The sun was beaming through her blinds, causing the woman to stir. Usually, waking up was a simple task for Angela; she was a morning person; she groaned when the first beam of sunlight hit her face.
Angela picked up her nightstand alarm clock and looked at the time.
"Ugh, why is it so early?" She placed her clock back on the surface and slowly began to sit up. She put her hand to her head which was throbbing. "Nothing, a little Excedrin, can't handle." Crawling out of her warm bed, she walked to her bathroom, took two pills, and poured tap water into her rinse cup. Once she had taken her medicine, she jumped into a warm shower, washing away any residue.
When she was done, she headed downstairs; her mother had set the table for breakfast.Angela somehow had a feeling of confidence and an urge to get out of the house. Not only had her mother lied to her about her biological dad, but she had made her live with this monster all her life.
Angela felt sick in her stomach looking at this coward of a man.
"Good Morning, Mom and Dad."
Her mother looked up, surprised at her sudden tone of happiness.
"Good Morning, honey," said her mom, "how did you sleep with this storm?"
"Like a baby," she answered, sounding cheerful."
She caught her dad's eye looking at her; he had a look of annoyance and disgust; nothing new, Angela thought; at least now she knew why; her Amazonian figure sat well on her wafer-thin body. She had a decanter-shaped waist, and her complexion had an impeccable, ochrous hue. Her pencil-thin eyebrows eased down gently to her black, beetle's-leg eyelashes. A sculptor could not have fashioned her seraph's ears and pixie's nose any better.
Her beguiling, oyster-white teeth lit up the room when she broke into a smile. It could jolt you like an electric current when that megawatt smile gave you her full attention.
Filed to perfection, her Venus-red fingernails ran through her nougat-brown hair. Spools of it plunged around her photogenic face and hid a swan's neck, elegant and smooth. I loved her nebulous, Eden-green eyes, which sparkled with the 'Joie de Vivre.
They were like two beryl-green jewels melted onto the snow.
Her calamine-pink lips tasted like rose petals. It surprised others that they were plump and Botox-boosted as she had a timid, shy personality.
She whispered to me in a dulcet voice as sweet as any songbird. Her voguish clothes kept captive an aroma redolent of cinnamon and meadow-fresh mint. It lingered in the room long after she had gone.
"Where is your brother?" Her dad asked in an annoyed tone.
Angela nudged her shoulder, " what does that mean?
"I don't know, dad."
"He's in bed. Go and wake him up!"
Angela got up from her chair and walked upstairs; I can't wait to get out of this hell hole."
Angela knocked on her brother's door, slowly pushing it open. His bed had been made up, the curtains were open, and the window; Angela had walked over to the window looking out; all she could see were broken trees and bins tilted over.
Where has Jack gone to? He was nowhere to be seen, Angela heard the toilet flush, and she walked over to the bathroom, "Jack, is that you?" There was no response, Jack. "Yes, it's me; who else would it be?"
Jack was facing the bathroom mirror; his shoulder-length, silky black hair looked messy.
Jack touched his neck, and the scar on his neck was still visible; he remembered that day as if it was yesterday when he and his brother Keagan were on their way to the shop; it had been raining for hours now. The steady patter of water against his raincoat faded to a dull rush in the back of his mind. The thick wool was almost soaked. He didn't know if it would ever be dry again.
They had tramped their way along the rutted, muddy trail in uncomfortable silence. It was supposed to be a full moon tonight. Not that he could tell since he was only ten years old; the clouds above stopped any light from aiding through the narrow path they walked to the shop. He had a torch in his bag-any good man does-but God knows it wouldn't light in this downpour.
A sharp gust of wind shook the trees above their heads, showering the already miserable frame with a fresh deluge. They had wiped the water from their eyes with a wet sleeve, and out of nowhere, the dark figure was approaching, his eyes widening with madness. He was carrying what looked like a blade, long, sharp, and glistening with damp red blood.
They were afraid, but there was no running; the figure was too close to them, and even though they longed to escape, their bodies felt paralyzed. He couldn't move. He couldn't shriek. He couldn't grasp. Felt hollow and numb, like a skull emptied of live flesh. The shock had wrapped around his body, battling down his throat. "It is their time to die he thought.
Feeling cold, vulnerable, scared, and soaked from the rain, there was no point in resisting. Exhaustion succumbed, and all that went through his mind as if it was just a bad dream that would end; lightning struck, lightening up the dark; Jeremy was a year older than him and tried to protect his brother by standing in front of Jack.
"Empty your pockets said the deep voice." Jeremy emptied his pockets and came across a chain he was holding onto for their mother.
"This chain doesn't belong to me. Please take everything and leave the chain." He pleaded; that's when the dark figure grabbed Jack and placed the knife blade on his throat.
"You do not want to mess with me, kid."
Jeremy handed the chain, even though there was a cut on Jack's throat from the sharp blade that pushed against it. Jack never felt it; Jeremy saw the blood dripping down his throat; Jeremy pulled out a pocket knife. Jack screamed “no” as the man hauled to Jeremy and stabbed him several times; Jack ran up to him to save his brother; when the man was about to stab Jack, two guys with pistols came running up to them. The guy saw the two men he ran as they fired shots.
The guy had disappeared into the darkness; His brother lay bleeding on the sidewalk in the rain. He was eleven years old and wore a pale blue Sunderland football shirt.
printed across the back of the shirt was a print of the number 11
He had been stabbed five minutes ago. The knife had entered the left side of his chest, tearing a wide gap in his flesh. The rain was pouring, and the pavement absorbed all the blood from his wound.
He had felt the excruciating pain as the knife plunged into his chest, then the sudden relief as the jagged blade was pulled from his body. Jeremy had heard the words, "you will be okay" he was losing a lot of blood as he saw two elderly men frantic on the phone; one guy held a cloth on the stab wounds applying pressure.
His body was on the ground, the warmth of life stolen away by death's cold embrace. Synced with the impact to the concrete floor, Jack promptly sprinted to his brother, ignoring the fatigue in his swaying legs set in from the ongoing battle. Jack was desperate to find any flickers of life or hope left in his brother but was met with cold silence broken only by the breeze gently blowing the cold air into his face. Looking up at the two men, the despaired expressions on their faces, he could tell. Jeremy was gone.
He had never felt that vulnerable and alone; at that moment, the cold air never bothered he sat on his knees, helping, endlessly crying. When he heard a siren from far, The ambulance came with aggressive speed, the kind of sheer driving audacity that let everyone know the siren wasn't a polite request to move.
The two men ran to the center of the road; as the ambulance stopped, two paramedics ran over to Jeremy, they had checked for a pulse and tried to resuscitate him, but he was long gone. It had been over half an hour since the incident.
Jack sat in silence in the rain, looking at his brother's motionless body covered in blood.
When the paramedic shook his head, Jack knew his brother was dead. That low-life scum took the chain his brother was holding onto.
He swore he would get revenge. Being at this young age and going through such trauma has affected him, causing sleepless nights and having a replay of the scene in his dreams.
"So, son, what have you been up to? Have you decided where you will study?" "Yes, dad, I was considering Harvard." "Good son, you always knew where you were heading in life." Angela's dad glanced at her as she rolled her eyes, "So young lady, it is day one. Have you decided where you will be going?" Angela nods; that's good said her dad; where have you decided to go? She wanted to say away from your sad face, bite her tongue, and give off a fake smile. "I have decided to go to campus." "The intelligent choice, young lady," said her dad. There was silence for a moment when there was a knock on the door, "who could that be here so early." said her dad; go get the door, son. Jack walked over to the door, "Hello, officer." "Good day, young lad. Is your name Jack?" "Yes," said Jack frowning, wondering how the cop knew his name, "would you mind if I ask you a few questions relating to the disappearance of Nicole?" Mr. Fox overheard the officer and stood up, "Jack does not answer
Jack was shaken by this visit and realized that Nicole's disappearance was severe. He went to their favorite hang-out spot, and they spent a lot of time by the train; one particular hang-out spot was on the roof of the train; although Nicole was no longer his priority, deep down, he still cared about her well-being. Angela heard the door downstairs opening and shutting close, she looked through the bedroom window where she saw Jack wearing a hoody with a neon dragon on the back, and she noticed the Cadillac had started to follow her brother. Angela then climbed into her old mom's old sedan and followed the Cadillac; the guy in the passenger seat was taking pictures; why were they suspecting her brother, 'well, whatever is happening, Angela needs to warn her brother. Angela took her cell phone and called her brother, he was in her eyesight, and she saw Jack taking the phone from his pocket, looking at it, and putting it back. "Dammit, Jack." Angela wanted to accelerate and overtak
"It's fine, Chloe; these assholes think they will get away with hurting you, but that is not going to happen." A friend of Joey's noticed something the other guys had not known, the guy with the gun had a dollar sign tattooed on his neck. Tom, "let it go;" Jimmy had known that Joey came from a rural area with gangsters. Joey's upbringing was not easy, having a drug addict of a father. The tattoo was more than just an ordinary tattoo; it was a rank, "these guys have been in and out of prison, and the dollar sign was a ranking of twenty-six. The number twenty-six was high ranking amongst other prisoners, indicating they do not fear returning to prison. The guy with the tattoo, who was six feet grabbed Jimmy and pushed him to the window, then removed his gun. The train stopped by the next station, and people ran out as the train reached a standstill. "Hey, man, let him go." Said Joey; the other two men, surprisingly, also had guns; Joey had noticed the tattoo of the other two guys
Angela stood up and got ready for the day ahead. Today she was leaving the house; little did everyone know she had money saved up enough money to start a new life. The money she saved she had saved up was her online sales of lingerie; Angela had been doing this since she was eleven and had a mind of an entrepreneur. Jack was Loafing around the house all day; he is due to start college next month. The disappearance of Nicole had everyone on eggshells; there were all sorts of rumors and speculations. The detective had a suspicion that Jack had something to do with it. As for his dad, he had slowly started to believe his son was hiding something, but like any other parent, he would protect his family. It had been three days; as Angela glanced out of her window, She saw the detectives opposite the road, "Jack, she shouted from her room; those detectives are still out there. Jack walked over to the window; he had seen the car parked there. "Are you sure you had nothing to do with her
"What are you telling me? How did I raise an idiot like you? I had known you had something to do with the disappearance of Nicole. Who’s idea was it to get rid of the body?" Mr. Fox rolled up his sleeves as Jack stood by the kitchen sink. “Do you realize everything I worked so hard for would be all for nothing? When they convict you, you won't see the light of day again.” Mr. Fox ran his hand over his beard, thinking as he paced up and down, "So you were not driving?" Jack shook his head; “Rick was driving;” Jack nodded, "you still never told me whose idea it was to dispose of the body." Jack looked down, "Mine, dad." Mr. Fox then walked calmly behind Jack, suddenly placed his arm over his neck, and started to choke. "dammit, you are a bigger idiot than I thought you were.” Mrs. Fox placed her hand over his shoulder. "Let go of Jack" Angela stood in shock, watching her dad's outburst, not daring to speak up, knowing her father might run up to her and start fighting with her. He
The dawn chorus is the herald of spring. It starts with a lonely, serenading minstrel, usually a blackbird. She is clear and harmonious, as fresh and sweet as the gardens she will later raid. In the neighboring tree, her saucy fanfare dares others to match their salsa song of the canopy. The competition rouses them from their slumber, opening their beaks to the heavens. The avian aria slowly becomes a fugue, bouncing through bough and bower. The lilting majesty of their song cascades into open spaces, through glassy windows, and onto the smiling lips of the dreamers within. Spring is here. What are the triggers for the comforting cannon of tree music? Is the lace of morning fog slowly receding as the months roll by? Is it the gently unfurling flowers, velour soft and receptive to warmth? Is it the baked oven smell of grass as the sun purges it of water? It is this and more. It is the world moving from iron grey to fairyland–green. It is the spools of lambs' wool hanging from straggly
“No, that can't be. It was barely a week ago when I saw my Mom; what happened to her?” Angela Questioned. She had a heart attack. It felt like the world had consumed her; everything crumbled down. For a moment, she thought its some sick prank relating to the call she had received earlier. Then her brother Jack came and took the phone. "How did this happen? Mom was healthy and fine." Jack was crying; It was midnight when she passed away. "How is dad handling it?" "He looks fine." "I wonder if he had something to do with it, that son of a.” Angela paused; what if he heard on the other end? Her brother needed her, and she would stay strong for them both, "how are you holding up? Are those detectives still trailing you?" "Yes, they are still outside," "Jack, you will have to come clean, sooner or later. Have you searched for her?" “Yes, I have; she is nowhere to be found.” "What about up the river?" "We were there also." "Who are we, Jack? Those detectives are watching you l
“What are you saying?” “You heard me loud and clear." The guy holding the knife to Jack's throat said; Jack slowly reached to the back of his leather jacket and pulled out a 9mm pistol, pointing it to the monster's head, as the four guys ran off, dropping their weapons. The Leather jacket he was wearing was the one his sister had gotten him for his birthday; after losing his mother and the girl he had once loved, fear never struck him. He walked in areas, not an average man would walk through; people had been shot and stabbed. Jack was driving through the area on his motorbike when he heard a woman screaming. For a moment, he thought it was Nicole. Jack turned to the side and saw a group of guys mugging a woman. Without hesitation, he drove up to the Alley. Thats when the man let go of the woman and approached him. "You know we charge people for driving through this neighborhood?" The guy had a dagger tattoo on his neck with