How To Make An Orphan

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"SHUT THE HELL UP!" I yelled at my alarm clock, slamming the button to turn it off.

I yawned grumpily, put my legs over the side of the bed, put on my slippers, and walked out of my room to the bathroom, fed up of life.

School sucks.

I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, showered, brushed my hair angrily because it was becoming a frizzy, knotted mess, and walked downstairs for breakfast.

My stepsister, Grace, joined me in the kitchen, all dressed up for school, prim and proper.

"Today is Mom and Daniel's 5th wedding anniversary. Let's make them breakfast."

"Yeah, yeah. Okay." I mumbled tiredly.

"How long were you up?"

"Till 3."

"That's the fifth time this month, Av. You gotta sleep earlier, and no distractions."

"Okay, Mom." I said jokingly.

"Okay, you scramble the eggs, I'll make the pancakes. We'll set up the tray together."

"Yup!"

*****
"We're ready!" Grace said, over-cheerfully.

"Let's just hope we don't walk into anything, uhm, y'know." I said.

"I know." Grace and I shuddered. We walked in on them this day 2 years ago.

I can not remove that picture from my mind.

Ever.

Gross.

Grace started to lightly tread up the stairs, tray in hand. I followed close behind, with cutlery, glasses, juice, and a bottle of prosecco because we're cheap and don't have enough money for champagne.

When we reached our parents' bedroom, I put my ear on the door.

"Okay, no moaning, no creaking bed, no weirdass sex talk, we're good!" I said cheerfully while Grace wrinkled you her nose.

"Seriously Av? So much detail?"

"Well, yeah! Gotta have all the deetz!"

Grace pressed her ear to the door. "There's no noise at all, not even snoring."

"Maybe they're up and planning on surprising us."

"Av, it's Mom and Dan."

"That's fair." We chuckled, and I looked down. My eyes caught on a short, red, twisted line branching from under the door.

A small, little stream of scarlet blood.

Grace and I heaved the door open.

"MOM!"

"DAD!" We shouted in wild despair. The two of us broke down the door, and stared at the room in shock.

Charlotte was sitting against the wall, seemingly asleep. Dad was near her, laying at her feet.

I walked closer to them as Grace despised blood. I looked at our parents more closely and gasped.

Three sluggers had gone through my dad's head at the temple, 2 at Charlotte's chest and one at her head. I gently went to hold their dead corpses, cradling their heads in my arms, softly weeping.

Grace came into the room, mascara running down her eyes, calling the police.

The window of the room was open, and it was a good thing our bedrooms were locked, or we'd be dead too.

I gazed at my father's dead body. Then my stepmother's.

"Dad, Mamacita, wake up, please. This is a joke, right? Please wake up!" I started lightly slapping their cheeks. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!" I dissolved into desperate sobs while Grace sat behind me and hugged me.

"It's gonna be okay, okay?" She said, trying to stay strong, but you could hear the quiver in her voice. I turned around to hug her, and we both just sat there, hugging each other and crying, until the police and ambulance came.

"It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay." The two of us chanted under our breaths. Two policemen came up to us and tried to comfort us, but I was too angry to notice.

Who the hell murdered our parents?! Who?! They had no goddam right! It was their anniversary! They had so much to live for! Grace could see me fuming, so she put a shoulder on my hand to calm me down. It worked.

"I promise you, it's gonna be okay."

Of course.

It has to be okay.

It HAS to!

Right?

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