A young girl with carmel colored hair and green eyes sits in her front lawn, the warm summer sun beating down on her pale skin covered in bruises. To think, this sweet young girl was being violently hit by her peers just hours before. Alice was her name, she was a kind and intelligent girl but didn't seem to have many friends, so she often spent time alone creating her own friends, imaginary friends if you will. She had so many of these friends, in fact, she had to name them all numbers just to keep track. Out of them all there was one that stood out in particular, her name was Zero. She was the very first of Alice's imaginary friends, created to protect Alice from all of her bullies. Whenever they would tease or physically beat her, Zero was there to take care of them. They were best friends and spent everyday together, telling her stories, jokes and even make fun of Alice's neighbor who was in charge of watching her when her parents had to go out on business. Life wasn't so lonely for Alice.....until that day.
As Alice sat on the soft grass, looking down onto the street, she felt a strange sensation, an urge. Something in the back of her mind was telling her to go to the other side of the road. When the idea finally consumed her she skipped down to the small neighborhood street. Her bare feet hit the hot concrete, carefully watching each step as she crossed. When she looked up she saw something come towards her, a large white truck. Eyes wide with horror, she stood there in shock bracing for impact. A loud screech of rubber against concrete, the vehicle spun past her tumbling down the large hill opposite of her home. She heard the crunching of metal and a woman's scream as It kept rolling until it hit a large tree at the base. Only a moment later the dismantled vehicle burst into flames, smoke climbing the side of the tree. Alice's pale eyes stared down at the tragedy as the drivers door opened and someone fell out, desperately crawling, grabbing at the forest floor. Alice's father stared up the hill at his loving daughter, covered in his own crimson blood and bright red flames. He screamed but couldn't move, his leg caught between the wheel and the metal, pain flowing through his body before his screams were silenced and he stopped moving. As the red flames consumed the scene, she saw someone in the passenger seat, her loving mother, burning to death in the flames. Alice fell to her knees, warm tears flowing down her cheeks, her nose dripping down her chin.
"MOMMY!! DADDY!!!" She screamed, witnessing everything in horrific detail. Grief and sorrow filled her entire body, replaying the scene over and over in her head. Red flames and crimson blood was the last she saw of her parents on the warm summer day.
After her parents accident her neighbor, Mr. Rogers, took her in out of guilt. She hated him, he was a dirty, fat man who was drunk almost every minute of everyday. But she hated him even more for not watching her that day, because of him....she killed her parents. But there was no one else, no family no friends, she was left alone, misery being her only company.
Many years later, the light brunette sits in her history class, doodling little cartoon people in her sketchbook. As she went on to drawing someone's hair, something violently snapped her out of concentration. A wrinkled hand over a quiz with a large zero on it covered her work.
"Alice, I suggest you actually pay attention in my classroom, you do not need another zero." said Alice's wrinkly old history teacher.
Alice suddenly felt her head pound. Something about what she just said....bothered her, but she didn't know what it was.
"Y-yes, Mrs. Kirst." Alice said, not making eye contact. As she sat in class, pretending to know what was going on, but her head continued to ach more and more until she felt like she was going to be sick. She asked to be excused, and quickly ran to the restrooms.
Alice splashed cold water onto her burning face, looking up into the mirror. But jumped back, heart pounding, when she saw her reflection. She swore she saw herself......blink. A few hours later, she sits in her art class, watching her classmates work on their projects. While doing so, her hand slips and she cuts her hand pretty deeply with a razor blade, red liquid spilling out on her work. But she felt nothing. Before she knew it the teacher was staring at her, eyes wide, and rushed her to the nurse. When she returned, she hid her face and walked back to her seat. But she froze before she sat down, red circles completely covered her work and desk. The whole situation made her shake, and as soon as the bell rung, she ran out into the halls.
