The story so far:
I woke up screaming, with the dream still implanted in my mind. With shaking hands, I reached for my bedside table. My clock read 1:30, and I smack myself in the face.
I wrestled with my dresser trying to find my uniform. "I do this every day," I said out loud, scrambling down the stairs. "She's going to kill me!"
I was in such a hurry that I almost missed the bright magenta post-it note on my backpack. She knew this would happen again, and she thought to leave me a little message. How wonderful. All I need is another lecture to make my day bright and sunny.
"Lillian," it began, "I know that its summer vacation but I still expect you to be up and moving sometime before noon. Helen hired you at the restaurant out of the goodness of her heart, and you repay her by being late every day of the week. I'm tired of begging her to spare you, honey. Responsibility is something you need to attain. Now get down to Helen's right away.”
"Will do, Mom," I replied, as though she could hear me from twenty miles away. All I ever ask of her is to stop calling me Lillian, and call me Lill like everyone else in town. But maybe she would if I'd return the favor by actually making it to work on time, the little voice inside my head retorted. Well that’s a price I'm not willing to pay.
My mother expects me to be the perfect daughter. It seems like she's trying to be two parents instead of just one. Tony Callaway was tossed in jail when I was just three years old. I barely remember him, and I try my hardest to keep it that way.
Tony went to prison for committing murder, and attempting to kill my mother. She just barely escaped with her life as a young twenty-five year old woman, and it has scarred everything she does. Even though I was just a toddler, I can tell how different she is. She became a perfectionist, and she always keeps herself busy. "Idle hands do the devils work," is what she always tells me.
My father's idle hands did the work of the devil. I feel that she wants me to be perfect so I don't turn out like him. He had a severe anger problem that he wouldn't take care of, and his rage led to the death of three innocent people. Those people were Suzette, Marcus, and Riley Callaway; my family.
Marcus was my father's brother. He was a good man who would do no wrong. Every action he took was out of pure kindness. Aunt Suzette was sweet and loving, and so was their daughter Riley. Marcus was my father's best friend, and they worked together at Callaway Hardware for six years before he snapped. As hard as I fight these memories, they pushed past the back of my mind, and I reflected on my families past.
Tony Callaway wanted everything to go the way he planned. When my uncle decided to sell the store, he felt betrayed. Marcus said it was his right; my grandfather had left the store to him in the first place. But Tony wouldn't accept that. One summer night, he went to my uncle's home. In the house was twelve-year-old Riley, home alone and sleeping in her parents’ room. Tony knew her parents weren't home yet, but the anger forced him on.
Marcus and Suzette arrived home an hour after my Tony intruded. They saw the mangled and bloody body of their beloved daughter before they saw his dark and menacing eyes. The neighbors heard a disturbance and called the police, but they were too late. They opened the closet in the master bedroom and saw the dead bodies of my aunt, uncle, and cousin.
My mother, Clarissa Callaway, knew it was Tony, and she confronted him that night after the police had called with a report. All I can remember from this is her screams as she fought for her life. She was given eight stab wounds before help reached her, almost too late.
She says I'm not ready to here the whole story. All she told me was the summary. But I'm sixteen years old, and I’m perfectly capable of handling the truth. Doe she still think I’m a child?
Or is it really that horrible?