FicWad

I lied down on the soft cushioning of the swing on my front pouch, kicking of my muddy shoes and closing my eyes. The rhythmic creak of the swing began to hum me to sleep as I swung back and forth, my brain feeling numb and worn out.
A light summer breeze posed as my blanket, carrying soothing scents of both jasmine and pine. They tickled my noses as they passed, whirling around in their entire carefree splendor on this beautiful sunny day.
The sun intoxicated the ground with its rays of heat, unforgiving to any living creature that scurried out from within its shelter. The small awning that was placed over the swing, luckily, shielded me from the radiating light, keeping me comfortable cool. Not that I would have minded a little sun.
Everything seemed perfect, and the birds noticed. They sang their usual tunes this morning, blending them into a clutter of notes that oddly enough, sounded pleasant to my weak ears.
For hours it stayed like this; just little old me and the birds, together in this place that I once called home. Who cared if the door didn’t hang strait, if the facets leaked, if the paint was chipping and if the carpets were worn, and musty. Not me, I was born here and I wanted to die here. In the only place I could ever call home, the only place I could stand to live with the guilt.
A lone tear leaked from my eye and helplessly ran down my rosy cheek before plummeting to the porch floor. As it hit the weathered wood it shattered into a million little droplets, then as fast as it had appeared it sunk in to be lost forever. As I watched this happen, I heard a steady purr of an engine make its way up the overgrown dirt path. It made its way closer, sloshing through the mud carelessly, disturbing my peace. Sending my brain into a blurred fright. Memories filled the crevasses of my being, my sore body begged for its end, not wanting to see the tragic scene again. They have replayed constantly these past few weeks, each time seeming worse then the last. Reminding me of that fateful evening which I so unfortunately escaped. I was alive and they weren’t. I will live with the guilt forever and sadly, I want to. If I don’t then I’ll forget them and I don’t want to forget them.
Car doors slammed bring me back to reality and I tried to absorb the feeling of my true home before they took me away.
I could run, but I won’t. They can have me, cause I don’t want me anymore.
They’ll throw me in a home with all the other family-less children, to be sold of to whoever is willing to pay the fee.
They’ll try to fix me, insisting that a little counseling with stop my wounds from bleeding. But my wounds have already bled out. All my blood now lay on the side of that wooded road just a round the corner from the Wilson’s house. It huddles there unforgotten as it slowly sinks into the hole of misery and demise to be lost forever. That’s were I lay now, my soul drifting around in that pool of crimson. My body, that’s here now is just a skeleton that’s there to remind my hopeless self of that tragic night.
As the footsteps thundered up the few stairs, tears began to fall. I made no movement, no sound. He spoke to me but I didn’t hear him. I didn’t try to. There pity meant nothing to me, it went in one ear and out the other. Passing through the numb abyss hidden in my skull. More of them came now, slamming their car doors and trudging there way up to the house. Some going inside to retrieve my few belongings, some making their way over to me was I lie. Their murmurs surrounded me, their sharp claws dug into my flesh as they each desperately tried to acquire their very own piece. Trying to help make things better, but unknowingly they were making things worse. The words that trickled from between their lying lips swirled around me in a blurry variation of colors that twisted into a sickening blackish-green. It seeped it way into my lungs, filling them slowly with water making it difficult to breathe.
Then it was gone.
Now, I was staring into the pale face of my good friend MaryAnn. Her beautiful emerald eyes whirled with worry, pity and sadness. She ushered me to sit up and held a bottle to my chapped lips. The cool liquid tingled as it passed my mouth and trickled down my aching throat. I let out a hoarse cough, spewing water all over myself, but I didn’t care. Looking back to MaryAnn for more water I realized she was gone and replacing her was a bulky officer who quickly picked me up and took me to a huge black SUV at the end of the driveway. MaryAnn was there, waiting by the backseat door; she opened it giving me a weak smile and climbed in. The officer that was carrying me mumbled something but it blended in with all the other voices that hummed in my head. He dodged the tilted black mailbox and slid me into the leather seat next to MaryAnn. He and MaryAnn spoke for a while so I sat there motionless, my eyes fixed on my bandaged hand that lay in my lap. I think I was almost asleep when he slammed the door and I jumped slightly. Then, I caught a glimpse of a familiar face out of the corner of my eye and I pressed my face to the tinted window. My English teacher, Mrs. Jonas, stood in front of a group of officers and waved to me before turning to the nearest officer and handing him my old, canvas backpack. They exchanged a few words before he left to get in one of the cop cars parked on the grass. I turned back to MaryAnn as our car came to life. She let out a halfhearted giggle before wrapping her tiny arms around my fragile body in a tight hug. I gave her a weak hug back before the car lurched forward sending up both into the cushioning of the seats. Her thin fingers pointed out the window and I turned to look. Outside Mrs. Jones was waving to me and her mouth was moving but I still only heard her low murmurs. I didn’t wave back, I didn’t smile but this was the happiest I had felt in the past weeks, and probably the happiest I would feel for a long while.

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Ok, this is my first story so PLEASE tell me what you think, whether it be good or bad.
Thanks,

XxscarletmoonxX