Reality Bites

"You stuupid woman!" I heard my father shout before the sound of plates smashing and my mothers cries. I pick myself up off the floor and ran to my room, locking myself inside and hoping my mother would be ok.

Tony wasn't a terrible father. He always made sure we had what we needed and there was dinner on the table every night. He just had a terrible temper. I walked across my room and sat in the old rocking chair, I watched the raging wind and the pelting rain, cuting through the air like blades on the other side of my window.

Living with my father was much better then running to the streets. In the small town i live in, Bellingstoe, I wouldn't dare be outside at night. Theres a good chance the first night I'm out there I'd be raaped or muurdered. At night, pr0stitutes, druunks and druuggies take over the streets and theres no way anyone leaves their house without a death wish.

My school isn't much better. The grounds are trashed with lighters and empty spray paint cans, and not even half the school bothers to turn up.

I live in the good part of town, and by 'part' I mean 'street'. Arrow court is the furthest street possible from town and is populated with a grand total of two houses. It's the safest -and most expensive- place around, if you can't my dad as safe, and even though it's bellingstoe it would have to be the prettiest street I've ever seen.

The grass is green and yellow and purple flowers are scattered everywhere. On the left side of the street are to big, white houses. Both with wide verandas and white picket fences. My house has long flowing grass that reaches my knees and a stone path from the gate to the front door, and an old willow out the front.

Our neighbours house is similar, but more modern. Their grass is cut short and they have box shaped hedges hiding the veranda. They have lage, square, white pathers unlike our stone path and in the windows you can see a huge T.V. and expensive looking leather lounge.

I don't actually see my neighbours very often, but i know the mother, Sicealia, has the blackest hair i have ever seen and midnight blue eyes. The father, Henry, is very tall with dark curls and eyes almost as black as his pupils. Their son, Samuell, is a year older then me and goes to my school.

Lightning cracked and i lost my train of thought as Samuell peered through his curtains and straight up at me. As he looked at me, i stared back in amazment and envy, wishing i had his emrald green eyes and black hair. But as i watched i realized there was something off about him. Something dark that surrounded him that i just couldn't put my finger on. I noticed some other people i'd seen like that as well. The air around them just not quite right. One of them being my best friend.