Murdered With Love

2. the new lifestyle

"Freya!" Someone shouts from downstairs. "FREYA!"

A groan leaves my lips as I place the hair straightener on the desk. "I'm coming!" I shout back. Of course, everyone has to interrupt me on the first Monday morning back from spring break. All I need is to focus on school without my family interrupting me every second of the day.

My feet carry me towards the hall, down the step of stairs until I am finally in the living room. I frown, wondering who had called me. In the distance, I hear people talking.

"It's incredible how you can keep up with her." The voice says with a chuckle.

"She's alright." Says the other voice.

I run towards the hallways where I see Mike and Finn talking to each other. Mike is leaning against the doorpost and looks very nonchalantly towards Finn. Finn looks as if he would rather die than talk to Mike.

"Mike," I snap as I grab hold of one of the two double doors.

Mike chuckles, his muscled arms crossing in front of his chest. "I called you because your boyfriend is here." He mocks me.

I look up at him. "I can't wait for you to have a girlfriend so that I can bully you the same way as you bully me." I stick out my tongue.

"Wouldn't happen. Sex is overrated." He pats me on the back before he disappears into the hallway.

I roll my eyes after my uncle.

Mike is my uncle even though he's two years older than I am. He's my mom's youngest brother, but my mom is thirty-four, and he is nineteen.  Because of that, Mike feels more like a brother to me. I don't call him uncle unless if I intend to bully him, and sometimes I even call him my brother if someone asks about him.

My grandmother is very young to have a seventeen year old granddaughter. She's fifty-four, which is not really a grandma age. Despite that, she helped my mother with her pregnancy in any way possible. Clearly, she doesn't see a grand kid coming with her other two kids: Sanne and Mike.

So, we live here with my grandmother, Mike, Aunt Sanne, my mother, and me.

My father isn't in the picture. Mom told me that he doesn't want anything to do with me.

"How are you?" I ask Finn with a smile.

"I'm good, of course. Why would you ask?" He frowns as he shakes his head.

Finn, with his ginger hair and soft freckles all over his skin, had his hair in his normal spikes. I told him ages ago that he should change it, but he refuses to. I do have to admit, his style is awesome for a guy our age.

I shrug with a smile. "I don't know. Why don't you come inside?" I asked as I opened one of the double doors further open.

He chuckles as he stepped up the few steps to enter the house. He hangs up his jacket on the coat rack.

"Freya!" Someone shouts. "Breakfast is ready."

I turn to Finn. "Want to eat with us?" I ask.

"Nope, I have already eaten." He says.

"Too bad then." I grab his arm and pull him with me towards the dining room. Finn doesn't struggle and let me pull him around the house

When I enter the dining room, everyone is already seated.

The glass chandelier that hangs from the ceiling casts an ominous glow through the room. The expensive table clothes are folded up on our plates and we all have nine pairs of utensils: three forks, three spoons, three knives. The dark mahogany table stands in the middle of the room surrounded by twelve detailed chairs.