Everything I'm Not

The Start of the End

It was a cold, january night. It had been months since school started, and Mr. Watson had recently become intrested in giving me looks. Not just any looks, "those looks." My friends were all jelous, i was actually scared out of my mind.

I turned onto my street and felt my car make a deflating sound.

"Damn.." I said, my tire had blown. I got out of the car and instantly wrapped my arms around my body. It was freezing. The sun had gone down, but was just peeking over the mountains enough that i could make out the slightest of features. Mr. Watson stood infront of me, holding a razor.

"You slit my tire." i complained, i dont know why i wasnt more frightened that my teacher, who lived miles away, followed me home at night and slashed my tires.

"Just like I'll slash your little throat." He smiled. I froze in fear, he was joking. He had to be, he wasnt like this. But i was wrong, i didnt know if he was like this, he had just been hired by our school. Maybe he was, maybe he was a phsyco killer. I didnt have a chance to run, thats the sad part. I dint have a chance to escape him, to keep going and live my normal, teenage life.

"Stop it." I said,I got out my phone but he took it and chucked it into the surrounding woods. It made a sharp, plasticy noise as it broke from the impact. What was wrong with this guy.

"Come on holly, were gonna go now. Infact, youre gonna go. Far away, youre gonna go on a little trip to the farm upstate." He said to me, using the same old excuse im sure almost all parents used when a childs beloved pet left them.

"Dont treat me like a 7 year old" I said, but i would never know if he responded, because all my senses went black but my sense of feeling. I felt the cold, lifeless razor dig deep into my stomach, along with the oozing, thick blood seep onto my abdomen. I was dying.

The last few moments of my life went by in slow motion, i got my vision back for a millisecond and saw the crazed killer dissapear away from his victim.

"job well done," I thought he was probably saying to himself. I thought of my parents, of how my mom was probably making dinner back in my house, and how my dad would drive down this exact rode in about 20 minutes. He would see a body, a girls one (mine, obviously) Laying in the street, the eyes looking up at nothing, well actually at something. At the place i was going to be soon. His headlights would illuminate my body, he wouldnt be able to take it in at first.

     Just as i predicted, my dad had driven down the exact rode and found my bloody body. He stopped his car as he saw the mess, not knowing what it was. He got out and walked over, careful not to let his new suit get ruined by the wet ground. His heart stopped as he saw the face of his own daughter. Looking up, looking to her new home. His shaking hands called 9-1-1 as he bent down and held his only child's lifeless hand, and let a tear role down his cleanly shaven face.

It was almost dark when the police cars rolled in, their sirens blaring throughout the peaceful neighboorhood. Surrounding house's owners opened their front doors, angry about the disturbance on a Thursday night. The cop got out, and walked over. He slowed his pace as he saw my dad crying next to me, and put a reasurring hand on his shoulder.

"Was she yours" He asked, a solemn tone taking over his official voice. "My only." He calimed.

I watched the paremedics dust me for finger prints, they found none. They lifted me onto a stretcher, covered my wound, and tried to pump the life back into me. It worked, but slowly. I felt myself enter my body, the color that was once faded, reappearing, my turqoise eyes fluttered open.

"Oh my god." I heard my mothers soothing voice gasp. I was back, but barley. Maybe not even permanently.