My mother was too nice for her own good.
My father was clueless.
My little brother was a douche.
My older sister was a super model.
I was imprudent. He was perfect.
He had showed up at our house in late November, brought by my mother from the supposedly haunted mansion literally up the road, and he had stayed with us for exactly one month. I was a junior in high school back then, stupid and naïve, hidden in my sister Kim's shadow. Completely invisible, being the middle child, bowing to my siblings.
I grew tired of it. But he saw me, even when nobody else did. He had never really talked much, but he had said more with his actions and his silence then most people say in an entire speech. He made me feel like I was there, like I was more than just an accident that people only thought of when they needed someone to do their laundry.
It sounds ridiculous to even say this, because he hardly ever spent time with me. I knew he was in love with Kim, I did, I knew it, but I still could not let that go. Kim got everything. When would it be my turn? I wanted Edward, she had Jim, but Edward didn't want me. That's what happens when your sister looks like Winona Ryder, you disappear, you don't matter, and all the boys only see her.
I sat at my writing desk, glaring at the ugly yellow wallpaper that my mother had chosen for my room in attempt to make it more…how did she say it?...'cheerful.' My head hurt from cracking Trigonometry equations, finally admitting that I wasn't born to become a world-renowned mathematician like John Nash. I snapped my pencil between my teeth, throwing it at the wall in aggravation.
I sat back in my cheap plastic swivel chair and sighed loudly, rubbing my sore eyes with my fingertips. I was already developing a migraine, and it was barely three o'clock. My eyes continued to burn as I continued to ignore my homework. I wish I had as many friends as Kim did to go out with on the weekends. She knew the 'better half' of the entire Suburbia High School; I hung out with maybe one or two.
Kim had left camping to the mountains, and was supposed to come back Sunday night, right in time for school on Monday. My brother Kevin was spending the weekend with his equally primeval buddies, and I was stuck here, doing-guess who's-laundry. That was how the weekends normally went in my overly-exciting life.
I obviously wasn't happy.
I heard the front door open. I was home alone, and not that we had any crime in Suburbia, pastel-perfect hell-excuse me-paradise, it still did not hurt to make sure you know who's coming in-not that we even locked our doors. I pushed off of the chair and stood up, lingering in the doorway of my room.
"Mom?" I called out tentatively, my gaunt frame casting a pathetic shadow into the hallway from the sunlight streaming in from the window behind me in my room.
"Honey, I'm in here!" She called back, sounding preoccupied.
"Okay." I muttered a reply, shaking my head. I turned back to step inside my chamber and enchain myself to my desk when she called me back.
"Honey, come in here, I'd like you to meet someone!" She shouted down the hall, the sound of her voice traveling into my ears. I groaned slightly. That's probably why I didn't have so many friends, I didn't like meeting people, because I always became tongue-tied and looked like a loser. I was hopeless.
"Coming." I muttered, running a brush through my stringy, dark brown hair. It wasn't silky or big like my sister's. It was just…mine.
I walked down the hallway in the large vast living room, turning my head in search for my mom. She was smiling and chattering, her eyes crinkling at the corners behind her large glasses, speaking to the person next to her. The being beside her caught me off guard, and I stopped short in the doorway, staring rudely.
He was tall and gaunt, clad in a skin-tight, black-leather outfit that had too many shiny silver buttons and zipper tracks. His hair was jet black and utterly wild. Big and bold, it stuck out in all directions, framing his ghostly-pale, scarred face. But the most shocking of all were his hands. They weren't even that, they were sharp, long scissors. He had scissors for hands! He-
"Come here, Katrina." My mother urged, and I realized how rude I was being, staring at him like that.
I moved towards them in a dazed state, not taking my eyes off of his insomniac expression. My mom looked like she wished I would stop staring. "Katrina, dear." She stressed my name pointedly. "Meet Edward, he's going to be living with us."
What? I gazed up at him. "Hi." He murmured softly, shyly reaching on of his…err…hands towards mine. How was I supposed to shake that?
I touched one of the scissors softly, but they were sharper than they looked. Bright red blood oozed from a small, clean cut on my fingers. But that was enough. I was terrified of blood, and before Edward could manage a heartfelt, apologetic reply, I stumbled away from him, sprinting towards the kitchen sink in eagerness to wash the blood away before I passed out.
I'm sorry this was kind of short, but I'm just testing it to see if people would want me to continue. Please review, and thank you for reading.