My Name is Michael: Story about Michael Afton

Chapter 1

I knew that something was wrong when I walked home that day. I could feel it in my chest. When I unlocked the door and stepped inside, the strong smell of alcohol hit my nose. I sighed. Dad must be day drinking again. But there isn't much I can say that'll stop him. 

         I hadn't made the best decisions either. I killed my own brother. And even though it was an accident, I still did it. It was my fault. It was all my fault. Chris dying. Elizabeth going missing. Dad drinking. Mom driving off a cliff. And I couldn't fix it. If someone had told me back when Mom and Dad gave a shit about me that I'd fuck up the whole family, I'd have laughed in their faces. Told them that I loved my little siblings no matter what. And that part was true. I didn't mean for any of it to happen, I was just so angry. Angry that my parents loved them better. Upset that no matter what I did, they never even looked at me. Sad that my siblings loved me so much and I couldn't be a better person. 

       Crying is a weakness. Fighting shows strength. You can wear a mask to hide what you feel. Hang out with the kids that smoke to gain a reputation. Ditch your real friends. You can talk and walk and act like everyone else to blend in. But no matter what you do, you can't keep it in forever.

       Crying keeps you sane. Fighting makes you bleed. You burn the mask because it's a painful memory of who you pretended you be. Stop hanging out with the kids that smoke because they didn't like you that much anyway and they left the air full of the stench of tobacco. Can't seem to find your real friends. You can walk and talk like yourself because you're tired of putting a show on. Because no matter what, you can't keep it in forever.

   I shuffled into my bedroom and took out my math book. I started to work on the take-home test, doodling in my art notebook every 5 minutes. I was surprised I still had the energy to doodle. Then I realized what I was drawing. It was Chris. I sighed and closed the notebook, focusing on the take-home test once more. I filled about half of it out before Dad burst into my room. 

          "I don't care that you're crying, Cassidy, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU. Stop RUNNING." He slurred. He tipped the bottle of whiskey accidentally, getting it all over my carpet. I didn't know what he was talking about, but did I really want to? Cassidy Deganery was one of the younger kids in Hurricane, who had gone missing a while back. But she wasn't the only Cassidy, so he could really be talking about anyone. I had to hope, anyways. "Mike!" He swung around to face me. "I have a surprise for you tomorrow!" He grinned, then hiccupped. "But don't get too excited, you know I still hate you after what you did." He continued. 

       It felt like another punch in the gut. My dad doesn't love me. But who was I kidding? Ever since Liz was born, I was merely a decoration. Not his child. And Mom loved Chris better than me because he didn't remind her of getting knocked up by Dad before she was married. Elizabeth tied for first in her eyes because she was the only other girl. I still loved my siblings, but it was difficult to watch my parents shower them with attention and not give me a second glance. I listened to their bedtime songs every night while I was in my room alone. I hated feeling like I didn't matter. And I took it out on them. They didn't deserve that. They were just kids. Me? I could take it. Because nobody ever looked out for me. But they were my brother and sister. I should've been the one taking care of them. And I've beat myself up every day since Chris got bitten. It repeats in my head every night. It's my fault, it's my fault, it's my fault, it's my fault, it's my fault, it's ALL MY FUCKING FAULT. My fault, my fault, my fault, my fault. Why couldn't I just be nice? Why did I agree to Kayden's stupid prank?  Why am I such a terrible person?

    I was afraid to know what my father wanted from me. I didn't want anything else bad to happen. But knowing my family, it was. We couldn't seem to stay away from death. It was almost comical. As Dad shuffled out of my room, I circled the last couple of answers on the test. I pushed back my desk chair and left the house through my window. We have a two-story house, but I sleep on the first story. Not sure why. When I reached the fence, I swung over it and started to head towards the cafe. 

     James's car pulled up next to me as I was walking and he rolled his window down. "Hey, Mike?" He asked. I turned in his direction. He looked at my face and his eyes widened. My dad had been too drunk to notice, maybe even to care, but I looked awful. I hadn't slept well in months. My skin was so pale I was almost white, and my eyes had dark circles beneath them. "Oh." He said. He hesitated, then continued. "You know what, no. I'm not gonna sit here and feel bad right now. Get into the car." James motioned to the passenger seat. I sighed and got into the car. "Where are we going?" I asked. 

    "To Cameron's. We're going to get you and your moping ass up and moving again." He said in all seriousness. "Wait a minute. You're actually willing to put up with me? I killed my brother, remember?" I gawked. "We all know the way you look is due to the fact that you killed him. You didn't mean to and you obviously regret it. Plus, who said I didn't have a couple of skeletons in my closet?" He pointed out. "James, you and can both tell that the biggest skeleton in your closet is the pet parrot that you accidentally choked with a cracker." I deadpanned. He looked at the road. "Maybe." He admitted. "Definitely," I said.  "Okay, fine. Sally is the only skeleton. But that wasn't the point!" He scolded. "The point is that yes, I'm gonna put up with you and your... baggage." He said. "Now come on. We're here."