Dead by 24: An Autobiography

Where It All Started

"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. Then he turned

around.

"No. It can't be you." I said in shock, before I heard a loud bang before everything

went black.

My Name is Oren Winter. I'm 24, Aquarius, and lived in a small 1 bedroom apartment in the middle of San Jose, California. But that's not always how it was. Let me tell you the story of how I was murdered, and see if you would have done anything different.

I was born in a small town in New York. Adams, New York to be exact, population a little over 5,000. My parents died in a car accident the night I was born. Somehow I was pulled from the wreckage and put into foster care. I stayed with the Rodricks family for the first part of my life. I had 2 foster siblings; one older brother, Nathan, and one younger sister, Alice. They were okay for being a foster family. When you consider other foster children's families, I had it pretty good at first. Then I started school. Maynard P Elementary school was where everything went downhill. It was where I went downhill.

The first day of school, I was the new kid. If you've ever switched schools or moved, you know how that is. Alone, no friends, awkward small talk and introduction to the class, it was hard for me. I went in as a 2nd grader because I was homeschooled with Nathan, but when he went into highschool, I had to be enrolled into a school as well. With Alice being a baby, my "parents" didn't have the time to teach me. So first day of school went a little something like this:

"Class, we have a new student. She was homeschooled, so please make her feel

welcome." my new teacher, Mrs. Woods introduced me.

The class was dead silent, staring at me. At that exact moment I wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and go home. But the most I could do was put my hands behind my back, lower my head, and shift my weight from one leg to the other. When I went to my seat, in the front of the class, I could feel his eyes staring at me; burning in the back of my skull. Devin Green. Little did I know that this school wouldn't be the last place I saw him. 

.

At lunch that day, I was sitting at a corner table, away from the rest of the kids. They probably all thought I was weird. I don't blame them. While they were all wearing cute little kids clothes, like normal kids do, I had a button up shirt with a skull on the back, black ripped jeans, and a black snapback hat. I never knew why my parents only bought me skull clothes, black jeans, and made me wear my hat, but I kept wearing it until I was about 16. As I was eating my lunch, Devin walked up to me. Now, my little 7 year old brain thought, "Maybe he wants to be my friend." That however, was not the case.

"Hey freak. Why do you look like you're a part of some sort of gang? Are your parents part of a gang? Is that why you're off by yourself? You think it'll protect you?" For a 7 year old, that was harsh, but I was determined to make a friend so I told him a bit about myself.

"My parents died in a car crash when I was born. I was adopted, then homeschooled until my sister was born and my brother had to go to highschool. What about you?"

"Why do you want to know? So you can tell your gang "parents" so they'll kill me and my family? I don't think so. My gosh, you really are a freak." And with that, he walked away laughing at me.

The rest of that year was awful. Devin and his little group of friends would come over to my table everyday, about half way through lunch, laugh at me, make me feel terrible about myself, the way I looked, even the food I ate. I didn't have anything special, a peanut butter and honey sandwich, applesauce cup, and a granola bar, but Devin would call me "poor". His friends never really said anything; they only laughed. Let me tell you a little bit about Devin's family.

The Green family were basically royalty in Adams. Rock Green, Devin's father, was the Mayor and Anna, Devin's mother, was his secretary. Rock had 100% of the votes and was reelected 3 times in a row. This year was his last year, but that didn't affect his popularity. If you said anything bad about him or his family, you were automatically an outcast and no one went anywhere near you. There was almost an unwritten law against it and you were "branded". I learned that the hard way.

Last day of 2nd grade, I had finally had enough of Devin's bullying, and I decided to stand up against him. I knew about when he would come to my table, so I made sure to finish my lunch before then. I finished just in time, too. When I took the last bite of my granola bar, I looked up and saw Devin and his "posse" walking up to me with big smiles on their faces.

"Wow. Looks like the freak finished her food faster today. Too bad she couldn't get away fast enough." He looked to his group for approval and they all were laughing. At that moment, I stood up, walked my little 3' self up to him so I stood maybe 1 inch away from him, looked him dead in the eye the best I could with him being near a foot taller than I was, and said

"I didn't want to get away, you son of a bitch." Now. You may be thinking, "Gee. That's a strong word for a 7 year old", but I didn't know what it meant. I had heard it at home when my parents fought. It's what my mom called my dad when she was angry, so I didn't consider it a bad word. It wasn't long after I said it, that I knew of, that I woke up in the nurse's office and felt like my face was on fire. More specifically, felt like my cheek was on fire.

"Oh good, honey, you're awake. That'll leave a nasty bruise." The nurse said. For the next few years, she would be the only real friend I had at this school. "What happened, babydoll?"

And so, against my better judgment, I told her everything that had happened. From the first day introduction, to the yelling and laughing everyday, to me trying to stand up for myself; I told her everything.

"Oh buttercup, I'm glad you told me that. If you want you can eat lunch in here with me. Ill even lock my door for ya."

Our school nurse, I never did learn her name, was a darker skinned woman, around mid to late 50's. She had a thick southern accent, always wore her long, black, curly hair either in a ponytail or a bun. She had beautiful dark brown, almost black eyes, a slight flush to her cheeks, and always wore red lipstick. She was the kindest person I had ever met. Now. You may be thinking, "Wow. That year sounds really rough with Devin picking on you everyday." Yes. It was. But it wasn't the worst year of my life.