Status: Hope you love my story
Sisters for Death
Commited
Grace POV
I shouldn't be here, in my tiny padded cell. I should be out there in the real world, enjoying a cup of coffee with a cute guy or listening to some great new song. I should be dancing at my brothers wedding. But I'm not. I don't know what I did to get here. I wasnt crazy, I was just eccentric. After all, I grew up in a house filled with carnies and we only listened to the finest of oldies rock in our house. I was only a little different from all the other kids in school with my wild ideas that I was a witch. After all every other kid pretended they were super heroes, so why couldn't I try to bring my sister back from the dead? Oh have I not gotten to my sister? Well I must say that most people I talk to already know. I only stay within my comfort area of people. I just find others so annoying and hurtful. I'm sorry if that offends you, I like you though. Anyone willing to read my story is an okay person. Oh, my sister? Right well my sister was killed in a car accident. It was a bright January day, one of those days in winter that tricks you into believing its spring. During lunch my sister and some friends decided to go out to the market for some burritos and then a boy from school pulled up talking about how fast his car was. Naturally the driver of the car my sister was riding in had to take that as a challenge. In the ensuing race the car spun out of control and hit a power pole directly in my sisters seat. Her head snapped, severing her brain stem and then boom, she was gone forever. My best friend out of my life. No more tickle fights, no more forts, and no more Aerosmith until I fell asleep. I guess that's where it may have started. The abandonment issues that led me to break down in tearful fits whenever a boyfriend wouldn't call me, or to never trust a soul lest they leave or be killed. And yet I still let so many in. So many who said they'd never leave but did anyways. Coby was the last of them. The one to put me here. It's all his fault for playing me like he did. I never intended for it to end this way. He loved me and I loved him. We were engaged when it happened, when I found out that he'd been cheating all along. She was some whore named Brooke with long legs and a loose flappy vagina, just some girl who had nothing on me except a skank attitude. Where my hair was a beautiful red, hers was a dull lifeless brown. Where my breasts were large and perky hers were tiny and almost non existent. She looked like a European boy and I looked like Marilyn Monroe to be perfectly frank. What did he see in her? Why wasn't I special enough? I'd used every ounce of my being, every little magical part of me on being with him. Now that I look back, I see that I received nothing in return. So when I found them in bed together the years of stress on my mentality just took a tole. I blacked out and when I came to, the bitch was bleeding. She didn't die, unfortunately enough she's even still whoring. But now she has a large ugly scar on her belly, to remind her of me. Coby remains largely unharmed and even has the gall to write to me in here telling me he still loves me. When the police arrived, I was found in the bathroom muttering about how there wasn't enough magic left. They obviously didn't understand. The magic was my personality. The little spark inside me that made me so like able to so many people. The thing that made me able to love so much. But they thought I was crazy instead of just homicidal and therefore sent me here. Now tell me, do you think I'm crazy?
I shouldn't be here, in my tiny padded cell. I should be out there in the real world, enjoying a cup of coffee with a cute guy or listening to some great new song. I should be dancing at my brothers wedding. But I'm not. I don't know what I did to get here. I wasnt crazy, I was just eccentric. After all, I grew up in a house filled with carnies and we only listened to the finest of oldies rock in our house. I was only a little different from all the other kids in school with my wild ideas that I was a witch. After all every other kid pretended they were super heroes, so why couldn't I try to bring my sister back from the dead? Oh have I not gotten to my sister? Well I must say that most people I talk to already know. I only stay within my comfort area of people. I just find others so annoying and hurtful. I'm sorry if that offends you, I like you though. Anyone willing to read my story is an okay person. Oh, my sister? Right well my sister was killed in a car accident. It was a bright January day, one of those days in winter that tricks you into believing its spring. During lunch my sister and some friends decided to go out to the market for some burritos and then a boy from school pulled up talking about how fast his car was. Naturally the driver of the car my sister was riding in had to take that as a challenge. In the ensuing race the car spun out of control and hit a power pole directly in my sisters seat. Her head snapped, severing her brain stem and then boom, she was gone forever. My best friend out of my life. No more tickle fights, no more forts, and no more Aerosmith until I fell asleep. I guess that's where it may have started. The abandonment issues that led me to break down in tearful fits whenever a boyfriend wouldn't call me, or to never trust a soul lest they leave or be killed. And yet I still let so many in. So many who said they'd never leave but did anyways. Coby was the last of them. The one to put me here. It's all his fault for playing me like he did. I never intended for it to end this way. He loved me and I loved him. We were engaged when it happened, when I found out that he'd been cheating all along. She was some whore named Brooke with long legs and a loose flappy vagina, just some girl who had nothing on me except a skank attitude. Where my hair was a beautiful red, hers was a dull lifeless brown. Where my breasts were large and perky hers were tiny and almost non existent. She looked like a European boy and I looked like Marilyn Monroe to be perfectly frank. What did he see in her? Why wasn't I special enough? I'd used every ounce of my being, every little magical part of me on being with him. Now that I look back, I see that I received nothing in return. So when I found them in bed together the years of stress on my mentality just took a tole. I blacked out and when I came to, the bitch was bleeding. She didn't die, unfortunately enough she's even still whoring. But now she has a large ugly scar on her belly, to remind her of me. Coby remains largely unharmed and even has the gall to write to me in here telling me he still loves me. When the police arrived, I was found in the bathroom muttering about how there wasn't enough magic left. They obviously didn't understand. The magic was my personality. The little spark inside me that made me so like able to so many people. The thing that made me able to love so much. But they thought I was crazy instead of just homicidal and therefore sent me here. Now tell me, do you think I'm crazy?