Status: .
Me Against the World and, Oh Yeah, a ***er
Chapter 1
Have you ever had one of those days where you just wanted it to be over? That’s the exact kind of day I’m having right now. I’m in the car, listening to my parents say how "beneficial" moving across the country will be. "Matrix," they say, "This move will be a great opportunity for all of us." (By the way, my real name is Matilda, I just think Matrix sounds better.) I’m not believing one word of their ranting. Seeing my friends again is completely out of the question, since we are moving from Colorado all the way to Virginia.
We just pulled up to our new house and I hate it. Our old one was bigger, and this one is painted the most hideous shade of yellow. My new room is smaller, and the walls are pink, my least favorite color. There are only two bedrooms, which means I have to share with my older sister, Esperanza. All I want to do is go to sleep, so I will.
I just woke up. It’s 9:00 in the morning, early for a Saturday. I decide to get up anyway. Esperanza must already be up, because her bed is empty. I shout a good morning as I pass my parents’ bedroom. I don’t get an answer, so I figure they’re still asleep. Nobody’s in the kitchen, so I have to make my own breakfast. Even though I’m 15 years old, I still don’t know how to make toast. It is burnt to a crisp when I pull it out of the toaster, but I don’t feel like starting over so I eat it anyway. When I’m done, I get dressed and tease my jet-black-with-green-and-blue-streaks hair. It takes FOREVER, and when I’m done, my parents still aren’t awake. It’s almost 10:30, and they’re usually up by now. I decide to go and wake them up.
I open the door to their room, completely unprepared for what I see. My parents are both lying on the bed, covered in multiple stab wounds and lots of blood. There is no knife around them so whoever did it must have taken it with them. I run over to check their pulses and they are both dead. Before I can call 911, I remember Esperanza. I check our room again, the bathroom, the living room, and every other room in the house. There is no sign of her. Then I call 911.
My new house is soon filled with 10 police officers, all crammed into my parents’ room. After about an hour of searching, they tell me there is no visible evidence. Then the people from the mortuary come to take away the bodies and clean up the scene. I try with all my might to look away, but it is impossible. It’s one of those things that’s so gruesome, you just can’t help staring. I mention to the police that I think my 19-year-old sister was kidnaped. They ask for a description, tell me they’ll file a missing persons’ report, and just like that, they’re on their way.
I want to scream. I want to run. I want to go on a full-out rampage. But I don’t; I just break down and cry. I compose myself after a minute and bolt out of the house. It’s early spring, so I don’t bother to grab a jacket. I have no idea where anything is or where I’m trying to go, but it feels good to run. I feel myself getting lost in my mind and losing track of time. I am almost to the point where I’m not even aware of my surroundings anymore, but I snap back into reality when I bump into someone. I mumble an apology and try to speed around them, but they say, "Wait!" so I turn back to them.
We just pulled up to our new house and I hate it. Our old one was bigger, and this one is painted the most hideous shade of yellow. My new room is smaller, and the walls are pink, my least favorite color. There are only two bedrooms, which means I have to share with my older sister, Esperanza. All I want to do is go to sleep, so I will.
I just woke up. It’s 9:00 in the morning, early for a Saturday. I decide to get up anyway. Esperanza must already be up, because her bed is empty. I shout a good morning as I pass my parents’ bedroom. I don’t get an answer, so I figure they’re still asleep. Nobody’s in the kitchen, so I have to make my own breakfast. Even though I’m 15 years old, I still don’t know how to make toast. It is burnt to a crisp when I pull it out of the toaster, but I don’t feel like starting over so I eat it anyway. When I’m done, I get dressed and tease my jet-black-with-green-and-blue-streaks hair. It takes FOREVER, and when I’m done, my parents still aren’t awake. It’s almost 10:30, and they’re usually up by now. I decide to go and wake them up.
I open the door to their room, completely unprepared for what I see. My parents are both lying on the bed, covered in multiple stab wounds and lots of blood. There is no knife around them so whoever did it must have taken it with them. I run over to check their pulses and they are both dead. Before I can call 911, I remember Esperanza. I check our room again, the bathroom, the living room, and every other room in the house. There is no sign of her. Then I call 911.
My new house is soon filled with 10 police officers, all crammed into my parents’ room. After about an hour of searching, they tell me there is no visible evidence. Then the people from the mortuary come to take away the bodies and clean up the scene. I try with all my might to look away, but it is impossible. It’s one of those things that’s so gruesome, you just can’t help staring. I mention to the police that I think my 19-year-old sister was kidnaped. They ask for a description, tell me they’ll file a missing persons’ report, and just like that, they’re on their way.
I want to scream. I want to run. I want to go on a full-out rampage. But I don’t; I just break down and cry. I compose myself after a minute and bolt out of the house. It’s early spring, so I don’t bother to grab a jacket. I have no idea where anything is or where I’m trying to go, but it feels good to run. I feel myself getting lost in my mind and losing track of time. I am almost to the point where I’m not even aware of my surroundings anymore, but I snap back into reality when I bump into someone. I mumble an apology and try to speed around them, but they say, "Wait!" so I turn back to them.