The Wood of Illusions

Chapter I: My alarm forgets to wake me up on time, again

I could never really say I was a normal kid, and now that I think about it, I can't think of one time I'd consider myself even close. You can say that my life isn't all I make it out to be and that I'm just saying that because I've had struggles or whatever, but if you'd lived what I've lived through, you'd agree with me wholeheartedly.

You see I always had the rough life: from my three rotten little step-siblings getting me in trouble, to being picked on by every bully or 'queen bee' who I grace my presence with, to being blamed for every little mishap that coincidentally happens when I enter the room (I'm not gonna even mention my school life). The point is I'm not normal. And although I wish otherwise, there's not a thing I can do about it. If anything it's about to get a whole lot worse.

My peaceful sleep was interrupted by the annoying bleating of my alarm clock: just my luck I was running late again, and on the last day of school too. I did what I always do when I get up in the morning: silently pray that I'll have one good day at school and speed down the stairs for breakfast. My mom, Gwendolyn Pitcher (Now Gwen Jacobs), would be in the kitchen humming a tune while cooking up some breakfast for the kids.

I would say my mom is the most beautiful person you'll ever meet, inside and out. She has short golden-blonde hair, naturally wavy, and striking blue eyes that always make you feel at home. I love my mom, she's probably the one person that truly understands me.

She is my birth mom, and married my step-dad when I was around two or three years old. I'd always respected her decision to marry after my birth dad's passing, and always will. She's sacrificed so much for me, and I do everything I can to help her as much as possible, after all, I'm the most troubled kid you'll ever meet.

I never knew my birth dad; however, I imagine he must have had kind eyes, as what I had gathered from what my mom told me. She said he was a very kind man, but could be very stubborn, and loved to take our small family out to the beach, back when we lived in California. She said she loved the way he would look at her, as he often had the spark of mischief twinkling in his eyes when he had a nasty, but ultimately hilarious idea. She always said that I reminded her of him, and that I had his kind yet mischievous sea-green eyes. All I can say is I really wish I could've met my dad before he died.

I've known my step-dad, Robert Jacobs, for as long as I can remember. He literally is the father I never had, as my birth dad died when I was just a toddler. I always loved his longish salt and pepper-colored hair and happy brown eyes, as he was there for me for when I needed him and always loved to play with me as a child. He was a fairly tall man, at least to me because I'm only 5'0", and fairly muscular as well with a nice tan. I could always see why my mom fell in love with him.

My step-dad would leave home early in the morning, as he was a brain surgeon, and wouldn't come home until about five o'clock in the afternoon. He always came home earlier than his co-workers just so he could spend time with his family (although of course there are times where he has to go back to the hospital in emergencies). I always appreciated that he came back home early, that way I could spend time with him, and he had always loved spending time with me so we have an incredible bond I wouldn't trade for the world.

Now, I should probably tell you why I kept my mom's maiden name, Pitcher, once I had accepted my step-dad as my own father. Well the answer for that is that I wanted to have at least some connection with my birth dad, as he'd died before he could marry my mom. So, I figured it was my only other way of having a connection with him, as he knew my mom as Gwen Pitcher.

All I can really say is that I love my parents; they're some of the only people in my life who have ever really cared about and protected me.