Fatal Attraction

Death. It strikes again. It continues to cause heartache for loved ones, continues to cause tears to flow from certain people's eyes. Death, it's normal for me because I am surrounded by death. I seem to cause it, sometimes. This is one of those times.

She was an idiot, an idiot who stepped into the middle of the street. She didn't see the car coming. The car had enough manners to stop. It wasn't a hit and run, it was a hit and stop. By the time the driver got out, she was already dead. The impact was too much. She hit the wind shield, a spike of glass stabbing her in the chest. She was already broken and bleeding profusely.

Michelle. She was the girl who wanted to be my friend, even though I'm sure she had plenty. She always had a smile on her face, even when I disappointed her in the halls. Michelle saw the best in life, even through her naivety. I'll never know why she was in the middle of the street, after dinner, but I'm sure it had something to do with me calling her out. Was it suicide? No, she couldn't have. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

While my foster parents were at the police station, I was in charge of watching the children. The younger ones didn't understand what was happening, but the middle schooler was aware. He had seen it with his own eyes and had done nothing about it. I think that's cruel, seeing but not doing. If you see somebody about to get hurt or getting hurt, you man up and do something about it. You don't just sit there like a bastard and watch it all. But, I could never call him out like that. Not tonight anyways.

I was exhausted from crying; all I wanted to do was curl up and fall asleep. My eyes felt heavy, my cheeks had dried tears on them. I was too lazy to clean my face once I was done pouring gallons of salt water from my eyes. I guess crying really has a price to pay.

"Mayella?" The middle schooler was staring at me. He was watching me with curiosity. I would have thought it was a little creepy that he was staring at me, but at this moment I didn't really care. All I know is that he said my name and I'm supposed to answer.

"Hm?" I glanced in his direction before turning my attention back to the television. Nothing interesting was on, so I had the news channel rolling. I was waiting for Michelle's death to start playing, because it is the local news. By tomorrow, everybody will know that another member of my family, although I don't see how she's my family, is dead. Another person connected to me is dead. It gives people even more of a reason to steer clear of me.

"Am I a bad person?" He asked. His name is Dylan. He looks like your typical wannabe jock. I'm sure he's on his way to becoming one. He's already on the football and lacrosse teams, two sports that seem to get so much attention despite their stupidity. That is why I have no desire to attend a sports game, especially sponsored by my school.
Why would I want to see sweaty boys throw balls around. That's what porn is for.

I weighed my options. I could say no, but that would be a lie. Saying yes would hurt his feelings, but I don't really care about what he's feeling. So, I took the latter, "Yes."

He stared at me, mouth agape, but then proceeded to swiftly walk out of the room. I shrugged and turned my attention to the TV. I started to ponder what life would be like without Michelle in the house, but I guess it wouldn't really change. I never left my cave, as I like to call my room, and never paid her any attention. For me, life would be normal. But for my foster parents, life will suck. I mean, they lost one of their foster children. That's gotta suck.

I guess some people could be a bitch and say, "Well, it's one less mouth to feed." But, I don't think anybody is that much of an ass. Well, I guess that isn't true. There always is that one person who's just a bitch and that person can't help it because he or she is just so fucked up in the brain. I feel sorry for people like that.

My foster parents didn't turn up until around eleven, and I had passed out on the couch after putting all the little ones to bed. My foster mother shook me awake, gently, and told me that I should go sleep in my room. Groggily obliging, I sluggishly made my way to my bedroom and flopped onto the bed.

Tomorrow would be hell and I didn't want to face it.