Photogenic

I .

The suburbs were a relatively boring, yet perfect place to live. Friendly neighbours with helping hands, everyone's day planned out until there wasn't a single fault to pick. It was hard to cause a commotion on such a perfect, boring street. That was until the unfortunate loss of what they assumed to be my perfect family. They had no idea of the torments we dealt with, the torture we went through on a daily basis. Stuck in the hands of some cruel game. We were it's pawns, not the knights or kings. There was no escape.

3 months ago. . .

I heard a pounding at the wooden door making me heave myself up from the sofa, I huffed a sigh making my way to the front door seeing a blurred figure through the frosted glass. I pulled it open to be greeted by a delivery man, a brown wrapped parcel occupying his hands.

“For you.” He mumbled handing it over to me, saying nothing more as he made his way back to his grey van.

I stood in the doorway watching him drive away out of the neighbourhood before closing it, I turned around on my heels to be greeted by my mum making me jump slightly. I handed her the package while I made my way back into the living room, dropping myself onto the grey sofa. I listened to my mum call my father to come down the stairs, probably to hand him the parcel as it's addressed to him.

I heard his feet thump noisily down the wooden steps, presuming he had been drinking in his office. I rolled my eyes to myself when I heard him shuffle his feet to the kitchen, the sound of paper ripping as he opened the package. I got back up from off the sofa making my way into the classically designed kitchen, seeing my mum and dad huddled around the island counter, joining them both.

I looked up at my dad in his work suit. His dark hair slicked back neatly, his cheeks and nose red from the alcohol as his dark brown eyes briefly read the letter grasped between his thumb and index finger. My eyes diverted at an unopened box, my dads hand placed over the top of it to stop either of us looking inside it.

“It's just a camera.” He grunted opening the box, taking a black digital-SLR out placing it in the middle of the three of us.

“Who is it from?” My mother asked in her usual cheery sing-song voice, I didn't look up at her my eyes fixated on the camera before me.

“Some relative on my side, supposedly.” He shrugged, “you like photography, you can have it. Won't be much use to me.” He stated pushing it over towards me, folding the letter back into its original folds before leaving the kitchen.

I just raised my eyebrows at it, not daring to touch it. I've used cameras before, but only the original SLR cameras which involve films not memory cards. I felt nervous thinking about operating it for the first, seeing the pictures appear on a screen instantly, not having to wait for the chemicals to set them in place. I felt excitement run through out me, I know if I begged hard enough they would of bought me one, but I preferred capturing pictures the old fashioned way and having to process every individual photograph separately.

I ran my finger over the eye piece viewfinder gently, feeling the smooth rubber against my fingertip. I looked up seeing my mum put away the dishes neatly in the cupboard above the counter tops, I took the camera in my hands investigating it. I opened up a latch assuming that's where the batteries are placed, seeing a blue thin plastic strip in a slot. I pressed down on it lightly hearing it clicked as it popped up, I took it out examining the memory card pushing it back into the slot with the same click securing it back into place, before I closed the cover.

“Why don't you go try it out sweet heart?” My mother said sweetly, after putting the dishes away. Her mousey brown hair in it's usual perfect curls along her slender shoulders, her pearly white teeth glowing as she tried to be the perfect house wife you'd expect to see in a television commercial.

“Needs batteries.” I stated putting it back down on the counter carefully, not wanting to damage it.

I watched my mum take off her cooking apron revealing a peach cashmere sweater underneath, she began pulling out the drawers removing its contents to place a packet of unused batteries on the counter sliding them across the polished surface towards me. I reached over taking them, peeling the thin cardboard off the back to push them through one by one. I popped open the latch again, placing the batteries in making sure they went in the right way before closing it shut.

I searched the top of the camera for the on button, sliding it to the right hearing the lens automatically adjust catching me off guard. I placed my eye lightly against the viewfinder, focusing it manually on my mum. I had her turn around and smile for me when I pressed the shutter button, I quickly looked at the LCD screen seeing the photograph I just took appear crystal clear. My mother looking glamorous as ever in the photo, not a flaw to be pointed out. I smiled slightly to myself in contentment with how the picture turned out.

I took the camera in my hands walking out the kitchen as I made my way to the stairs to get a picture of my dad. I held onto the banister checking the camera was still on while I walked up the steps, I walked slowly along the landing towards my dads office taking in a deep breath as I lightly knocked, peering my head through the door.

“Can I get a photo of you, please?” I asked, watching him nod as he turned away from the computer looking towards me.

I placed my eye against the viewfinder just like I did when I took a picture of my mum, I saw him raise a smile before I clicked the shutter button. I looked at the screen seeing his face, the redness in his cheeks not showing on the image. I let a small smile form on my face for the one decent colour picture I can take of him that doesn't show the alcohol consumption on his skin. I mentally thanked the person who sent the camera to our house.

I made my way back down the stairs and into the kitchen, my mum arranging the flowers in the vase for the fifth time today making me roll my eyes. Everything always had to be perfect, nothing could be out of place. If people wouldn't think of it as insanity, she'd probably measure every blade of grass to the nearest million-metre.

I left the kitchen not quite sure of why I went in there the first, the camera still clutched in my hands as I made my way outside the front. I walked along the sandy coloured slabs to the pavement, standing just out front of the house snapping a picture of it. I looked at the picture seeing no detail of weathering on the small, pretty house, nodding my head slightly at the coat of paint my mother applied a few weeks ago. I turned around capturing a picture of the row of houses with their freshly mowed lawns, looking perfect as ever in the summer time.