Count to Three

Clueless

Dedicated to k_olive for her virtual friendship and everlasting support.

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"Two possibilities exist: either we are alone in the Universe or we are not. Both are equally terrifying."
- Arthur C. Clarke

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Chapter 1:

When my father was murdered, he left behind no legacy. He had no money to his name - only the income in which my mother provided. The only people, besides my family, that were somewhat affected by his death were the bartenders at the local pub.

I recalled a quote that I read around the time of his passing: without trust, there is nothing. That was the truth. I loved nothing, I had nothing, and I was nothing.

For before the actions of that night, I trusted one person: Eli. It just so happens that the people you love the most, hurt you the most. Unfortunately, my brother left my mother and me alone in a house filled with sorrows and broken promises.

Mom decided that since I witnessed the crime, I was "unstable", and needed treatment. She was right, to some degree, but I wasn't crazy. I could handle myself. She admitted me to a mental hospital the month following the death, only visiting me once a week. She was always "busy" with work and such, and apparently it was too much of a bother to visit your own daughter. The seclusion was hard for me to deal with, because being alone meant my mind was able to wander. Flashbacks from that night would haunt my thoughts and dreams, forcing me into a deep and dark depression.

It was safe to say that my life was hell.

When the doctors finally cleared me to leave months later, I couldn't have been happier. I had friends that I hadn't seen in months outside of the hospital walls - or so I thought.

The shocking reality of being a murderer's sister struck me hard. People no longer looked at me as a normal person - I was a creep, and was immediately categorized as a murderer as well. Everyone was afraid of me.

My friends wouldn't even look me in the eye when I was able to go back to school. I was named the outsider even before I returned. It was absolutely mortifying.

Walking through the halls, hearing what they said as I passed was the worst part. 'Crazy Camilla' became my new label, sticking to me like a second skin.

As I sat and cried in the bathroom stall that first day, nobody was there to comfort me. Being alone was the new solidity of my existence. I didn't like it at all, but it wasn't like I had a choice. My opinion was no longer valid; I was no longer valid.

Even my teachers were cautious around me. They never called on my in class, and they'd always give me high marks on assignments, in fear that I might kill them if they didn't. It was a ghastly way to live, that was for sure.

A shred of hope came into my life on that foggy, spring morning. A new face made it's way into my first period Art class; a boy with dark hair and sharp facial features.

"Class, meet the newest addition to Art, Jaxon Boyd. Jaxon, this is the class."

After our teacher gave her brief introduction, Jaxon gazed around the room. We made eye contact for a second, but I was quick to break it. He smiled at me. It felt so nice to see someone who didn't know about my past.

Only time would tell when he would find out about my brother.

My thoughts became blurred, causing me to feel sleepy. I wasn't snapped back into reality until the chair next to me began to move.