VictoriaRae3513

Chapter One - Hero



*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*
I smack the radio's snooze to shut it up for 5 more minutes, 6:30 am. Why? Why do people think this is an acceptable time to wake up? Even more so, an acceptable time to start waking up for school. Poppycock.
My name is Victoria. I'm 11 years old. Today is December 6th, 2005. I start my normal routine, wake up, make my bed, eat breakfast, get ready for school. Ugh, 6th grade, why can't I be in high school already? I go back downstairs before going to the bus and I help the man that has taken on the role of 'father' for the last 7 years. Get him his paper, put his shoes and socks on, put on his favorite morning show, he knows and remembers how to do it himself but, I like knowing that I'm taking care of the man that took care of me for so many years after my father abandoned me at birth.
I go out to the drive way in front of our farmhouse. This house has been in our family for over 200 years. It's a duplex, my grandma and pop pop on one side and my mom, my sister and, I on the other. It's a huge house, filled with historical secrets, love, passion, death, and a lot of other shit I don't know about. Definitely haunted. I love it. It's my home, the only home I've known all my life really.
The bus comes, I get on, dredge through school, and come back home. I'm in the driveway again, something feels off. I go into my pop pops room, give him a kiss and go and do my homework so I can go on the computer. Next thing I know it's 9 o'clock PM and my grandma is yelling at me to get off the computer. See, we have dial-up so if she picked up the phone, she'd know I was online.
I head up the stairs to go to sleep, enter my room and in my room is the enterance to the attic. I always found that creepy but, I ignored it. I take out my earrings and take off my choker, I put on my PJ's and climb into bed. I start thinking of all the things that I COULD be as I drift of to sleep. In the middle of the night, I thought I heard knocking on the attic door. I decided to ignore it.
I shouldn't have.
*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*
I smack the snooze AGAIN to get 5 more minutes, yet again. It goes off again and I shut it off and drudge myself out of bed. It's December 7th, 2005. I sit up and I'm about to begin my morning routine when my mom comes banging at the door.
"WHAT?"
"I'VE SEEN YOUR ROOM AND YOU NEED TO CLEAN IT!"
"WHY CAN'T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE? IT'S FRIGGIN 6:37 IN THE MORNING! CAN WE DO THIS AFTER SCHOOL?"
"FINE BUT DON'T EXPECT ME TO HEAR YOUR EXCUSES!"
"WHATEVER I'M GETTING READY FOR SCHOOL, PLEASE JUST LEAVE ME BE!"
"FINE, BUT WHEN YOU GET HOME I EXPECT THIS ROOM TO BE SPOTLESS!"
I was so so so mad!! HOW DARE SHE?! I was trying to get up for school and she decided to ruin my day! In all of the anger I forgot to help my Pop pop with his morning ritual so my grandma had to do it. Mind you, they're 21 years apart so she gets around better being she's 61 and he's 82. I will say though, she loves him as if she were a teenager still, madly in love.
I stormed out of the house with my back pack. Got on the bus and left for another hell filled day of bullying and failure of 6th grade. Well, last period, Mrs. Martin history came around, I was counting down the minutes I could leave. Mrs. Martin was showing us a slide of something stupid.
The phone rings.
Ms. Yolan? I lift my head, "Yes.."
"Can you come here please?"
Everyone has the "ohhhhhhhhhh" you're in trouble face. I slump my way to the back of the room and ask what it is.
Mrs. Martin then informs me that our trash man and family friend Lucky, is going to pick me up.
In my head I'm thinking, "huh this is weird, what's wrong?"
The end of the day comes and I go out front and he's there.
I say, "Hey, what's wrong?"
"Just get in the truck, girl."
"Lucky.... what's wrong?" and in that moment I saw the tormented look in his eyes.
"It's Abby kid, just get in the truck please." So I got in the truck. My house was only a mile or so from the school. We got there in about three minutes. That's when I saw the police, the ambulance, the cars and trucks of my pop pops friends.
I looked at Lucky, he hung his head low. I knew then and there what had happened.
I ran inside and to my Pop pops bedroom. There he lay. Dead and cold. I ran over to him, apologizing for not helping him in the morning, for not putting his shoes and socks on, for not getting his paper, and most of all for not telling him, goodbye and I loved him before going off to school. All because I was mad at my mom for yelling at me about cleaning my room. I blamed myself that my hero was gone.