Bloodlust

Bloodlust Chapter One

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The following week was all a blur as I struggled to take care of all of my parents abandoned duties that mostly revolved around taking care of me, Ben, the house, etc. So, it wasn’t much different than before. I mean, it’s not like I had to worry about paying the bills or anything too extreme, seeing that we’d be out of that place within a few weeks. Plus, my parents always made sure to have everything in the house that we might need in case they weren’t home: first aid kit, plenty of food in the pantry, clean clothes, and money in our take-out food jar.

          My daily lifestyle, though, had changed rapidly. Now that my parents were deceased (I couldn’t bring myself to actually use the less scientific term because it still didn’t seem real enough, since they didn’t actually die; I killed them. Gulp.) I wasn’t able to roam around town with my friends or get into the kind of trouble that gave me the adrenaline I always yearned for. I had to grow up in a matter of seconds, to be fit to take care of Ben, and to be mature enough to show him that I’m taking care of everything. If I couldn’t do that, he would no longer be my brother. Well, he would in some sense. He just wouldn’t be living with me. Instead, he would be put into foster care where hopefully a nice family with a nice reputation could take proper care of a disoriented eight year old. And I would never see him again.

          So, which choice did you think I made? Well, let’s put it this way. Which would you choose? He’s my brother and it’s now my job to be there for him especially since our parents are no longer with us. He needs to have no doubt in his mind that I will always be here to help him get through this difficult time.

          Each day beginning right after school, I made multiple phone calls to relatives across the nation, explaining the current situation involving my parents’ murder and our lack of hospitality. See, my parents never bothered to leave the name or number of our guardians in case something were to happen to them. So, it was rather difficult to find a place to live when everyone we called was already too old to take in two children or just didn’t want to deal with us. As you can see, I was beginning to lose hope, until I saw a name on my little list that I’d constructed weeks before.  The only promising home I found was with a wealthy young woman named Maggie Jones, who claimed to be our aunt.

          I, being a teenager and all, looked her up on the one place I knew everyone would be listed on: Facebook. And there she was, Miss Maggie Jones, a current single at the age of 40, who was living in the state of New Jersey. Maggie had three cats whom she adored and was looking for someone who loved cats as much as she did and was interested in adopting (she’s not too keen on the idea of “Doing It”). I had to laugh at that, of course. Maggie seemed like the kind of person I could envision myself and Ben living with until I graduated so I decided to give her a call.

          The day after Officer Smith had “released the bomb”; I drove down to the police station. The two deputies, Smith and some other guy”, requested I fill out a form, regarding the murder. No doubt, they wanted to know if I’d found someone to take myself and Ben in until I graduated. So before I left for the station, I called the strange Maggie woman. This is how our conversation went:

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          “Hello,” a sweet, cheery voice had answered.

          “Hi,” I’d said. “This is Lexie Kenzington, the daughter of your brother James and your niece?”

          I heard her gasp on the other end. “Oh,” she cried in bewilderment. “Hello, dear. I haven’t heard from your family in ages. How is everyone?”