*NOTE! There are bad words, and such.*

Chapter 1

I felt so awkward standing there. No one talked to me; all I am is a by-stander. I never do anything, just waste away observing everything around me. That’s how my daily life was. I was never interesting, not too ugly or too pretty. I have never really been the talkative type, it always seemed that I was either leaving when everyone else arrived, or I had just arrived when everyone was leaving. It seemed to others I was just there- Plain old boring me. A neither short nor tall girl, with medium length dirty blond hair and pale emotionless blue eyes, the fact that no one really cared if I was here or there never really bothered me. If someone had asked me if anything would change I would of said no right away; however if there is one thing I am more of then being ‘normal’ its being wrong. My life did change, but whether it was for better or not is your own opinion. I am just here to tell you how it happened.

It all started on the day of my birth with a reoccurring dream. Sure, you are probably thinking, so what? I have dreams too, but that’s just it. You have ‘dreams’, while I on the other hand have only one. Now that I think about it, there are most likely lots, no ‘tons’ of people who keep on having the same dream over and over again. It never really occurred to me that this dream would be different, or should I say more important than most others. I will tell you that it all happened on the day my father told me, that we were moving…

It was around late August and it was rather warm that day, especially since we were living in Montana. I believe I had just arrived home after going to the store for some bread and milk. I remember it clearly, my father and sister were arguing. “I can’t believe you!” My sister shouted.

“ I don’t care what you think we are doing it!” My father yelled back.

I entered the kitchen where they had been fighting. Carefully I tried to sneak past them. “Welcome Home Terra!” My father announced.

I stopped, regreting that I had ever come home. Slowly I turned around to face the somewhat semi angry and happy faces of my family. There was my father. A man you could have sworn you’ve seen before. That’s because you probably did. My father, a Mr. Stew Markus is a failed actor. It was easy for a man, with what could be described as a black haired Brad Pitt, mixed with a soft skin, blue-eyed Jessica

Simpson to get into the business with looks alone. I know that doesn’t make much sense, but that’s how my father’s agent portrayed him.

Well anyways the biggest hit of his career, (if you can really call it that) was when he played as an extra in a gory zombie movie. Where all he did was get chased and eaten in the background, by two disgustingly dressed up extras playing as the hungry zombies. After that his career went down the drain and he was ditched by his agent. He moved to Washington, met my mom,started a family, and moved to Montana after my mom died.

She died in a car wreck about when I was two years old, so you can’t blame me for not ‘mourning’ her death very much. It was a huge pain for my father though. He blames himself for her death, and now is ‘over’ protective of my sister and me mostly of my sister, but I digress.

Standing next to him, giving me a somewhat ‘I’m gonna kill you’ look was my younger sister, Beth. A seemingly innocent girl on the outside, but the horrible truth was she is the most violent and cruel person I have ever known. Compared to me, she is the world’s most beautiful girl, with her long bleach blond hair, cut into many layers making her hair puff out a bit, but only adding more beauty to her face. Her incredible reddish pinkish eyes gave a super model like intensity to her face. She was one of the most popular students at our high school. Having received many nicknames like, ‘Sexy Beast’, ‘Bitchy girl’, or the more popular one ‘slut’. My sister sneaks out of the house all the time, and some times she doesn’t come back for days. I can’t help but worry, even thought truthfully I don’t do anything. Its something that is hi-wired into your brain at birth, to worry about your siblings. If I worry than I can only guess how my father feels. Most of the time he’ll spend hours looking for my sister, thinking she is getting mugged or raped. I too hope that doesn’t happen, but what am I suppose to do? It’s her life, if she wants to do stuff like that than it isn’t my business. Besides if it wasn’t for the fact she was my sister she would of tormented me, worse than already, years ago. You see I have never really fitted in with ‘people’ in general, but I already explained that.

“Fag, tell dad how stupid this is!”

My ‘nickname’ that Beth calls me. How charming. “Beth! I told you not to call your sister that!” My father began on the 'do not call your sister a fag' subject again, but as exspected he quickly forgotten she had ever called me that.

“It’s the best thing for you both! Moving to another state, will give you the chance for a new start!”

I stared at them both, as they continued to argue. Truth be told, they didn’t really want my opinion. My father and Beth needed someone to be one their side so that they could win. So saying my usual answer I quickly responded with a shrug. My sister pouted. “Stupid fag.”

After that I quickly began to walk to my bedroom. By the change in their fighting I could tell one thing. Father was winning. We were going to move to an unknown place, for some unknown reason.

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Over the course of two, excruciating weeks we managed to pack up all of our things, sell our house, and head to our new one. By then I had discovered we were moving in some small town in Louisiana. It took around ten days by car, especially since my dad loves to drive, he drove almost all day and night; which by the way was the most horrible thing I had to endure with driving.

When we finally reached Chalmette, Louisiana. A small city near New Orleans, with a population of a little bit over thirty thousand.

It was around midnight when we arrived to the house, and the moving truck wouldn’t be there until 11:00 in the afternoon. When Beth was complaining about how ‘crappy’ the house was I quickly grabbed my sleeping bag and went inside. Since our furniture wouldn’t be here until later we all had to sleep in sleeping bags, while dad’s little princess slept in the comfy car.

I went inside and turned on the light. The house was indeed rather pathetic, or in Beth’s terms it was a ‘shit hole’; however I was too tired to really examine the ‘new’ house, so instinctively I went to, what I thought was, a bedroom. It had a shaggy peach colored carpet, and reddish brown paint on the walls. The only thing I cared about was the fact that the ceiling light worked. Finding a spot under the window, located in the corner of the room. I laid out my sleeping bag and wiggled my way into it. Not even bothering to change my clothes, I was completely exhausted from the traumatic, and eternal drive. Before I fell asleep, I remembered my father coming in and turning off my light-then leaving, mumbling something about me being an energy waster.

Now that I think about it, I had hoped that I could truly start a new, and better life; unfortunately like I said before I am always wrong.

*how did I do? I hope it wasn't too long.*