Hello, this is the story of my character, Darius Turner, and the unfortunate events that turned his life upside down. xD I hope you enjoy it; there will be a variety of action! Oh, and any tips to make it better would be greatly appreciated!
Status: In shock
Despite my better judgement, I have stooped to my brother's level; I am now writing a pansy-fied man-diary. If I could express my exasperation, I would. Of course, I have a good reason to write in a diary (besides being a pansy, which I am NOT). My reason is not that I have become a bloodsucking vampire, my sister nearly died, my brother has a better love life than me, or even that my coven was brutally slaughtered by Hunters. Well, that's connected. You see, man-diary, this is how it went...
A few months ago, I worked at the Upper Arlington Police Department in Upper Arlington, Ohio; I was a rookie cop, trained in the lethal arts of artillery (pistols) but lacking the drive to actually help society. I ended up quitting my job after a particularly nasty drug bust, when I decided searching for cocaine was not my cup of tea. After all, I am the type to deal the drugs and ditch the donuts, if you know what I mean.
So, here I am-a twenty three year old man chilling at his parents' house, until he can find a better job. At the moment, I'm sharing the four bedroom home with my mom, dad, younger brother, and younger sister. My younger brother, Atticus (yeah, yeah, I know. Atticus Finch. I don't get it either.), just recently graduated from high school and turned nineteen. He was still slumming it with our parents with the excuses of "looking after" our nine year old sister, Stephanie. He also mentioned something along the lines of waiting for college acceptance letters, but I doubt they were coming. Mom and Dad work for some big corporation that I never cared to learn much about, considering it prevented them from being with me. At the moment, Mom is off on some business trip in Adrian, Michigan, and the rest of the family is gathered around the T.V. Well, Stephanie is asleep, since her bedtime had already passed. Dad, oddly enough, is also snoring softly on the couch, so it's just me and Attie. Ten TV news had just finished a special report discussing a wild series of events and natural disasters in Michigan, when the doorbell rang. I, of course, answer the door, only to be greeted by a girl around Stephanie's age. The girl's snow white hair, pale skin, and bright eyes look kind of familiar, but I can't remember where I had seen them.
I'm almost about to ask her if I know her from somewhere, when she asks, "Can Stephanie come out and play?" I think to myself, That's nice. Stephanie has friends. Then I look up at the night sky. Damn, it's late. I revise.
"Uhh...no, Stephanie is sleeping. Speaking of which, why aren't you?" I frown at the girl in front of me, to which she frowns right back.
"Why can't Stephanie play?" She asks me, almost simpering. I point outside, motioning to the darkness, and reply as friendly as possible, without trying to sound like a prick.
"It's way too late and you didn't answer my question, kiddo." I say, obviously failing from the look on the kid's face.
"I don't like you anymore," She says darkly, tosses me a glare, and darts off into the night. I breathe a sigh of, "Good riddance", once she's left: the kid creeped me out. Before discussing the awkward encounter with Atticus, I choose to lock each bolt on the door; something about that girl's tone really had me itching with worry. As I relay the scene to Atticus, however, I feel myself relaxing. At least, I eased up on that subject. Even after I fall asleep, new concerns over how the "natural disasters" are affecting my mom's business trip haunt me.
I am jolted awake the next morning by the neighborhood storm sirens blaring obscenely loudly, which is weird since it's a bright, sunny and all "lovely neighborhood you've got here!" kind of day. On top of that, the house fire alarm starts beeping like a mad hound. I rush across the hall to check on Stephanie, just as Atticus breezes past me to check on Dad downstairs. When I finally reach Stephanie's princess bedecked room, my little sister is sitting upright, wide awake and very confused. She appears whole and well, never the less, I lean down on one knee to address her.
"Hey, Steph. You okay?" I ask her and she blinks in reply,
I'm fine. Darius, why is it so loud this morning?" Before I can respond, Atticus walks into the room looking disheveled. I raise an eyebrow at him (or attempt to, I never fully mastered the art) and am about to question his attitude, when he beams a brilliant smile at the room and shouts joyously, "Road trip!"
"Why are we leaving, Atticus?" Stephanie asks, curious.
"Because it's time to go on a fun adventure!" He replies, just as cheerful as before. Then he adds to me, "Dad is sleeping deeply, Dairy. Could you go get some donuts, please?" I almost glare at him for the use of one of his more demeaning nicknames, but decide against it. A couple minutes later, (after I've made my way downstairs) I realize just exactly why Atticus looked so haggard. Still lying on the couch, my dad, indeed, was in a deep sleep-a sleep he would never wake up from. He lay perfectly the same way he had the night before, however, instead his throat had been slit from shoulder to shoulder. Dark stains pooled down his shirt. I stare at all that blood for God know's how long, until I hear Atticus' voice from behind me.
"We need to pack anything important and take Stephanie away from home." He states, matter-of-factly. Of course we do, I tell myself. That's exactly what we need. A road trip. I'll pack my stuff. But, for some reason, my feet won't move. "We should...hide Dad's body under the kitchen table." He continues, although I'm really not paying much attention. Under the kitchen table? Aren't you supposed to put dead bodies in coffins or, like, the ground? Isn't that disrespectful? I ramble to myself. Luckily, my reverie is broken by my dad's cell phone ringing. I turn around to notice that Atticus is already gone. Probably packing... I tell myself. I sneak the cell phone off of the coffee table, trying not to look at Dad again. I don't even look at the caller ID before answering.
"'Sup, bitch?" Now, I know that was probably the worst way to answer your freshly murdered dad's phone, but, hey, they say trauma does a lot to you and it seemed like a good idea at the time. Of course, it really wasn't a good idea.
"Darius? Watch your tongue! Put your father on the phone, it's important." My mother's irritated voice responds from the receiver. I glance down at Dad's lifeless body and reply back to her.
"Uhh...yeah. He's kind of busy at the moment. Can I take a message?" I tease, throwing on a nonchalant tone. This, unfortunately, only seems to irritate Mom more.
"No, dammit, put him on now!" She curses back at me. A little voice in my head muttered, hypocrite... but I ignored it. Best not to argue with your mommy, eh? Being the good boy I am (cough cough), I reply to her as earnestly as the situation called for.
"Don't take this too hard, but...he's dead." I stated bluntly. A long moment of silence extends through the phone, before it is broken by my mother's voice.
"I thought so," she says gravely. She knew?