Alone In the World

Chapter 13: The Final Chapter

Three years later...

"Luke!" my foster mother screeched. "Get down stairs!" I moaned as I rolled out of bed and hurried to my routine. After brushing my teeth in a solemn bathroom, I took off my pajamas and pulled on my black long sleeved t-shirt, dark pants, and black sneakers. From the corner of my eye, I could see my visible tattoo on my shoulder.

When I was sixteen, I decided to honor Aaron by sneaking out of my house and get a tattoo. With the money I saved from doing household chores, I pulled up the bedroom window, and leaped down on the driveway carefully so my neglective parents wouldn't notice. I then took a bus to the city until I found a small tattoo parlor, sitting right next to a Chinese restaurant.

As soon as the bus parked on the curb, I walked out of the huge silver vehicle and headed to the parlor. Ironically, it didn't look like a tattoo parlor, it looked like a small orange building with two glass doors and big dark letters that spelt Tattoo Parlor. As soon as I opened the doors, a huge man with tattoos all over his arm and cheek. He wore a black tank top, jeans, and no shoes.

"Excuse me," I said quietly, walking around him. The man grunted then trudged away. The room almost looked completely empty: the white chair was perched in the center while the walls were covered in beautiful tattoo stencils, from skulls, Chinese symbols, and to animals. Just then, a tall man with dark clothes and ear piercings walked out of a small door and close it behind him.

The man noticed me and tilted his head. "Hey kid," he greeted. "I would like to have a tattoo," I said. "Aren't you a little bit too young to have them?" he asked. I reached in my pocket and pulled out a huge wad of cash. "I'll give you extra if you don't tell anyone," I promised. The man walked over to me, took the cash, and pointed to the wall.

"Go ahead and chose," he shrugged. "I'll be waiting over there."   He pointed his finger at the chair and smiled. Nodding, I walked over to the walls and picked out a creepy looking skull, the words Rest In Peace and Aaron then walked back to the chair. As soon as I sat down I looked at the white ceiling as the man got out his instruments and set my choices next to him. As soon as he turned the machine on, the needle let out a loud hiss.

He saw me staring at the needle then asked if I had any regrets. I pointed to the area on my shoulder then looked back at the ceiling. "Are you sure-" "Just do it," I interrupted. The guy mumbled something and pointed the needle at my shoulder. After putting on my hoodied, I raced across the dirty wooden steps.

As usual, my foster mother was wearing her filthy pink bathrobe under her nightgown. Her eyes were stern as she looked at me. The white walls were full of holes, the wood traced on the floor until it lead to the kitchen.

The opaque tiles made up the kitchen floors. Besides the kitchen was a huge television set, a brown couch sitting right in front of it, and empty bottles of beer. My foster father, Bill must have been here. "Where is my Tylenol?" my foster mother asked. I let out a sigh; ever since I came here, this woman kept asking me where her things were.

While she yells at me, Bill just lies on the couch, drinking coke or beer. "Did you check the cabinets?" I asked. "No," she answered. "Is it the bathroom?" I asked. "In your bedroom?" My foster mother rubbed her head anxiously then shook her head.

"Why are you asking me all these questions? Aren't you supposed to be the detective or something?" I rolled my eyes at her. "Aren't you thirty-two, Jill?" I snorted. Mom glared at me, reached into her pocket, and pulled out her wallet.

"Here," she sneered, tossing the object at me. I caught it with one hand and stared at her blankly. "After school, get me the medicine." Sighing, I plopped the wallet into my pocket then raced upstairs to get my backpack.

My room was tidy as usual. Blue sheets covered my bed, my desk table was stacked with papers, and the window was right besides my drawers. I grabbed my backpack that was leaning on the chair leg then stumbled downstairs.

With the wallet inside my pocket, I snatched a granola bar from the basket sitting on the counter, ate two quick bites, and tossed the wrapper into the garbage can.

I didn't have time to brush my hair, but I didn't want to go back up to my miserable bedroom. Sounds of running water came from upstairs. My guess is that Mom is taking another shower. 

Probably, because she smells like a dead Moose. Sighing, I hurried out of the house and closed the door behind me. It has been three years since I have attended to Newton High. As always, I arrived extremely early, get good grades, and focus on my goals to get into Harvard, like my parents did.

The next thing I heard was my mother, pulling up her window and glaring at me. Great, what did I do now? I thought angrily. "Hey!" the woman screamed. "Have you gotten that medicine yet?" I let out an angry sigh then glared at her.

"Mom," I yelled. "I just walked out the door!" Her brown sunken eyes were glowering at me when she spoke. "After school," Mom repeated. "Get the medicine!" "I am not deaf, Mom!" I shouted. "Geez!" I threw my dark hood over my head then walked in the same direction the girl was going. She had a light brown skin,  blue t-shirt, skinny jeans, and black sneakers. Her silky black hair was reaching down to her back.

She carried her massive purple backpack over her shoulder. I think she just moved here not so long ago. Her brown eyes were staring at me as if I was going to murder her. I took out my phone and began texting Seth, who was living nearby my house. Hey Seth, I typed. How is your foster father treating you? I waited patiently for his response until the girl's glare kept bugging me.

When I looked up at her, she stopped dead in her tracks. By now, I am getting used to the fact that I am a outcast, but her stares are creeping me out. "I am not a criminal," I said in a low voice. "So you can stop staring at me.

The girl took a deep breath then said, "I know you're not a criminal." I snickered at her comment. "Really?" he said. "Then what are you staring at?" The girl bit her lip then lied to my face. "Your phone," she said weakly. I looked carefully at my BlackBerry then back at me.

"What's wrong?" I teased. "They never invented it in your decade?" I don't know how to respond to him. As much as I wanted to go to school, my stupid guidance counselor told me to be a 'social butterfly'. "My name is Luke," I greeted. I saw the girl being relaxed a little.

"My name is Nicole," the girl greeted back. As in Nicole Teri Porter? I wondered. That's when I knew her: she was the strange fourteen year old girl I met at the airport. "But people call me-" "Cole, I know." I interrupted.

The End