Dead - Like a Candle You Burned Out

I was thinking too much about the past and I didn't like it. It frightened me way to much to even want to remember it. I tried to concentrate on something different as I walked into my house.

I felt the warm air hit me as soon as I opened the door and I smelt something really good. My mom is a great cook and ever since I told her about everything that had happened, she's been trying to make me feel better. I hated that she tried so hard, because nothing could erase the past. It was stuck to me like gum stuck on a shoe and as much as I would love for it to just disappear and take all the pain with it, it won't.

"Hunny, is that you?" I heard her velvet voice speak from the kitchen. The house was quiet except for a few pots and pans clinking around as my mother cooked away.

"Yeah," I yelled back to her. It always felt like my mother had adopted me. Not because of the way she spoke to me, but because of her admirable beauty. My mother was a goddess and everybody else thought so too.

I walked into the kitchen to see her back facing me as she stirred the food in the pot, her long luscious curly hair, tucked away with an elastic. My mom liked to think of herself as a real cook. If she would just quit her job as a hair dresser and enter a cooking contest, she would be a famous chef right now.

"Where have you been?" She asked turning around with a worried expression on her face. I didn't feel like talking about it, so I just shrugged my shoulders and made up a lie.

"I was out with some friends I had just met," I said walking over to the counter beside her. When she continued to stare, I made up another lie. "Don't worry, they just showed me where the library was,"

"Okay, but next time use your cell phone to call me and let me know," She said turning back to her food again. I nodded even though she couldn't see me.

"Need any help?" I asked, washing my hands and preparing myself. I usually always had to chop something up or put something in the oven. My mom cooked for 10 and we usually finished everything. We worked out though, but even when we didn't used to, we never gained a pound.

"Uh, yeah. Go chop those vegetables over there that I set up on the cutting board," She said, pouring something else into the pot. I started cutting the vegetables into nice and neat little pieces. It was pretty easy for me now, it wasn't a challenge for me anymore.

"What are we having, anyways?" I asked taking a carrot and cutting it into little pieces.

"Something new I'm trying out, it doesn't have a name. Lets just call it a surprise," She took some spices from the side and added them to the pot in front of her. I noticed something in the oven, which was probably what smelt so good. I didn't bother to ask her what it was, because then she would have given me a speech about how to define different types of food. My mom was a weirdo when it came to food and cooking, but she was amazing at it.

After we had finished my mother's incredible meal, I went up to my room and sat on the bed thinking about everything that had happened. Maybe I over reacted a little bit. He's a high school boy, he likes to kiss, but he scared me.

I suddenly felt a shiver down my spine and was automatically frightened. We had moved away from my other house for a reason, because there were things I couldn't be around and places I couldn't ever go to again. It was just too hard for me there and now here I want to start fresh. Clean slate, I mean not every city I live in is going to have trouble waiting for me, or things to scare me. Just that one city and it won't ever happen again.

I hated thinking about my old place, and my old friends. The things that those people did for attention. I could hardly even call them friends; not after what they did, or planned or whatever they were trying to get across to me. As if I didn't have enough going on in my life, but they did feel pretty guilty about what they had done when they had heard what had happened to me while they were planning their big scheme.

I decided that thinking about everything wasn't going to help my situation. I just needed to realize that these people were different and this city was different. There were hardly any dark alleys from what I've seen and because of that, I think that I'll be fine here.

I was lying down now and I could feel my eyelids become heavy as my thoughts started to drift to things that didn't make sense. I wasn't paying attention to them now, I wasn't fully awake.

I suddenly remembered all the homework I had to do and jumped up as if I would die if I didn't get it done. I figured that since I was new to the school, first impressions were good with teachers. Later on they always let your lame excuse for why your homework wasn't done slide.

I ran downstairs and grabbed my bag from the front door and then ran back up and started on my math work first. I didn't feel like thinking about numbers right now, but I was glad for the distraction from my previous thoughts. I felt really tired, but I continued to do the work anyways. The things I did for my education; I hate homework.