It had been three years since my dad and step mom's death in a car crash in England. My mom had just given up on me and my dad years before or that's how my dad used to tell me, but deep down, I knew she hadn't wanted to leave me. Or maybe I was just telling myself this. The foster parents I had were nice and everything, but they didn't love me. You could tell. They were too stuck up. They always told me that the only reason they had taken me in a few years back was because they were my godparents. I wished they hadn't been. I didn't like them. I had to be grateful they took me in, but I still hated them. I knew I shouldn't, but I couldn't help it. They were really rich so the house I lived in was like a mansion almost. My room was huge! I had my own tv/vcr, N64 system, computer with modem and AOL and so much more. It was a nice house, and I lived pretty well, but I just wanted for someone to love me again. That's all I wished for. Well, to start with me, my name is Emma Carter. I'm 16 and I live in Myrtle Beach, SC. I have brown eyes, brown hair down to my shoulder blades and dark skin. Three years before, I had lost my very best friend to a terrible accident he had caused. I still hadn't forgiven him for it even though it had been three years. "Emma! C'mon downstairs! You're going to be late for school!"a voice called up the marble stair leading to my room and the library and a bunch of other rooms. "Coming!"I yelled back at my foster mom. I threw my math book in my backpack and ran into the kitchen after bumping down three flights of stairs. I grabbed an orange and ran out the door. When I got outside, I slowed my pace down while I peeled my orange. I threw the peeling on the ground and bit into the juicy fruit. The juices gushed out. I just loved oranges. When I had finished, I wiped my mouth off. I looked up and saw him. "Omigo..."I said, not ending my phrase. His brown hair, deep brown eyes, tan skin, tall, muscular build...he was gorgeous. 'Why is he here?'I thought to myself. 'I thought he still lived in San Fransico!' Memories started to flashback in my mind's eye. Memories of us as little kids. We were the closest two children I've ever known to exist. We went everywhere together, never being apart. We were born on the same day, same year, in the same hospital. Then, memories of December 3, 1999. That night, I lost two of the people I most cared about. I couldn't stand there and look at that murderer. I wondered though. I wondered if he got better after that night or if he just got worse as time went on. I turned to walk to school. chapter 2 |
