Curtis Silent Silhouettes

1. Auflage 2016
ISBN: 978-1-4835-7153-9
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 216 Seiten

A 15 year-old boy named Alexander Rore moves into a house that is home to a lot of unwanted secrets.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Curtis, Sarah

Leseproben

Chapter 1 -Alex- There are some things in life that just make you feel like you are going to have a mental breakdown. You know, like that “can the Bus of Misery please just run me over now?” kind of feeling. For example, maybe your annoying little brother is just copying every single word and action you say or do and, for whatever reason, he won’t stop. Then if you yell at him and tell him to knock it off, he has a big temper tantrum. Then their his hissy-fit annoys you even more because he is screaming bloody murder, and/or bawling his eyes out. Or maybe someone you thought was the love of your life, someone you would give anything for, unexpectedly breaks up with you, over a text message. They didn’t even have the decency to tell you in person. That’s rough, really rough, and a little inconsiderate if you will. There are so many beautiful distractions out there to drive you insane, but I feel like what recently happened to me is a chart-topper. Sometimes I feel like my parents are two-faced. When they’re around me they put on this, “Oh, look at us! We are just one big happy family! Everything is perfect” mask, but I can see behind their disguise. The reality is “Oh, this family is falling apart. We’re hanging together by one thread that’s giving away,” and you better believe that thread snapped. We are literally the opposite of the perfect family. My mother is like the staple of the house, holding us all together even though we’re ready to break. I never knew what she was holding on to. If I were her, I would’ve dumped my father faster than you could say “cheater.” My mother and father (I prefer to use the name Nathaniel because he sure is not a father, or not a good one at least) used to fight like crazy. They wouldn’t shut up. You see, the fighting was just a sprinkle to an ice cream cone compared to all the things they did to annoy me. I don’t really want to get into detail but my dad (Nathan) used to call me Alexis or Lexi in front of everyone. Everyone! Yeah, if I was a girl I wouldn’t care, but I’m a fifteen year-old boy. A boy. A male. A man. Not a girl. Like what the hell? Do I look like a girl to you Nathan? I mean I don’t even know if he did it for spite or for fun, but for real? It’s funny how he found the time to do this because he really was never around. I was sometimes tempted to file a Missing-Person’s report because he was always disappearing. When I was younger, I used to think he was a magician; one second he was here and then, abracadabra, he was gone. Magical! Let me give you a sample of what this man I call my father is really like, if you didn’t already get a taste of his true colors. This actually might be harder than I thought. You see, this man, he’s been in my life since I was born, but I don’t know him. He doesn’t know me. Sure, I know what he looks like—unfortunately—but I don’t know him. He’s never around. I guess I’ll just have to tell you my interpretation of him. Nathan, in my opinion, is just outright ugly. I’m speaking about his personality and his looks. Okay, to be honest, he’s not that bad-looking, but I just had to say that. I mean, he sort of looks like me, so lucky for him, but his atrocious character makes me want to puke. His actual looks are like a beautiful, brand-new shirt, and his personality is that obnoxious stain that destroys it. The stain ruins the shirt; his personality soils his looks. Nathan looked like a nice guy, but looks can be deceiving. One thing he could count as a blessing were his eyes. They’re my eyes. Big brown eyes that you could simply look into and get lost. They tell a story of their own. They’re a bottomless pit that you can fall into and never come out. I’m describing my eyes of course because his dirty little sockets he calls eyes make me want to jump off a cliff. I can’t stand their hidden lies. He had nice tan skin, like me, and a smile that could make you melt. I had that too. He was an average weight, muscular, but not ripped, and his hair—oh, his hair—was his most prized possession. Nathan loved his hair more than anything or anyone he knew, even more than my mother and me. (Ha. We were probably on the bottom of the list of things he loved, if we were even on there). He always wore it combed to the side, perfectly gelled, never a strand of hair out of place. A speck of hair not perfectly tucked away would be considered, to him, a bad hair day. Oh, and his attire…let me just tell you, he looked like a model straight out of a magazine. He only wore name brand apparel. Even his shoelaces were designer. He distastefully always chose to wear tight clothes. Clothes that were too tight, way too tight, and it was horrendous. I knew he was cruel, but I didn’t think he was evil enough to blind every human being in his sight. I sometimes had nightmares of his tight skinny-jeans tugging on his chicken-legs. I don’t know who he was trying to impress because I’m sure ninety-five percent of the people who saw him croaked over before falling head over heels for him. I sometimes wanted to write apology notes for all of the poor, innocent people in his presence. I guess he was trying to show off what he didn’t have. Nathan was also known as Mr. Moneybags. I mean I for one called him that. He was rich, filthy rich, but he didn’t share the wealth. My mother and I had to fend for ourselves. He just paid for the roof over our heads because it wasn’t our house; it was his house. We were just living in it. It wasn’t our car; it was his car. It wasn’t our money; it was his money. Nathan had all the things a man could dream for. He had it all. Although one thing he didn’t have was a personality. Well I guess he had one, but it sucked. It sucked real bad, so it didn’t count. If personalities were grapes, his would be a raisin—a dry, shriveled-up, sour, menace of a grape. Not to hate on raisins, I’m depicting his personality. Nathan—and I cannot stress this enough—is a no-good, despicable, naughty, pitiful little…imbecile. I could say worse, and I do, but that’s just my nicest ensemble of words to describe him. Why is he such a fool, you ask? Well, first of all, he honestly didn’t care about me whatsoever (even though my mom went out on a limb to explain how much he did love me, I could always see the clear picture, so I don’t know why she liked to waste her time), so he probably never looked at me or spent enough time with me to realize that I was his son, not his daughter, backtracking to the whole Lexi/Alexis scenario. You see, I started to become suspicious of him when I was around nine years old. I always wondered why my daddy couldn’t show up to my baseball games. I always felt like the outsider, seeing all the other boys’ fathers so proud of their little shining stars when my dad was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t just baseball games either. He missed every single chorus concert I ever had, he never went to parent meetings at the school, he didn’t show up for my fifth and eighth grade graduation, he didn’t even show up at the table for dinner, and that really hurt me. I was also one of those little boys who always had to go into the girls bathroom because I wasn’t big enough to use the men’s room all by myself, and my father never was around to take me in there himself. He was literally never around. So, like I said, I was curious, and being the little curious kid I was, I went looking for answers. One day when I was ten, my mom was out at her office, working, and I was at my friend’s house. I knew this was a good time to try and figure out what my dad did when he was all alone. I figured that maybe if my dad was never there when I was around, maybe he would be there when I was gone. Being the smart and mischievous boy I also was, I asked my friends mom if she could drive me home because I “didn’t feel good,” and after assuring her that Nathan was home, she agreed. I was then hoping to catch my father doing something sneaky around the house when he thought nobody was home, but when I walked into my living room, I was disappointed to see that he wasn’t there. Then I just remember going into the kitchen to get a snack when I heard the doorknob wobbling. I ran and stood in the kitchen entrance which gave me a full view of the door. When the door opened I saw it was my father and some blonde lady. It seemed like he was sucking the life out of her. I had never seen him kiss my mother that way. I remember thinking, Yuck, just get a room all ready. To interrupt the awkward scene I was witnessing I screeched, “What are you doing?” The way they were smooching really scared me to be honest. It was disturbing, and it still haunts me till this day. I could recall his exact response to me as if he spoke those words a minute ago. “Um, uh,” the cheater had stumbled. “What are you doing home kid?” Busting you, you jerk, I remember thinking. “This isn’t what it looks like, I promise!” I mean it looks like you’re having an affair. “Is your mother home?” Why? Are you afraid she’ll catch you cheating? Unless he was actually trying to suck the evil demon out of that discreditable...