Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1500086
by Jayne
Rated: 13+ · Serial · Emotional · #1500086
A girl's life and death in a place called Disturbia.
I sighed, wishing I could just jump into the pages of my book and escape from the screaming coming from the room next to mine.

My Aunt Sarah was yelling at her butler for not remembering to do something or other that she'd probably not actually ordered him to do in the first place.

"You stupid old coot! If my husband hadn't made me promise to take care of you as long as you lived I would have thrown you out onto the streets where you belong!" She screeched, and I heard the door shut quietly behind him as he left to continue his boring existence.

Promise? I don't think she even knew the meaning of it. My uncle had made her promise to treat me like I was her own daughter. To her that consisted of allowing me to eat her food, live in a tiny room, and go to school with her kids. Anything past that, she felt that actually getting it for me would be 'spoiling'.

"Jane! Get in here and clean this carpet stain!" My Aunt screamed.

'How does she have a voice with all that screaming she does?' I thought sullenly, jumping out of my hiding spot and running into the room.

On the floor was a gross looking stain, and next to that was a dead bird.

"Holy Crow! Who did this?!" I gasped, stepping backwards involuntarily from the shock.

Aunt Sarah glared and waved her hand, "John said he accidentally shot this with his bb gun and you know how he is with his little jokes." She smiled fondly when she thought of her precious son.

John was one of the worst teenage boys I had ever met. And unfortunately I lived with him. 24/7 pranks, abuse, and other things I don't feel like mentioning.

"Just clean it up and get out of my sight." Aunt Sarah sighed and threw a rag at my head. I bent over and grabbed it, there was no reason to start a fight that would just get me locked in my room for who knows how long.

It took me almost 2 hours to scrub the blood out of the carpet. Then I tossed the rag into the trashcan and retreated to my room. I was careful when i passed Johns room, I didn't want to make noise that might alert him of my presence.

Last time he'd caught me I ended up with bruised lips and a black eye.

John didn't care if it was wrong.

And I didn't have any choice because he almost ruled the house.

© Copyright 2008 Jayne (xerocide at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1500086