THis is a short story I wrote in.... about 6 hourse for a competition. I placed second place too xD but it didn't get published.. :/ I hope you all like it! I wrote it based on a ture story, but added alotttt to it to make it more readable. Enjoy!!
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Written By: Ashley~Rose
I had asked my father for cash the day before, just a few dollars, for spending money to take with me to church camp. I guess that’s why he thought I was the one who stole his money but I wished that he would be a little more open-minded about it. Anyone who knows me knows I would never steal, especially money because even at the age of fourteen I knew how hard it was to get cash.
Dad had all three of us lined up, standing in front of him and I was in dead center with Amanda to my right side and Kimberly to my left. He was angry- I’d not seen him this angry in a long time. It was as if his words were missiles in his mind’s eye and they were launching directly towards me: the suspected culprit.
I don’t even remember what he said that day. It started out as if he didn’t know, and wanted to have “family court” as he called it, to find out but before long you could tell he thought I had stolen his money. Soon after that he was ignoring the possibility that it could be Kimberly or Amanda, and was screaming at me as if I’d already been caught. Most of what I remember that day was the feeling of frustration and being hurt that he would think I would do something so low. In my mind he had zeroed in on me with no reasons or true facts and with only one clue. Even though he knew me better than anyone else, he was so sure I’d done it.
It hurt quite a bit. I was crying, the kind of silent cry where you feel void of energy. Tears were streaming down my face and I was slightly slumped over. My shoulders were sagging and it took all the respect I had to continue looking into his angry blood shot eyes, but I did.
He called me names, pointed his finger at me and gritted his teeth from over the coffee table. I tried to tell him I hadn’t taken his money, that I would never do it, but to be heard over him meant raising my voice, and when I did that he yelled some more about me being disrespectful.
I don’t know how long this went on, all I know is I was sore from standing in the same position for so long. When he finally dismissed us he said “leave, get out of my sight; you make me sick.” I turned and walked into my room, shut my door and wept leaning against the back of the door. I don’t know what Amanda and Kimberly did, all I knew is that I didn’t do it, and I wanted to know who did.
Somebody had taken a 100$ bill from our father. He found it missing from his wallet that morning before going into town and had immediately woke up for “family court”. I tried to think of who would’ve done it.
Amanda, who was my youngest sister, was thirteen. She was only 3 months younger than Kimberly and I couldn’t imagine it being her because she was raised the same way as I had been. She was taught to respect people and their possessions. And boy was she sweet. Most of the time she’d be the one giving you what she had, whether it was money or food or even clothes sometimes. There was no way it was her.
Me 2 younger brothers, Aaron and Zachary weren’t even tall enough to reach it, nor did they know where dad hid it. Aaron was 7 and Zachary was almost 5. They couldn’t have gotten it.
Now Kimberly…We didn’t know much about her. She was only 3 months older than Amanda and was dad’s biological daughter, but we only met her the year before, right after her mother had died. When her mom died, her dad, also my dad, was notified and dad was overjoyed that he would finally be able to see his daughter after all these years.
