Wow, I thought glumly. I feel loved. It's not easy, I'll tell you that. Being shipped like cargo from sunny San Francisco, California to a depressing reform school in the middle of nowhere. Joyful. So, I had two days to pack up my stuff, get in my parent's car, and head on down to the end of my life.
I had packed a couple of important things. My makeup, some casual wear, sleep wear, formal wear, jewelry, and under-things. My mom called up from downstairs.
"Time to go, Cay!" her voice rang like a bell. "Let's not be late!"
I sighed. Yup, don't want to be late for the day I die to the rest of the world. I couldn't believe who I was leaving! An awesome boyfriend, a super cool best friend, my worst enemy! Life totally sucked right now.
"CHAOS LORRIE MAISON!"
My eyes widened and reached to grab my stuff more quickly. Toothpaste, hairbrush, toothbrush, cell phone, wallet. Got it. I ran downstairs as fast as I could, nearly tripping as my feet thumped on the hardwood. Hoping I wouldn't have to hear my dad yell again.
"CHAOS-" as soon as he began, I knew I was in trouble. I dropped my stuff at the bottom of the stairs and cringed.
"H-Hi, dadd-" I was cut off by the sound of an ear-deafening SMACK! The whole right side of my face stung and I could feel heat rush to my cheeks. I tried to keep quiet, which only got me another slap, but on the other cheek. My whole face stung now, and I felt water build up against my will in the corner of my swollen eyes.
I heard my mom walk into the bathroom on the other side of the house. Of course. She was never here when he was a jerk. He made sure of that.
"You will LISTEN to me when I call you, you ungrateful little SNOT!" with each word that was yelled, he either hit me or slapped me. I knew my father would come home drunk tonight. "You're lucky to even have a BED in this HOUSE!" again and again, he hit me. My face became number, my senses dulled with stinging pain.
I rolled my pained eyes. He was just waiting until my mom left to hit me again. I had been through this so many times before. Rubbing my already swelling cheeks, I grabbed my things and ran out to our little black car, trying to avoid any other beatings. Soon enough, my mom and dad came out to the car. My dad got in the dirty drivers' seat and started the car.
The bright, afternoon sky turned more gray and ashen the longer we drove.
"Honey, you know you need this school," my mom began. "Because of those things you see." she blinked and quickly added, "And that you hear."
I sighed. It wasn't my fault, though. The Faces-that's what I called them-were dark, sinister shadows that had horrible faces of people that died. They called out to me, their dreadful, groaning voices begged me to join them in the afterlife-and at one point, when I was thirteen-I almost got so sick of it I did. But I've seen them forever. When I was younger, they appeared in cute little animal form, lurking around my room and watching me. Then they became crueler, more demonic and torturing. I tried to ignore them as much as possible.
"The little freak," I heard my dad mutter under his breath. I growled.
"What was that, Rayve?" my mother put her hand on his powerful, muscular arm.
My dad seemed to suddenly snap out of his own little world. "Huh? Oh, I said I thought I heard a creaking noise. Probably my imagination." He smiled at her.
Without realizing it, I had shut my eyes and had quickly fallen asleep, dreaming of The Faces and their pain-inducing screams. I woke up to my mom shaking my arm.
"Cay, we're here! Your new school!" she said happily. I looked at the gray building, decorated like it was a mansion from the Victorian era. Security guards lined the old house about every five yards. Arched windows were covered from the inside by black curtains. High steps led to the black double doors. A cemetery was fenced in to the right of the building. I could tell my stay here would be just great.
