Picture Perfect

Chapter One

WARNING Strong swearing, sexual parts, triggering material, and some bad spelling(I did my best). 

 The pic is Alexander.

I stood, looking at the grave the casket was placed over. Silence suffocated me, not a sing bird chirped. Everything was still. The sky was an ominous shade of grey, I was filled with anger, staring at the good looking boy with shaggy black hair. This was all his fault. He was the reason this was happening. He was the reason my brother, my only friend, was taken away from me!

I wanted to kill him, to scream at him, to break down and cry. It was all his stupid fault for not just hitting the dear. This was all his fault!

Thunder crashed through the air. I jumped. I had never liked thunder.

My oldest brother, Luke placed a hand on my shoulder. I flinched away from it. I walked forward with my Mother, and little sister, Sara, and carefully took a red rose in my hand, gently cradling it. I turned away, walking away from the funeral, unable to keep the tears back any more.

A few months later I sat on the large, comfortable arm chair, carefully sketching the red rose, my brother’s face leaning over it, smelling it. He had a small, sad smile on his lips. I could almost feel his arms around me, his hands stroking my hair, telling me he was okay, and that everything would be okay.

A knock sounded on my door, shaking me from my trance. “Come in!”

My father stood in the door way. “The boys and I are going hunting, will you be okay alone?” Worry danced through his eyes. I nodded. I had been here alone plenty of times before. They always went hunting. I never went. I didn’t want too.

“We’ll be gone until school starts, are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be fine. I promise.”

“don’t have any parties.” He joked. We both knew I hadn’t made any friends since I had moved in with him and my brothers.

My mother and Daddy had been divorced for as long as I can remember. I used to live with my mother, and little half-sister, along with my step dad, but since Darren had died, she hated me. We always fought. She blamed me for his death.

Soon, I couldn’t take it, and moved in with Daddy, Luke, and Sammy from Florida to California next to the border of Washington, into a large house nestled into the woods, right next to the beach. My room was really big, and decorated very fancily. It was on the second floor, and had a balcony that over looked the woods.

My room was pained royal purple, and had dark, shiny hardwood floors, with expensive rugs on them. I had an elegant four poster bed, (Which I pushed into the corner.) and a black leather couch and two matching arm chair, facing a large flat screen TV, nestled between two large book shelves filled with movies and video games, that had gaming counsels, perched above a fake fire place.

I’m not sure what my dad did for work, but I did know he was really rich. I hand an I-phone 5, and I-pod touch(Which I hated. I liked my regular mp3 player.)  a lap top(Mac, of course. Also hated it.) and a shiny black, convertible BMW, and credit card I could use any time. I had everything I asked for (Which was mostly art things) and I was Daddy’s little princess, even though I didn’t act like a spoiled brat. I didn’t wear designer clothes, didn’t take advantage of the money, didn’t complain. I was just happy with everything I got, even if I hated it, I didn’t say anything.

My dad told me they were leaving, and soon I was all alone in the large house (more like mansion). Most teens  would kill to be alone for two weeks, but I didn’t like it. I always felt so lonely and abandon.