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Rated: ASR · Short Story · Dark · #2064417
No one ever knows what is really going on in a person's life.
Hearing the quarrel, the other two men race up the stairs, one of them sees Franklin and reaches under his shirt to reveal a revolver. Rebecca perceives the weapon and unleashes a blood curdling scream, warning her father, and involuntarily notifying her mother to hold her back.

Rebecca Moore ditched school for an entire week except for the last two periods on Friday. She arrived at school dressed in a long black simple strapless black dress, with plain black boots, and a black sweater. She was quiet, even when the teacher called on her to come up to the board in front of the class and solve the algebraic equation. As she reached up to write on the board, her sleeves raised up her arm, revealing marks. Kacey, who sat in the front row, noticed the marks; she did not get a decent glance but for the next two classes she spread rumors across school that Rebecca missed school because she cut herself and was in the hospital. The entire school badgered her and belittled her about being “emo”; Rebecca did not say a word about the bullying. She did not stand up. She did not do anything about it, she just took it. That day after school she did not go home like she normally did, she went to a nearby gas station to purchase a bouquet of flowers. With her book bag on her back, and the flowers in her hand, she walked seventeen blocks, alone, to a graveyard. She continued through the graveyard until she broke down bawling into her hands in front of a gravestone that read:
Franklin Moore
Born 5/16/68
Died 12/05/13
Franklin was her father. Over the weekend, Saturday night, while everyone at her house was asleep, three burglars broke into her house. Rebecca awoke to rustling down stair; so she quietly tiptoed to her parents’ bedroom, but mistakenly knocked over a lamp in the hallway, shattering it. She heard a man’s voice coming from down stairs, “They’re awake!” Terrified Rebecca ran over to her parents’ bedroom and screamed for them to wake up only to have one of the men grabbed her from behind and covers her mouth with an unusually scented handkerchief. Seconds later, Rebecca’s father had awoken to see his little girl struggling for her life. He instantly woke up screaming, “Get away from my baby girl!” and punches him square on the nose. Hearing the quarrel, the other two men race up the stairs; one of them sees Franklin and reaches under his shirt to reveal a revolver. Rebecca perceives the weapon and unleashes a blood curdling scream, warning her father, and involuntarily notifying her mother to hold her back. Three ear-pounding noises ring through their ears as Franklin falls to the ground. All three shots blow directly through Franklin and are stopped in the wall. The third man reaches in his back pocket, pulling out a bunch of rope. The three men tie the two frighten women up, and threaten “If both of you ever tell anyone about this, we will come back and make you girlies wish you were like him,” one man pointing at Rebecca’s corpse of a father, an another wiping Rebecca’s tears away with a mocking manner.
As she sat at her father’s grave sobbing, she heard a branch brake behind her. She was about to see who was watching her cry, when she felt a sudden sharp pain in the right side of her lower back. Rebecca fell to the ground in pain, and could feel something warm and wet streaming down into a pool around her. Pulling her arm out from under her, she saw that the mysterious substance was red, blood. With her vision getting blurry she could faintly make out the figure that shot her. It was the same man from Saturday! The man left her as she lain, and she slowly blacked out from blood lost. Eventually Rebecca died, on her own father’s gravesite, almost one week away from his death.
Rebecca missed school because she was helping her mother. She was late and was wearing all black because her father’s funeral was that day. The marks on her arms were not cuts but rope burns. Rebecca’s funeral was congested, because everyone from school showed up; one thought that Rebecca’s last day would be that day, and would be filled with so much hatred, sorrow, pain, and false rumors.
© Copyright 2015 Ally Hart (allytheweirdo at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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