SHH! There's a Killer in the House

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us to Africa?" My step-mother, Gloria, asked again for the hundredth time.

With a fake smile plastered on my face, I turned towards her, "Yes, Gloria, I'm sure! Now, if you two were going to Europe, anywhere in Europe, I would go but you're going to Africa. The land of HIV and desert, no thanks!"

She waved one of her manicured hands in my direction. "And what would you do here, Heather? Your chores?" She laughed at her own joke that made no sense.

Right then, my tall, dark, handsome father walked in wearing an Italian suit with black Italian leather shoes. "Wow Dad!" I said. Gloria moan in pleasure. "Nasty!" I directed towards her. "Where do you think you are going?"

He smiled his million dollar child actor smile. "To talk to my new boss before we leave tomorrow. He wants to go over some small details with Gloria and I. Then we are going out to dinner at Andre's."

"Gag me with a spoon! Your new boss is mega creepy!" I made choking sounds to prove my point.

"When did you start sounding like a valley girl, Heather?" Gloria asked, adding more lipstick to her fake, fat lips. She's had everything fixed on her, from her extra five pounds to her new boobs to her once-had-crow's-feet-around-the-eyes. Now she looked like a Barbie doll and is made of plastic like one too.

I started to play with the button on the couch I was sitting on. "He's so nasty, at the last party, he was trying to touch me whenever he can. He is so creepy!"

"Well, we better get going, Gloria, if we want to make it there on time," my father said, helping Gloria up from the love seat she was sitting in. Her baby blue dress floated around her in her golden tan. I have to say, she does look amazing, like an ex-model she is.

"Bye, have fun!" I called out the door as they left.
*****
A pepperoni pizza with extra cheese was staring me in the face but no, I couldn't eat it because the phone keeps ringing off the hook and when I try to answer it, they hang up! What the hell!? Finally, I gave up! As the ringing started again, I ignored it, attacking the pizza. The answering machine picked it up. "Hi, Heather, it's dad. The phone keeps going out. We'll have to get that fixed. Anyway, we'll be getting home late, don't wait up. Love you, sweetheart, bye."

"Not like I was going to wait up," I mumbled into the cheese. Today was a weird day, I was getting along with my parents. Usually Gloria and I would be down each other throats and my father would be trying to break it up. She gets mad at the things I wear. If I wanted to look like every other girl in my school, then I'll wear labels but since I like my punk rock/scene kid/gothic/emo then I wear what I want because that's how I roll. The only thing she doesn't complain about is my hair because I make it look great no matter how I wear it. She wishes she could do it but she's dyed it blond some much it's dead.

Finally the cheesy/pepperoni goodness of the pizza was gone and I'm tired. Walking up the stairs to my room, I striped off my clothes and pulled on some PJ shorts and a black tank top.

TV sucked. Only things on were info commercials and re-runs of shows that never should have been made. The pink and blue clock my dress blinked, saying it was 2:21. Where are my parents? They should have been home by now. Whatever. "Good night, house!" I called before popping in a movie and falling asleep.
*****
He sat in the car with Mr. and Mrs. Gordan. Both were shaking at the gun that was between them, neither knew why the guy in the back seat was kidnapping them. Mr. Gordan was driving the car up a twisty, mountain road. When they left the party at 12, they were heading home when they saw this man on the side of the road with a broken down car. "Can I get a ride to the gas station? My car ran out." He said, cornily smiling at his mistake. "Sure," Mr. Gordan said without a second thought. Once the guy was in the car and they started moving, he pulled out a gun.

"Stop here." He ordered. "Get out and put your hands on the hood of the car." Once the couple did what he asked, he got out too. "Do you know why I brought you out here, Steve?" He asked.

Mr. Gordan quivered. "No, I don't." He looked up at the gunman. Mrs. Gordan cried silently, tears poured down like rain onto the car.

"What do you mean you don't know, Steve?!" He hissed. "This is the same place you brought me five years ago. I was barely fifteen!" The gunman grabbed Mrs. Gordan. "You held a gun up to my head, just like this," he said, holding the gun to her head, cocking the trigger.

"GOD, please stop!" Mr. Gordan lifted his hands off the hood. The gunman pulled the gun away and shot at the front of the car before putting the gun back at her temple.

"Do that again, I shoot her. I swear," he warned. "Now, how can you not remember Steve? YOU KILLED MY BROTHER UP HERE!"

"Oh, god, you're-" His hands came off the car hood. Mrs. Gordan fell to the mountain floor with a new hole in her head. The gunman pointed the gun at Mrs. Gordan.

"Good-bye, Steve."