Fifteen year old Katie comes to the conclusion that her social life as the lone wolf needs to change. As a desperate attempt to find companions, she finds herself in with a crowd not so like your average cliques. A small cult attracts her attention and she soon finds her life falling darker by the second.
I was always good and being on my own. When I was five my mom hired a nanny to take care of me. Father went missing in 2004, a few months passed and mother had to take on first and second shifts. My nanny was named Sophia, a hispanic women whom had traveled from Mexico in search of a low paying job. She had a child of her own back home, she rarely spoke of it. Most of the time she'd leave me to with my toys in the laundry room because our house was to small for a room completely dedicated to play things. Sometimes she's read me a story before bed, but often she wouldn't. I had homeschooling in the mornings, for three hours. Then I'd be off to solitude. Dinner was always at six o'clock, set on the table for me to grab and eat alone.
My mom had a boyfriend when I was about seven. His named was Don. Don was a nice guy, always working. By the time I was eight he felt like a father figure but really didn't do much to be called papa. My mom only worked one shift now, Don would buy a groceries and bring home gifts every so often. One day he even decided to let us move in with him. A nice four bedroom house, with two bathrooms, pure white walls, and even a playroom. Mother was so happy, I still didn't know what to think. By that point Sophia was fired with all the spare time for Mother to actually watch me.
By the time I was nine years old my mom enrolled me in public school. We still lived with Don. He would drive me to school in his red camaro every morning at seven forty. My first few weeks at school were like a paralell universe. Everyone said hi to me, but didn't ask my name or who I really was. Blue walls with ocean animals plastered in every direction. Toy boxes and book shelves in all four corners. Twenty newly polished desks awaiting fourteen third graders to attentively sit in. I always smelt the glue that was set next to my desk. The teacher was Mrs. Ling. She was chinese, beautiful too. I never liked her.
I always felt like I was being stared at. I never raised my hand to answer questions. The idea was to get in and get out.Third day in of school, I became friends with a girl. She had little hair, and a big smile. It bothered me how happy she was, all the time. She always asked to partner with me on papers, and projects. I would always nod my head at her, rarely did I talk. Her name was Heather.
For months I would finish my homework quickly by myself. I'd occasionally share a lunch table with Heather. Sometimes I'd be completely alone when she would stop showing up to school for weeks. I never asked why she missed so much school or always wore hats over her head.
A year later I was still the same quiet student. Another cloudy day I walked in the house from a long day at school to find mother discontent looking. I asked what was troubling her. She told me she had some things she needed to tell me about. I walked into my room and gracefully sat on my bed, patted for mother to join. She closed her blue eyes, and pulled a strand of her wavy light brown hair behind her ear. I could smell a whiff of her french perfume as she moved to grab my hand.
"Baby, your mother would never want to have to tell you something that would break your heart. I had a phone call a few hours ago while you were still in school. Some people are born sick, and are very very lucky to live everyday. But eventually, we all pass away, their time just comes early. And its a blessing that we can be help the live of such won-"
"Mother, Are you trying to tell me that someone died? I don't get it"
"Hunny, I don't know how to help you understand, but one of your class mates has recently passed away due to a bad disease. It was Heather..."
I felt a tear come into my eye, but i forced it to stay. I got up, and told my mother I would make dinner. She looked at me in confusion, and an urge to pull me back down. But I left the room, I would not take this to heart.
My mom became pregnant by the time I was twelve. Don was always taking trips for his job so mother was always asking a lot of me. When my mother was six months pregnant her and I took a trip to the supermarket down the street. When we got inside she asked me to go grab the milk and meet up with her in the cereal isle. I took my time, I could never decide between two percent or fat free white milk. Suddenly, I hear a scream coming from the right wing of the store. Panic'd I ran to find my mom. I found her on the floor bleeding through her old kahki shorts. Other people had already rushed to her and called the paramedics. She slipped and fell, she also lost the baby.
When my mother lost the baby, she became severely depressed. Don came home a week after the miscariage. No one wanted to tell him, so I did it. He walked in to find mother crying and rocking in the old kick back chair placed in the living room. He immediantly guessed what happened, and I confirmed his doubts.
Mother quit her job, and began sleeping frequently. Don was now working longer hours meaning I was a thirteen year old sitting in the house to myself. Eventually I started leaving the house after mother would pop a sleeping pill and head to bed. I never worried about my looks, when I challenged the mirror it told me I was just another girl wondering. I wore no makeup, always tied my hair back, slipped on some black sweat pants and a jacket. No one really loved my wardrobe, but nobody was quite anybody to me.
The city was always bright at night, but i felt myself always drifting into the alleyways. Scuffling through the trash and stepping in the small puddles. Sometimes, I'd hear people screaming. I wasn't scared of death, nothing scared me. I would peek over corners and endorse drug deals, beat ups, everything. Sometimes I would take a small journal and observe, as long as I wasn't caught.