How to Kill a Man in Thirty Seconds

Chapter 1: New Arrival

3 YEARS LATER...

The school bell rang through the classroom, a moment before a loud sigh of relief emanated. I sprang to my feet, gathering my belongings before heading for the door. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I dumped my books in my locker and hurried to the school bus, only to meet my best friend Brian waiting for me.

"Hey Charley," he called, flashing me his familiar smile again, "Why'd you look like you wanted to kill Edwards during last period?" Mr. Edwards, our History teacher, had been ranting on about the details of the first civil war and as much as I normally wouldn't have minded listening, I was seriously sleep deprived and it had been impossible to spare him any attention.

"Not enough sleep," I replied groggily, sinking into a seat right at the back.

"What was it, Charley?" Brian questioned while settling next to me. His brows wiggled mockingly, "What kept you up so late?" Ugh, best friend or not, his inner pervert was making its appearance again. Oh, who was I kidding? Brian always had his mind in the gutter.

I turned my head and stared at him, deadpan, "I had a school project, you freak. Get your mind out of the gutter."

He laughed this time, winking at me again, "Yeah, we all know that's going to happen, Charley." At this, even I couldn't help but crack a smile.

Brian and I had been best friends for over four years now, and so far, we'd never had a falling out, because, quite frankly, the guy never took anything seriously. With short cropped brown hair, hazel eyes which peered through horn rimmed, black spectacles and a five foot seven frame, we had known each other since my family and I had moved into the decrepit house next to his when I was fifteen. During a dinner between neighbors, we had bonded over a packet of Oreos and since then, we'd been inseparable.

My other best friend Oliver hurried into the bus now, plopping down on the seat in front of us. "Ol-," Brian started, but the former had already leant his head against the window and dozed off. Looks like I wasn't the only one betting everything on this final year of high school.

My mother rushed off to her part- time job the moment I returned home.

"Lunch is on the counter!" she yelled, before scurrying out through the front door.

Being a widow, she had to work relentlessly to earn a living. For her, a moment's rest was nothing less of a luxury.

"Got it, mum!" I called back.

But I didn't eat despite the fact that my stomach had been rumbling for the past hour or so. I went in search of my sister.

My sister Lily, who was eight years old, had been diagnosed with Down's Syndrome when she was about three and a half years. Unfortunately, my father had died a few months before the diagnosis. The thought of tending to Lily, whilst being our financial rock, had terrified my mother.

But the woman was strong. She always had been. She spent an hour or so every morning with my sister, before dropping her off at a developmental institute. She worked at the central Apple Valley Mall down the street, and that was where she spent most hours of her day, mopping floors and scrubbing at windows, until they were pristine clean, much unlike her face, which was caked with grime and drenched in sweat at the end of each exhausting day. This task she would only pause during her half-hour lunch break, when she would rush back to drop my sister at home.

Inevitably, my waking hours after school were spent tending to Lily, until such time early in the night when I put her to bed. For this very reason, I often found myself awake late at night, completing projects and assignments last minute. It was a task I didn't complain about, whilst my mother did her absolute best to keep our family afloat. Despite our sacrifices, it was only ever just enough, and only ever less, never more. Survive is what we did. But survival, as my mother repeated like prayer at the end of each draining day, much to her dwindling hope than to myself, was all we needed right now.