw and walked into the house.

"Seriously Carter?" Jessie asked.

"What?" I asked, biting back a smile.

"It may be small but it's heavy."

"What's in it?" Jessie questioned.

I set the box down onto the kitchen counter. Despite its size it's actually heavy. I grabbed a knife out of a nearby box and cut the tape that sealed it closed. When I opened the flaps I was met with a box full of my moms old jewelry.

"Oh," I said sadly.

I slumped down into a chair. I could feel tears at the back of my eyes and I fought to keep them back.

"Look at the bright side," Jessie advised. "Now you can have all her old jewelry."

At that point I couldn't keep the tears in any longer. Jessie wrapped me into a hug and I buried my face into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "That wasn't the right thing to say."

"I hate Jimmy Casket!" I yelled into his shoulder.

"I know," Jessie agreed, rubbing my back. "I do too."

"I miss them so much," I whispered.

"Why don't I get the rest of the boxes and you go wipe your nose?" Jessie suggested.

I pulled away from him and slowly made my way towards the bathroom. I looked around but saw no tissue box. I looked out the door and up the stairs. Hesitantly I made my way up and down the hall. I slowly opened up the door and peered inside. The mattress that had been sitting on the floor was now gone and the only furniture remaining was the dresser. I was hit with a wall of emotions and I thought I was going to be sick. This is my parents room. The room where I found them dead the morning before. My brother had hired professional cleaners but there were still some remaining spots of blood on the carpet. I tiptoed over to the dresser, snatching the box of tissues then running out the door. When I got to the bathroom by my bedroom I noticed a blue and green striped box on the back of the toilet.

"Are you kidding me?" I asked aloud. "There was already a freaking tissue box in here!"

I sighed taking the Kleenex and wiping my nose. Turning the water to cold I splashed it up into my face. I dabbed my face with a towel to dry it off. That was something my mom always told me to do. She said if I rubbed my face then it would cause wrinkles. I stared back at my reflection, into my silver eyes with small blue specks. They were the same as my dad's. My thick, jet-black hair was messy and tangled. I sadly grabbed a hairbrush and tried to get all the knots out. After attempting, and failing, I sighed and set down the brush. Outside the sun was starting to set. I felt my stomach twist and turn. After what happened I've been afraid to go to sleep. Last night I sat in my bad, curled up under my blankets and jumping at the smallest sounds. Jimmy. He was my mortal enemy. The thought of him made me want to throw up. Jessie had tried to comfort me last night but I wanted to be alone. Thinking back to it I felt guilty. He probably wanted comforting too but I was too upset to notice.I dragged myself out the door and down the stairs to find my brother talking with someone. He looked like he was in his early twenties, a year or two older than me. He has short blond hair, blue eyes, and a big, white smile.