The next day, I had no choice but to go to school. My friends looked at me with concerned looks, but I tried to ignore that. We all stood around in front of the school, waiting to be let in before the first bell.
"How you doing?" Chasity asked. I shrugged.
"Did you hear?" Axel said, his eyes wide with interest.
"Hear what," Liberty said.
"The kids they took in weren't the real shooters. They had their alibis. And no one ever really saw the shooters; they were disguised or something. So that means---"
"The real shooters are still here," Crow finished. Everyone shifted uncomfortably.
"Well why don't they just do a gun search?" Raven asked.
"The shooting happened last week," Crow sighed. "And plus, they found the guns used. No fingerprints. They were wearing gloves, I guess."
"Gotta love high school..." Raven muttered. All of a sudden, there were loud shouts, and people looking at us. All of us looked around, bewildered. I fiddled with my sleeves uncomfortably.
"She did it!" someone shouted. "She's just like her parents! She shot those kids!" Others shouted agreement. Then a teacher rushed out, and grabbed my wrist. I jumped back in shock, but he had a tight grip on me.
"Come with me, Miss Fayard," he mumbled in my ear. I swallowed. Then Axel stood right next to the teacher.
"What are you doing?" he asked, shocked. "You can't do this. It wasn't her! She was right with us!"
"You can't prove that," the teacher grumbled. "Young man, move out of my way."
"We were all there!" Crow shouted at him. The teacher ignored him.
"Don't say anything, Hecate! You have the right to remain silent!" Raven shouted after me. Crow mumbled something, and she elbowed him. The teacher dragged me through the crowd, people shouting accusations at me. I ducked my head, trying to make myself disappear. They sat me in the principal's office, and did nothing until everyone was in their classrooms.
"Hecate," the principal said, sitting down. "I'm told that you were the one who shot those students." I shook my head. "I'm sorry, Hecate, I'm just trying to look over anyone that might be suspicious." There was a knock on the door, and the secretary stuck her head in.
"Her adoptive parents are here," she said.
"Let them in," the principal said. All of a sudden, Mr. and Mrs. Stueck barged in, and Mrs. Stueck was not at all happy.
"This is not fair! What would make you think that she did it?! If anything, she was the most hurt by it!" she shouted at the principal. He sat there patiently and unemotionally.
"M'am, like I told her earlier, the real shooters were not identified. I'm just interviewing anyone that may have done it."
"Well, it doesn't seem you picked her out at random," she argued. The principal pursed his lips. "Why do you think she did it?" He shifted uncomfortably, and his eyes flickered to the ground before returning to her. "Why do you think Hecate shot those kids?" she asked again.
"I believe her family history is enough," he sighed.
"We're out of here," Mrs. Stueck said. She stood up, and grabbed my wrist just like the teacher had. She dragged me through the office, the secretaries looked at us alarmed.
"Honey, please calm down," Mr. Stueck said quietly behind her. She didn't slow down until we got to the car. She muttered foul words as she threw her seatbelt on. I guess I was going home. We drove back home. Amica and Amory were still at school.
"I'm sorry, Hecate, for the way I reacted," Mrs. Stueck sighed. "It's just... not fair how people treat you. None of its your fault." I pursed my lips, and began to raise my finger towards the stairs when she nodded. "Go ahead." I hurried up to my room, and turned on the laptop that they had gotten for me, for schoolwork.
I went to Google, and took a deep breath. Then I typed in what was on my mind.
"Alexandra and Martin Fayard."
Hundreds of results popped up instantly. I clicked on the first website, which offered all the newspaper articles that had been published in town. I scanned over the headlines.
"Family brutally slaughtered. Police have no leads."
"Man murdered in alley way. Police looking for clues."
"Seventeen people killed in a week. Still no leads."
"New serial killer on rise."
"Still looking for local serial killer..."
"Deaths out of town linked to serial killer."
"Suspects of multiple deaths being checked."
"Serial killers confirmed."
"Looking for the Fayards."
"Death toll spreads in search of killers."
"Fayards found. Now in custody after shocking 203 deaths."
"Serial killers escape from prison."
There were many more articles were published while looking for my parents. I wanted to scream at the computer, they're in the apartment! It seemed as if the police were checking everywhere, except in the place they actually were. A tear rolled down my cheek as I looked over the last couple article headlines. Two hundred and three deaths. Two hundred and three lives taken. My parents actually murdered two hundred and three people...
One last article caught my attention.
"Serial killers become-- parents?!" It read. I clicked on it, opening up the entire article. I skimmed over it. "The serial killers, Alexandra and Martin Fayard, were found hiding in an apartment last week. They'd been hiding there for eight years. Most shocking of all, they had a child with them. The child was theirs. Their daughter is eight years old, and lived with them in the apartment her whole life. Ironically, they named their girl Hecate; which is a Greek goddess name. It is associated with tombs, demons, and the underworld. Her middle name is Alistrina, meaning "avenger." Their daughter was taken into custody shortly after they were found.
"Her parents were are not allowed to have any contact with their daughter. She had only various signs of physical harm; a couple bruises here and there, but they might be from bumping into things. Their apartment was almost pitch-black. She showed serious signs of emotional/mental abuse. She refused to speak, and appeared petrified in questioning. She was sent to the local orphanage." I frowned at the article. Then I noticed the author put in a side note, with his own personal feelings.
"Geez, I sure feel sorry for this kid. Hopefully she won't turn out like her parents, but who knows? The apple doesn't fall far from the tree." I slammed the laptop shut. The tears brought a stinging pain to my eyes. I couldn't read anymore. The thought of what my parents did made me sick, but what that author said made me even sicker. I set the laptop on the floor, and pulled my comforter over my eyes.
"How you doing?" Chasity asked. I shrugged.
"Did you hear?" Axel said, his eyes wide with interest.
"Hear what," Liberty said.
"The kids they took in weren't the real shooters. They had their alibis. And no one ever really saw the shooters; they were disguised or something. So that means---"
"The real shooters are still here," Crow finished. Everyone shifted uncomfortably.
"Well why don't they just do a gun search?" Raven asked.
"The shooting happened last week," Crow sighed. "And plus, they found the guns used. No fingerprints. They were wearing gloves, I guess."
"Gotta love high school..." Raven muttered. All of a sudden, there were loud shouts, and people looking at us. All of us looked around, bewildered. I fiddled with my sleeves uncomfortably.
"She did it!" someone shouted. "She's just like her parents! She shot those kids!" Others shouted agreement. Then a teacher rushed out, and grabbed my wrist. I jumped back in shock, but he had a tight grip on me.
"Come with me, Miss Fayard," he mumbled in my ear. I swallowed. Then Axel stood right next to the teacher.
"What are you doing?" he asked, shocked. "You can't do this. It wasn't her! She was right with us!"
"You can't prove that," the teacher grumbled. "Young man, move out of my way."
"We were all there!" Crow shouted at him. The teacher ignored him.
"Don't say anything, Hecate! You have the right to remain silent!" Raven shouted after me. Crow mumbled something, and she elbowed him. The teacher dragged me through the crowd, people shouting accusations at me. I ducked my head, trying to make myself disappear. They sat me in the principal's office, and did nothing until everyone was in their classrooms.
"Hecate," the principal said, sitting down. "I'm told that you were the one who shot those students." I shook my head. "I'm sorry, Hecate, I'm just trying to look over anyone that might be suspicious." There was a knock on the door, and the secretary stuck her head in.
"Her adoptive parents are here," she said.
"Let them in," the principal said. All of a sudden, Mr. and Mrs. Stueck barged in, and Mrs. Stueck was not at all happy.
"This is not fair! What would make you think that she did it?! If anything, she was the most hurt by it!" she shouted at the principal. He sat there patiently and unemotionally.
"M'am, like I told her earlier, the real shooters were not identified. I'm just interviewing anyone that may have done it."
"Well, it doesn't seem you picked her out at random," she argued. The principal pursed his lips. "Why do you think she did it?" He shifted uncomfortably, and his eyes flickered to the ground before returning to her. "Why do you think Hecate shot those kids?" she asked again.
"I believe her family history is enough," he sighed.
"We're out of here," Mrs. Stueck said. She stood up, and grabbed my wrist just like the teacher had. She dragged me through the office, the secretaries looked at us alarmed.
"Honey, please calm down," Mr. Stueck said quietly behind her. She didn't slow down until we got to the car. She muttered foul words as she threw her seatbelt on. I guess I was going home. We drove back home. Amica and Amory were still at school.
"I'm sorry, Hecate, for the way I reacted," Mrs. Stueck sighed. "It's just... not fair how people treat you. None of its your fault." I pursed my lips, and began to raise my finger towards the stairs when she nodded. "Go ahead." I hurried up to my room, and turned on the laptop that they had gotten for me, for schoolwork.
I went to Google, and took a deep breath. Then I typed in what was on my mind.
"Alexandra and Martin Fayard."
Hundreds of results popped up instantly. I clicked on the first website, which offered all the newspaper articles that had been published in town. I scanned over the headlines.
"Family brutally slaughtered. Police have no leads."
"Man murdered in alley way. Police looking for clues."
"Seventeen people killed in a week. Still no leads."
"New serial killer on rise."
"Still looking for local serial killer..."
"Deaths out of town linked to serial killer."
"Suspects of multiple deaths being checked."
"Serial killers confirmed."
"Looking for the Fayards."
"Death toll spreads in search of killers."
"Fayards found. Now in custody after shocking 203 deaths."
"Serial killers escape from prison."
There were many more articles were published while looking for my parents. I wanted to scream at the computer, they're in the apartment! It seemed as if the police were checking everywhere, except in the place they actually were. A tear rolled down my cheek as I looked over the last couple article headlines. Two hundred and three deaths. Two hundred and three lives taken. My parents actually murdered two hundred and three people...
One last article caught my attention.
"Serial killers become-- parents?!" It read. I clicked on it, opening up the entire article. I skimmed over it. "The serial killers, Alexandra and Martin Fayard, were found hiding in an apartment last week. They'd been hiding there for eight years. Most shocking of all, they had a child with them. The child was theirs. Their daughter is eight years old, and lived with them in the apartment her whole life. Ironically, they named their girl Hecate; which is a Greek goddess name. It is associated with tombs, demons, and the underworld. Her middle name is Alistrina, meaning "avenger." Their daughter was taken into custody shortly after they were found.
"Her parents were are not allowed to have any contact with their daughter. She had only various signs of physical harm; a couple bruises here and there, but they might be from bumping into things. Their apartment was almost pitch-black. She showed serious signs of emotional/mental abuse. She refused to speak, and appeared petrified in questioning. She was sent to the local orphanage." I frowned at the article. Then I noticed the author put in a side note, with his own personal feelings.
"Geez, I sure feel sorry for this kid. Hopefully she won't turn out like her parents, but who knows? The apple doesn't fall far from the tree." I slammed the laptop shut. The tears brought a stinging pain to my eyes. I couldn't read anymore. The thought of what my parents did made me sick, but what that author said made me even sicker. I set the laptop on the floor, and pulled my comforter over my eyes.
Love you forever is about a girl who lives in a town, and has a few friends, she is every teachers "Perfect Student". A new boy and his sister move to town, and they fall in love. her father doesnt approve of the boy. the girl and boy plan to run away 2gether with his sister and her boyfriend. but her father makes her move towns. she is forced 2 go 2 a all girls school, she is lost and alone, so she turns 2 suicide. the boy and his sister find her and they take her out of school and run away 2gether and promise to love each other forever. but her father finds out and shoots the boy, the girl is in pain and so is his sister so they run away from their lives and live new ones, under false identities, until her father finds her and kills both of them. (btw the father is crazy)
ok so now i need ur opinions. is it 2 borin, or does it have a chance...
please tell me your true opinions.
ok so now i need ur opinions. is it 2 borin, or does it have a chance...
please tell me your true opinions.
im so sick.
im sick of everything about you.
i hate what you say,
what you do,
everything.
it sets off some spark,
that just angers me inside and out.
im so sick.
im sick of your laugh,
your smile,
your eyes,
everything.
i hate how you talk to me,
how you treat me,
what you think of me as.
im not your toy,
im not your anything.
i dont belong to you,
im not a possession.
im just me.
and im so sick.
sick of everything in this godforsaken world.
especially you.
and i dont want to be something
that hates and is sick
of everything.
im just sick of you.
and honestly...
i dont want to be with you
anymore.
im so sick.
im sick of everything about you.
i hate what you say,
what you do,
everything.
it sets off some spark,
that just angers me inside and out.
im so sick.
im sick of your laugh,
your smile,
your eyes,
everything.
i hate how you talk to me,
how you treat me,
what you think of me as.
im not your toy,
im not your anything.
i dont belong to you,
im not a possession.
im just me.
and im so sick.
sick of everything in this godforsaken world.
especially you.
and i dont want to be something
that hates and is sick
of everything.
im just sick of you.
and honestly...
i dont want to be with you
anymore.
im so sick.
i cant take any more
of these drugs.
the poison,
attacking at my veins,
fire spreading through,
cant breathe.
but i need these,
and i must feel this
in order to get better.
no matter what it takes,
i have to get over you.
and even if this is
the most irrational way
to get over you,
i still intend on doing this.
i dont care how many needles
i must pierce through my arms,
how many seizures i must suffer through,
whatever it takes.
im going to do my best
to forget you even exist.
i dont care how much cocaine i snuff,
how many pills i take,
how many cuts
slice through my skin,
or even if i end up
killing myself in the process.
i would be so lucky.
so,whatever it takes
to get over you
is the extreme
im going to have to
accomplish.
i dont care if i live,
i dont care if i die,
i dont care if all of this
is even real or not.
im just going to do
whatever it takes
to get you out of my mind.
even if i die...
of these drugs.
the poison,
attacking at my veins,
fire spreading through,
cant breathe.
but i need these,
and i must feel this
in order to get better.
no matter what it takes,
i have to get over you.
and even if this is
the most irrational way
to get over you,
i still intend on doing this.
i dont care how many needles
i must pierce through my arms,
how many seizures i must suffer through,
whatever it takes.
im going to do my best
to forget you even exist.
i dont care how much cocaine i snuff,
how many pills i take,
how many cuts
slice through my skin,
or even if i end up
killing myself in the process.
i would be so lucky.
so,whatever it takes
to get over you
is the extreme
im going to have to
accomplish.
i dont care if i live,
i dont care if i die,
i dont care if all of this
is even real or not.
im just going to do
whatever it takes
to get you out of my mind.
even if i die...
Once upon a time There was a girl named Abby. She loved to talk. Her teachers eventually stopped calling on her.
One day, she talked during a fire while a kid in her class was telling her teacher where the 17 other children were.
The teacher couldn't here her, and the search for the children lasted twelve hours. During that time, a gang stole five computers, three cars, seventeen dogs, and blackmailed the mayor into giving them seven grand.
Abby was expelled from the school.
When she told her parents, they imediately looked for a school for her to go to.
But the only school that gave her acceptence was the class in the juvinille deliquent center.
So she was home schooled.
But she caused her parents so much trouble that in a week they lost their all hair and were standing on the thin line between sanity and the nut house.
So they duct-taped her mouth shut.
THE END
One day, she talked during a fire while a kid in her class was telling her teacher where the 17 other children were.
The teacher couldn't here her, and the search for the children lasted twelve hours. During that time, a gang stole five computers, three cars, seventeen dogs, and blackmailed the mayor into giving them seven grand.
Abby was expelled from the school.
When she told her parents, they imediately looked for a school for her to go to.
But the only school that gave her acceptence was the class in the juvinille deliquent center.
So she was home schooled.
But she caused her parents so much trouble that in a week they lost their all hair and were standing on the thin line between sanity and the nut house.
So they duct-taped her mouth shut.
THE END
As I grow to think about it more and more, and understand it more and more, I see that, as the saying goes, life is like a game of chess. But I have made my own saying up, which seems more true to me. Life is like a venture into the unknown. You never know what might await you next, more dangers, or even happy successes. But one thing is for certain, you cannot always be happy, or always be depressed. Life is like a mountain. You climb it, face all the challenges life brings you. You dump and break up, you win and make up. Things happen. You can't control it most of the time. So never blame yourself for bad things that happened to you in life. Life gets confusing a lot. But I still strive to reach my goals. Without goals, I would be like a broken-winged bird that could not fly. I would be aimless. I would not become better, build my character. Life is like a venture into the unknown, and I believe that to be true. So true.
I know I asked for too much before
I know I deserved for you to walk out the door
But you didn’t need to give it away
I promise you I’ll give it a try
You don’t have to buy my love
You don’t need to give so much
I know I asked for a lot, never seemed satisfied
The word want makes me needy
Cause you don’t have to buy my love
Wants have become a trigger
I’ll put your white string around my finger
Shouldn’t have asked
I never should’ve asked
You shouldn’t be buying love,
Don’t give it all away to me
I hope you finally see
That wanting from you makes me feel
You shouldn’t buy my love
I know I deserved for you to walk out the door
But you didn’t need to give it away
I promise you I’ll give it a try
You don’t have to buy my love
You don’t need to give so much
I know I asked for a lot, never seemed satisfied
The word want makes me needy
Cause you don’t have to buy my love
Wants have become a trigger
I’ll put your white string around my finger
Shouldn’t have asked
I never should’ve asked
You shouldn’t be buying love,
Don’t give it all away to me
I hope you finally see
That wanting from you makes me feel
You shouldn’t buy my love