I'm Nicole and I don't know who or what I am exactly. Well whoever or whatever I am I know I'm not that important to this world. Let's just say my life sucks!
The booming music coming from the ear buds in my ear drowned out what sounded like car crashes and dogs barking. A disagreement, which was developed over breakfast, turned into a full blown fist-to-face fight. As I heard my mom fight for what seemed like forever I decided it was time to stop it all until I heard a gunshot. As I made my way through the long hallway that suddenly ended, everything was silent. As I looked around the room all that I could see at the moment was blood draining down the side of the stove and my mom lying on the floor motionless. Watching the guy "who is not my father" wipe the grin that had appeared after the gunshot off his face and slowly but quickly clean up the mess and the body and put it all in a bag, I cried. I was fifteen, the only child and I had just seen my mom get shot and put into a garbage bag like trash. Soon the guy "who is not my father" came out with a bag of clothes and the car keys and told me to get in the car. I said nothing, besides who would believe a fifteen year old girl who has been to rehab and juvenile majority of her life.
As I climbed into the blue candy coated Mercedes with tears streaming down my face and mascara draining from my eyes I watched the guy "who is not my father" toss my mom's body in the trunk. As it made a huge THONG sound, from her head hitting the used tire in the trunk, another tear was produced from my eyes. I just didn't know this was just the start of my problems.
As we drove for what seemed like forever, we soon arrived at this broke down house that look like it had been in multiple natural disasters. It struggled to stand in what seemed like woods, it was barely a road around, just a lot of dirt and rocks. As I got out of the car, the guy 'who is not my father" ordered me to grab a shovel and follow him as he held my mom's dead body on his shoulder. After walking for about 4 miles, we soon arrived at an empty lot and the guy "who is not my father", with a stern look and determined voice, ordered me to start digging. As I started to dig, once again, I started to cry. The thought of knowing that I was digging my own mom's grave gave me the chills of a lifetime. As I continued to dig, I started to flashback to the awesome times I had spent getting to know my true best friend. The flashback brought the scene to an old jukebox in a café as a little girl in her bright colored sun dress runs up and inserts a coin into the machine and changes the song to "My Girl" by The Temptations. She then pulls her mom in the center of the café and starts laughing as she starts twisting her hips and making her mom mimic the same steps. The flashback soon ended and I continued to dig slower and slower until the guy "who is not my father" ordered me to go faster. Soon I started to flashback to the worst times I had with my mom, there weren't many but, we had our ups and downs. The first flashback I could think about is the first time I ran away, it brought the scene to a gloomy day in the middle of October, mom and the guy "who is not my father" was arguing about an earring found in the backseat of our candy coated blue Mercedes. As the day went on the screams got louder and the hits got harder as my mom fought for her life I listened to music and tried to think of something to get my mind off of the fact the earring was mine and hoping my mom would just maybe forget about it but soon the screams and hits stopped and everything was quiet. Soon the door to my room burst open, it was the guy "who is not my father", he was pissed. He picked me up by my throat and slung me to the next wall.
"You are trying to frame me aren't you?"
Hurt and in pain I said softly "No I was going to say something but.."
"You BITCH....."
Soon my mom came in with a black eye and responded stern and upset,
"Beat her and make sure she don't do it again"
