Hi guys, I'm sorry it took me so long to update, but I decided that to make the story better I had to make some major changes to the story. I rewrote the story and it took me a while, but I've done it now. I would recommend reading again from chapter one otherwise the story won't make sense. I'm sorry for the people who were enjoying how the story was going but I really thought it needed this improvement.
Another day in this cell… I looked up at the ceiling. The room was dull, boring: The walls and floor; grey. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling. The bed- If you could call it that –was made up from 2 sheets with a thin mattress, on top of a metal frame, which felt like it would collapse every time you touched it. The tiny widow next to the plain white wooden door leading to my bathroom had metal bars over it. The door to get out into the corridor was made from a solid metal; the door had a hole in it which was the size of a small shoebox, it was used to pass the 'food' I had to eat through.
I couldn't tell you how long I've been here, stuck in this room, it had to have been at least a year. I didn't get visited by anyone other than my sister, who visited as much as she could, which was only once a month. I was thankful for that visit, she told me about what was happening at home, so I knew they were treating her right.
The reason I was in here? Well… when I was younger I would… see things, I guess that's what you would call it. I could see the future, I would be able to tell you what the weather would be tomorrow, or if any relatives would be coming to visit. People from the town thought I was mad, though besides me being able to see the future I was a normal girl, nothing changed, I still had to do everything everyone else had to do. The only people that seemed to really except what I could do were my family; my parents and my sister, Cynthia.
Cynthia was like my best friend, not only my sister. We went everywhere together; she was only two years younger than me. As little kids we would play with our toys together in our room,
When I was 18, I had warned mine and Cynthia's friend; Lauren, not to marry her boyfriend, though she never listened to me, she had always believed me, but once I told her that their relationship would end badly, she stopped talking to me. She didn't come to school, she would never let us around to her house. I told her multiple times, she didn't listen to me though, and they got married. Three months after their marriage, they found out that he had insanity problems. He would beat her, he didn't mean to, he was a nice man, smart. But he had mental problems, in the end she ended up moving away, I've never seem her since.
A couple of months later after finding out my cousin was going to go traveling, I warned him not to, I had seen it all. It brought tears to my eyes. I begged my auntie to not let him go, but she didn't believe me, she had always thought I was making it up for the money. She thought my mom was a gold-digger, and only married my dad for the money. The feud between our families was always there though me and Cynthia and our cousins got on great. Until the vision… I remember begging him not to go, crying my eyes out. He ignored me, telling me he would be fine. He wasn't, while traveling around the world he died from an accident on the road.
Incident after incident more and more people thought I was insane, that I was cursed. Cursing everyone else, maybe they were right. But what if people listened to me, maybe everything would still be alright.
One night, I had a vision of my mom. She lay on a stretcher, unmoving… dead. The stretcher sat on the side of the road, I watched as the doctors rushed around to get her into the ambulance. The vision flashed, I was in the hospital watching as the doctors performed CPR, but my mom's start beat didn't start again.
I had panicked about the vision and told my mom immediately. She had stayed inside for months, only going outside for some air, or to walk to the shop. She stayed clear of the main roads. After a while she started to be less cautious, nothing had happened to her, she thought the vision would go away after a while. That it wouldn't happen, sometimes she even went out in the car.
Every time she drove out it made me nervous. I would always panic and cry, I would always tell her to wait, or walk with me but she would refuse, she thought I was going mad now. She believed what I had said before, about family visits or the weather, what people were going to do. But now she thought I was going crazy…
A loud bag brought me out of my trail of thoughts, it was the sound of a door being slammed, must be more tests, great.
Anyway, long story short, my dad got remarried and my new step mom didn't like me, though she liked my sister, and they sent me away to this place. I don't know what happened to my dad; after he got married he changed for the worst.
After the accident, Cynthia and I became distant with him; he always seemed lost in his thoughts. We didn't talk to him, just the occasional hello, and small talk as we ate dinner. Then a couple of days later when we came home from school, he was sat in the living room with a young woman, she couldn't of been much older than me, maybe 24.
He told us that they were getting married, and that they in love. I knew it would happen, I had seen it from the start. They didn't know that, and neither did Cynthia, they didn't have to know. I just hoped they were treating her right.
After they got married, our dad was happier, too happy maybe… he wife had died, and he got remarried in 4 months but he was happy. He wasn't nice to me, not at all, he was nice to Cynthia, but he said it was my fault my mom died. But he and I and his new wife knew it was his fault... I knew it, and I hated him with all of my being. Cynthia and I didn't get on with our new step-mom, she wasn't nothing like our mom, and she couldn't try to even replace her.
Cynthia kept her comments to herself, but I told her I didn't like her, and she didn't like me. We didn't speak at all. She knew I knew what she did, why I didn't like her. I couldn't care less about her, and she couldn't me.
Sitting on my bed, I heard the footsteps; someone was coming to my room. The door slowly opened, it was too dark to see anyone, the footsteps came closer, I saw the outline of a large man standing in front of me, the lights suddenly flew on, my father stood at the door and he held a large amount of money in his hand. The man stood over me with a knife in his hand, and suddenly it flew towards my chest.
I remember having the vision, the vision of my own death. I didn't know what to think at that moment in time. I walked down the stairs slowly, and walked into the living room. My father and step-mom were sat on the couch. I remember shouting, lots of shouting. She pushed me, and my back slammed into the door. I remember crying, crying from the anger I was feeling.
I was going to run just as she walked in, asking what was wrong. I told her nothing, she didn't need to know. I ran anyway, I didn't know where I was going at the time until I found myself at my aunties.
She shooed me away, she didn't want me. She was scared of me, I was the curse. I killed her son, and my own mother. I ran back towards town, only to find my auntie and father waiting for me. They were with the marshal. He took me home to get my things first before bringing me here.
I remember the day I was sent here, I stood by the door, knowing that my father and new step-mom wouldn't listen to anything I said anymore. There was no use. My sister came down the stairs, her footsteps echoing off into the silent house. Her eyes were full of tears, and bright red. She gave me a sad smile before my step-mom and father walked into the room from the kitchen.
I felt so bad for my sister; I didn't want to leave her here all alone with our father and our new mom. Not after what they had done, they were the mental ones.
I looked to Cynthia and tears welled up in my eyes, I rapped my arms around her and held her close.
"You'll be ok Cynthia, you're strong." I said to her, she didn't know what had gone on between my father and step mom. I did, that's why I was getting sent away.
"I'm sorry." She whispered as I felt her tears hit my shoulder.
I gave her a sad smile as I pulled back, moving over to stand by the door again. I opened it and turned back, I didn't look to my so called 'parents' as I turned to Cynthia, my little sister; she was only 2 years younger than me. We got on all the time, we never fought. I smiled at her, and received one in return. Then I turned away from my sister, my house, my life.