ONE
“Honey! It’s time for school!” Mom shouts.
I look at my calendar and see that it’s May 2nd. I look down and run my finger along the blade on my favorite knife. It’s so sharp, like I could slice something right now, but I don’t. Footsteps echo along the steps and I tuck my knife under my pillow. Dad walks in, wearing his badge, and sheriff’s hat.
“Hey kiddo! Time for school, don’t make your mother upset!” Dad says cheerly, standing in my doorway.
I never particularly liked my dad for a couple of reasons. I actually hate him. For one, he’s a cop and very strict. I mean I’m 17, but that doesn’t mean that I should be held back from things all fun like parties. For two, he’s the reason I only have one friend, Cassidy. The only place I socialize is basically at school, and everyone hates me. They know everything about Colorado and what I used to do, but I’ll get revenge, especially at Ashley. For three, he accused me for burning down a house! How dare he! I’m his daughter! I would never do that. And now my parents try to make it up to me by buying me things and being happy, but it doesn’t work. They think I can forget all about it.
“Sure, Dad. I’m getting ready,” I say, quietly.
“You’re always so quiet, Zinnia. Sometimes, I can’t hear you,” my dad sighs, shaking his head, and walking out the doorway and down the stairs.
“Next time don’t accuse me of burning down a house!” I yell.
“ZINNIA. STOP. FORGET IT OKAY? MY SISTER DIED AND YOU THINK I COULD TAKE THAT LIGHTLY?” my dad yells back and I just ignore him.
Maybe I can guilt trip him into getting me a pet. I’ve always wanted one. I sigh. UGH. He always has to say something about me, always talk about me to his friends, always ME. His friends always look at me like I was the one that burned down that house back in Colorado. When I didn’t. If only they’d understand that Uncle Rico was playing with fire. I mean I think it was an accident...
“Aunt Lely, I got the daffodils planted in the backyard!” I shout, rounding the corner to the front of the house.
“Zinnia. My dear, Zinnia. Don’t step closer,” Uncle Rico smiled his crooked smile, holding a match.
“Uncle Rico! What are you doing? You’re going to burn the house down if you play with fire like that!” I laugh, walking towards him.
“I. Warned. You,” he says, flicking the match towards the house and walking to me.
"NO! AUNT LELY! SAM!” I cry out, stepping towards the house.
Before I can get even closer, Uncle Rico grabs my arm and pulls me backwards. I crawl at his arm but he holds his grip tighter and tighter. I stop for a moment and look inside his eyes, seeing the same thing I see inside my eyes, mostly at night, the joy of seeing people get hurt or hurting them. He likes to hurt people, just like me. He loosens his grip and I smile. Aunt Lely and Sam are screaming inside, for us to call 911, to do something, but we never do. Soon enough, their screams die down and my parents come to pick me up, looking at the house, burning, in horror.
“ZINNIA! RICO! WHAT IS GOING ON!” my mom screams, jumping out the car, and dialing on her phone.
“Where’s Lely? And Sam?” my dad asks in pure fear, climbing slowly out of the car.
I slowly look up at him and point to the burning house next to us and I hear the ambulance getting closer and the firetruck as well.
“Daddy. They’re DEAD,” I say.
My dad runs up to me and slaps my face so hard that it stings and I’m pretty sure it’s red and yells, “LELY WAS MY SISTER! HOW COULD YOU! SAM WAS ONLY 6 MONTHS OLD!”
I snap out of my daze and face him.
“Dad. I’m 14. How can I be capable to kill people? Uncle Rico did it. Can’t you see his face? He’s the one not me!” I snap at him.
He walks away, talking to my mom and telling her I should go to a psych ward because I killed them. He obviously didn’t believe me so that’s when I went to a psych ward for 2 years because they mistaken me for killing them. I mean I did do things like putting knives into kid’s bookbags and stabbing people with pencils but they never mentioned me going to a psych ward. Uncle Rico got arrested though, because he was the adult that should’ve “stopped me.” We moved anyways after that “incident.” And that’s why I hate my dad.
It wasn’t an accident. I see that now. Uncle Rico was crazy...but crazy like me.
"Write on a piece of paper, “Let’s play a game. If you can’t find me before I kill people A-Z, you lose. If you can, you win. It starts with Ashely.” But write it in a handwriting that isn’t yours and keep the paper in your jumpsuit pocket,” the voices tell me and I obey.
I don't know what that's supposed to mean.but I’ll listen to the voices, I’ll never disobey them. They were the ones that told me to put knives in bookbags, stab people with pencils, and most importantly, watch the house burn down. I always have to listen to them, no matter what bad things will happen. I can tell them whatever are my problems and they will help me solve them.
“Zinnia! Time for school!” mom shouts, seeming tired.
“Coming!” I shout back.
