Shoot

Chapter One

“Hey, Penny, you want a ride or not?”

I look up, my eyes locking on my father, who is standing in the doorway with the familiar strained look on his face. I think seriously about saying no to his offer, but the sound of the rain spluttering onto the roof makes me stop. Walking the mile to school in the pouring rain isn’t a very appealing idea, and I really don’t feel like showing up to school soaking wet. It would only be another reason for the other kids to harass me.

“Sure, you can take me.” I say in a small voice and give a nod, my naturally wavy, shoulder-length black hair bouncing with the movement. He nods and turns away from me, and walks down the hallway and out of sight.

I stand up from my spot on the bed, and reach up to scratch an itch on my brow. It is very unlike my father to offer to do anything nice for me. In fact, it’s unlike him to even talk to me. You can tell it’s almost painful for him to socialize with me. It’s been this way since my mother died, four years ago. I was just eleven when it happened, still a child, not understanding the implications of what I walked into on one innocent day.

One autumn day, four years ago, I was playing in the back yard on a broken down swing set, and I fell off and skinned my knee. My first and most obvious thought was to go to my mom, and that’s what I did. My father and brother Troy weren’t even home, they were at Troy’s baseball practice. So, I ran inside with blood running down my leg and tears running down my face.

I went to my parent’s bedroom, knocking on the door, exclaiming “Mommy! I fell down! I’m bleeding!” but there was no answer.

“Mommy!” I said, but there was still no answer.

I opened the door, still crying. “Mommy!”

I stopped dead in my tracks as I took in the sight before me. On my parent’s bed is my mom. Or what used to be my mom. She is sitting up on the bed, her back rested against the headboard. In between her knees, sits my father’s shot gun. She had no head. It is just a bloody, mangled stump of a neck and chunks of matter splattered on the wall behind her.

Oh, I can still picture it perfectly. I shudder as I remember. Oh god, I just couldn’t accept it. I just fell to my knees and cried and screamed until my father came home. He took me away, and things were never the same.

My mom was my hero. I thought she was a perfect person, and I thought we had a perfect family. When she died, I realized that in fact, we had a horrible family that was only being held together by my mother. Once she was gone, the family dissolved. My older brother moved out, and my father resented all of humanity, including me.

Back to the present, I grab my backpack from the chair in the corner of my room, shaking my head and driving the thoughts out. I walk towards the mirror hung up on my wall, and check my makeup; the thick black eye-liner making a ring around my brown eyes, white powder shimmering on my pale white skin, and dark red lipstick painting my thin lips.

“Penny! Let’s go!” My father’s voice reaches me from the front of the house. I sigh, grip the strap to my backpack tighter, and turn to go.