Life was great, until it happened. Now, it's spiraling out of control. What will become of former-bully, Mackenzie, now that "killer" isn't a nickname for her tennis skills? The guilt is the only reason she's still alive. Her abusive family, ostircized at school, it's only a matter of time before the guilt isn't enough.


5. Meet the Folks!

The doorknob clicks. I realize I'm holding my breath, I let it out and step in. I try to creep past the T.V room without my parents knowing I'm home. I'm almost past when a floorboard creaks, I cringe. "Hi Mom." 

"What took you so long, you useless brat!?" She snapped. 

"Sorry, the bus was late." I say, even though I'm not late. 

"Ugh, get me something to eat, I'm hungry." She complains in her whiny voice. 

"Fine. Where's dad?" I say, finally noticing he's not there.

"At the store. Now move it!!" 

"Now move it." I mock as soon as she's out of earshot. Why can't she move it! I stay bitter the entire time I make her a P.B & J sandwich. It's like Cinderella, she's the UGLY step-mom (except, as much as I hate to say it, she is my real mom.) my brother and sister are the UGLY Step-Siblings. (Although they'll real too.) Except there's no happy ending for me. My "dad's" the only one who actually isn't related to me! My real dad left, I don't blame him one bit! I only wish he'd taken me with him. I pour a glass of orange juice to go with her stupid sandwich and bring it over, careful not to spill it.

"Faster! You snail!" she screeches, as soon as I'm in sight. I don't answer, but I quicken my pace slightly. I give her the plate with her sandwich on it and set the glass in the cup-holder. She looks at the O.J.

"Did I ask for juice?" she asks in a dangerously calm tone.

"Oh! Um-er-Sorry! I'll take it away!" I manage to squeak out. She lifts the orange juice and I put out my hand to receive it... when she splashes it in my face!!!! I gasp and sputter. She laughs her wicked laugh, which only makes me more mad! I feel the rage building up in my chest, begging to unleash its fury. Some parts of me want to pour it on her head and attack, but the practical part of me realizes it will only bring more humiliation and pain. She smiles a nasty, smug smile, knowing I won't retaliate. I hold out my hand for the glass, she gives it to me, it's almost empty, but not quite. I could just pour it on her head...

"You know, I think I'd like some orange juice! She says with a sickly sweet smile.

As I'm pouring her O.J for the SECOND time, my hair sticks to my sticky face and my thoughts drift to how nice it will be when I'm dead. I bring it to her and escape without complications. I flee to my room, my safe-ish haven.   



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