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Snap! A twig cracked underfoot from an unseen form. She whirled around, sensing that something was coming. Then, a shadow loomed out of the darkness behind her as she walked faster and faster on the uneven ground of the forest and back out into the cemetery. Sssssss! A hissing sound startled her.
Run, now, a voice inside her whispered, and all of a sudden, she was running, running from--- what? She didn’t dare turn around, and the temptation was great, but she steered herself to bolt in between gravestones of the dead until she reached the stone wall that lined the cemetery, out of breath. Gasping for air, she turned around. And saw a dark shadow rustle against the trees as it retreated. Th

Snap! The lead on Scarlett’s pencil snapped from the pressure in which she was holding her pencil under, jerking her out of writing so fast, she didn’t even comprehend what she wrote. As usual.
“Shoot,” she muttered under her breath. Then, she swiped the broken point off her composition notebook and sighed. That had been her last pencil out of three.
Maybe I should bring a sharpener next time, she thought.
Scarlett never used pens to write. They would last longer than pencils of course, but she could never think when holding a pen in hand. Thus, she was entitled to breaking pencils when she wrote, no matter what. For some reason, the pencils only broke when she wrote.
Her supply of pencils depleted in under an hour, Scarlett pulled her sweatshirt around her, brushed off her dark jeans, and rose with her composition book from sitting on a rock next to the same gravestone: Ella Farthmore, her mom. Ella had died from secondhand smoke and just a year ago, due to her husband’s addiction to smoking anything he could get his hands on. Scarlett’s mom was the one thing that kept her grounded in their chaotic household, and now that she was gone, even her brother, Thomas, had been drinking and smoking non-stop with her dad, George. They could care less about where Scarlett was, as long as she was back to clean every now and then.
After looking at her mom’s gravestone for a moment, she made her way through the maze of the dead until she reached the side of the road, crossed the street, and walked down the road about half a mile until she reached her home.
Scarlett opened the door using the key in her bag, and then entered the house that stank of beer and cigarettes. She held her breath as she made her way through the small kitchen, where the sink was partly full of dirty, unwashed dishes, and where empty beer cans were strewn across the counters and floor. Then, she passed the living room, where two forms were splayed on the couch with the television on. Tom and George.
Entering her room, Scarlett neatly placed her bag next to her bed, which was clean and covered with white and dark red sheets. A shelf of books was on the wall, a small desk stood to the left of her bed, and a window with cotton curtains allowed the bright afternoon light into her room. Collapsing on her bed, Scarlett was just closing her eyes when a voice sounded in front of her.
“Where in God’s name have you been?” George Farthmore stood in front of her, glaring at her while wearing a ratty gray T-shirt and jeans. His eyes remained unfocused on her, and his breath stank of smoke and alcohol.
“Do you really care?” Scarlett retorted with the empty threat. As she stood and moved to walk to the kitchen, her father stood in her way.
In a flash, he grabbed her upper arm in a vice-like grip and leaned in so they were face to face.
“Listen, Scar,” he frowned. “Now that your mother’s gone, we need a woman in the house to clean and take care of us. I have that job in the car wash and your brother is working at Burger King. We make the money for this family, and it’s your job to take care of the people who put food in your mouth. Now go clean up. Got it?”
As much as her father’s grip pained her, Scarlett was just as stubborn, and refused to give in to him.
“You hear me?” George demanded, raising his voice as if Scarlett were deaf.
Say yes, a voice inside her ordered. Just say yes.
“Yes,” she replied, releasing her grip from her father and walking to the kitchen.
Angrily, she took a black garbage bag and began stuffing cans and empty boxes of pizza inside, attempting to breathe in as little of the air as possible. When she finished, she then washed the dishes, taking care to use extra soap. As she was sweeping the floor, she heard a noise behind her and turned around to find her brother standing there, arms crossed against his chest. Surprisingly, he seemed quite sober; his brown eyes were focused on her, his dark hair neat and his clothes clean.
“Hey.” His face twisted into a small grin.
“Hi,” Scarlett replied monotonously.
“Look, I just wanted to tell you sorry about dad just now. He had a bad day at work and had a couple of drinks and then some beer at home,” Tom explained.
“Does that mean you’re going to help me clean up?” she asked, smirking at her older brother.
“Yeah, yeah, I guess so,” he sighed, and began drying the dishes and putting them away.
“Thanks Tom,” she smiled. He responded by waving the towel at her behind his back.
Relief flooding her, Scarlett finished her cleaning much faster, and by late afternoon, she collapsed on her bed and rolled over on her stomach to pull her homework towards her.

**************** ~ **************** ~ *************** ~ ************

One hour later, a buzzing noise startled Scarlett. As she pulled her dark violet phone out of her pocket, she glanced at the name.
Alexandria.
Alexandria Paltridge was Scarlett’s best friend. Smart but feisty, Alex’s good grades kept her record clean of the occasional fights she had. Otherwise, she was always there for Scar, although at times her confidence and tentativeness varied. Alex was usually dressed in dark skinny jeans, a music shirt, and shiny earrings. Her eyes were lined with black eyeliner, and her dark, partially red-highlighted hair was always in a different style.
“Hello?”
“Don’t you know who it is Scar?” the familiar voice of her best friend rang through the phone, as if she were sitting next to Scarlett.
“Yeah,” she replied. “Just felt like asking.”
“You’re crazy,” she told Scarlett, but there was no hatred in her voice. “How’re things in the dungeon?”
“Same, as usual,” Scarlett sighed, lowering her voice, just in case. “Dad’s drunk, but Tom pitied me and helped me clean up.”
“Huh, how nice of him,” Alex commented, no feeling in her tone. She strongly disapproved of Tom, although she admitted to thinking that he was good-looking. Otherwise, she despised the fact that he barely helped Scarlett and spent his time getting a hangover after work.
Wanting to change the subject, Scarlett chose a random topic.
“Finished your homework yet?” she asked casually.
“Uh, yah!” Alex replied, as if that were an obvious question. “You?”
“Um, just finished,” Scarlett admitted sheepishly.
She heard a sigh over the phone. “That’s good. Ugh. My little sister is sick and I have to stay home tonight while my parents get to go out to Olive Garden. Kill me now since I can’t enjoy the tastiness of savory Italian food.”
Scarlett sighed in sympathy but couldn’t help but laugh at Alex’s last statement. “Sorry, no can do Alex. Then what would I do without you in school?”
“Ah, true, true, I am your one and only best friend ever to walk the planet!” Alex replied, giggling. A retching noise could be heard in the pause of her voice. “Oh, look, I gotta go! Sienna’s throwing up again. See you tomorrow morning on the bus.”
“Bye,” Scarlett stated, and then closed her phone. She laid down for a moment in silence, staring up at the ceiling and lost in her thoughts. Her moment didn’t last long though, for a pounding noise echoed on her closed door.
“Yeah?” she asked, sitting up on her bed.
“Go order pizza,” a voice grunted. “Pepperoni, extra cheese.” Then footsteps faded away.
With a small groan, Scarlett shook her hair out of it’s side ponytail, pushed her head into her pillow, and pulled out her phone.