Take Me, Please.

[Bära]

So. I have this mystery I need to write for Honors English class. I wanted to be able to get opinions on it as I write, so I thought I'd make Cindy and post her up here, along with updates to the story as I go.



FULL NAME;; Cindy Anabel Marks
NICKNAME;; -
AGE;; 16
GENDER;; female
GROUP;; emo
GRADE;; Junior
OCCUPATION;; -
SEXUAL ORIENTATION;; straight
HEIGHT;; 5'6"
WEIGHT;; 115 lbs
FACE CLAIM;; Brookelle Bones
LIKES;; the color black, metal music, root beer, cats, history, writing
DISLIKES;; rap music, spiders, the color yellow, math, preps
STRENGTHS;; grammar, spelling, memory
WEAKNESSES;; criticism, animals, dreamer
OVERALL PERSONALITY;; She is quiet and likes to keep to herself, though if you do manage to draw Cindy out of her shell she has a good sense of humor and likes to laugh. She isa dreamer and sometimes seems to be living in her own version of reality, though somewhere deep in her mind she knows she's being foolish. Cindy is gullible and trusts too easily, which tends to get her taken for granted and used. She's bullied in school and has thus retreated in on herself, thinking that she doesn't deserve to have the life she does, that she's making something out of nothing. Surely someone else has it worse than her and she's being a wuss.
OVERALL HISTORY;; Cindy's father left her mother when he found out that she was pregnant, and has never been seem or heard from again. Her mother grew to resent her child, though she didn't exactly become abusive. She turned to alcohol and drugs to calm herself and forget about her lost love and how he elft her with a child. Cindy was a good child, a happy child, though as she and her peers grew they turned on each other. Cindy holds a strong resentment for the Preps, who take everything they have for granted, and they look down on her for not fitting into their mold.

[Bära]

Descending down the stairs of the old yellow bus, my mom's words still ring in my ears. The sharp words, the veiled insults. Now school. Another day of my peers making fun of me, snickering, and somehow finding a way to make a fool out of myself. I adjust the strap to my backpack on my shoulder, keeping my dark brown eyes focused on the concrete in front of me. I look up as I near the door to find him in front of me, his gaze landing on me as he heaves it open. He pauses, waiting for me. "T-Thanks." I stutter, attempting to keep the goofy smile off of my face. I knew he wouldn't like me -ever- but since when did I ever listen to my conscience?
He nods before turning back around, coolly walking down the hallway, not even knowing how he'd just made my day. Such a simple, casual gesture could mean the world to people- but no one ever understood. I bite at my lower lip, continuing up the hallway to my first class. I walk in, shuffling quietly over to my seat at the window, setting my stuff down before finally sitting down. I run a stray hand through my black dyed hair, patting the top carefully to ensure it didn't look too bad. It was always poofy of messed up somehow, but I could always try.
I lean over to unzip my backpack, pulling out a ratty old notebook and a black lead pencil. I'd needed a new binder for a while, but didn't dare ask for one, I'd probably get yelled at for taking money for stupid stuff that could go to bills of groceries. I turn to a blank page, leaning back comfortably in my chair, crossing my legs as I stared ahead, counting down the minutes until the class started and I could get out to the next form of torture.
"Hey, Cindy." a sickly sweet voice tones and I look over. Courtney, of course, with a snickering Taylor and Sam behind her. Back up, probably. To ensure I wouldn't hit her- as if I would. I wouldn't dare get suspended or anything. Even if she hit me first, I'd probably just cower on the floor. I nod my head mutely, looking back forward.
"Why don't you ever talk to us? Think you're so superior?" Taylor chimes in, a sneer evident on her face.
"No." I reply simply, shaking my head. The trio roll their eyes in harmony and start out the classroom door, apparently losing interest in taunting me.

I stand up as the bus stops in front of my house, keeping my gaze fixed forward. People tended to leave me alone, but then there were people like Courtney and her posse. I go down the stairs before crossing to the other side of the road, checking the mail. I'd ordered a Motionless In White shirt a week ago with my mom's credit card when she'd been passed out on the couch. I pull it open. Nothing. A quiet sigh escapes my lips and I close it again before starting down the paved walk to the front of the house.
I dig my key out of the pocket of my ripped black skinny jeans, sticking it in and twisting. I step in, taking my key back out. I head back to my room, head down. My mom didn't yell anything from the living room. But, then again, she rarely did. I open the door to my room, stepping in to set my plain black book bag down on the floor. I sit down on the edge of my bed, unlacing my black converse. I stand again to exit my room, heading towards the kitchen.
I pull open the refrigerator, pulling out a root beer. I close it again before starting to head back down the hallway before something stopped me. The TV wasn't on. It was always on. A frown slips onto my mouth and I retrace my steps to peer into the living room. The sight that meets my eyes freezes me.
She lay in a puddle of crimson blood, curled in the fetal position. Her blue eyes stared unseeing into space, her mouth open as if in disbelief. I stumble forward, getting on my knees beside her. She was obviously dead, but it didn't stop me from checking for a pulse. Suddenly the phone's in my hands and I'm dialing 911.
"M-My mom. She-She's dead." I say numbly, shaking my head. I couldn't believe it. She was dead. How many times had I wished her this way? But, I now realized, I'd never truly meant it. It was something said out of anger. I'm rambling off the address, pushing my bangs out of my face as I looked down at my mother's corpse. I hang up the phone, turning without seeing from the living room. I walk out the front door and sit down on the steps, putting my head in my hands.
What was I going to do now? I didn't know my father, both my grandparent's on my mother's side was dead. I had no one to take me in, nowhere to go.

Once the cops figured out I didn't have any clue what had happened, or why anyone would want to kill my mom, they let me go back inside to get my stuff before they took my down to the station. I stuffed my backpack with my favorite band shirts and skinny jeans. I made sure to grab my iPod and phone charger and my CD case. Other than that I didn't have enough room, and it didn't really matter to me anyway.
They left me in the questioning room, and I sat in the chair, blankly staring at the wall. I still couldn't believe what had happened. I run a hand through my black hair absentmindedly, looking up as the door opened. "Someone's here to see you." the nameless cop said, ushering in a man who looked to be around my mother's age.
"Hey, Cindy. Do you remember me?" he asks, sitting down across from me. I blankly shake my head, my brow creasing.
"I'm your Dad." he says.
My mouth opens and I blink. My father? My mom told me that he'd left her when he found out that she was pregnant. But, here he was. What was this? surely this had to be a dream. My mother couldn't be dead and my father couldn't be sitting in front of me for the first time in my life.
"Do you know what happened?" he continues, smiling at me softly.
"Yeah. My mom got murdered." I reply.
"No. I mean, how your mother kicked me out. I was a drug addict, Cindy, but I'm clean now. I've tried calling, but your mother wouldn't let me talk to you."
I shake my head slightly. I wasn't ready for this. I wasn't. All my past had been a lie, how I'd come to be. No.
"I don't believe you." I state, crossing my arms over my chest.
"The cops do. I went to rehab for months." he goes on in an attempt to reason with me. "You're going to come live with me. I live just outside of town."

His house was nice. It was a little brick ranch style with a large fenced in backyard. It had a basement too, though I didn't go down there. I didn't have any reason to. My bedroom was at the end of the hall, the window facing the backyard. It had a built in bookshelf, which was pretty rad. I'd moved my few belongings in, fitting my clothes into the dresser. It was cool to be honest, the cops even let me go back to the house for my posters.
I felt bad that I didn't miss my mom more than I did. I mean, she was dead. I was never going to speak to her again. But, maybe this was my new beginning. My dad was nice, actually paid attention to me. Mom had always ignored me, yelled whenever I'd asked for something. She'd never wanted a child, so it seemed that I had pretty much ruined her life.
I'm laying on my bed, staring up at the ceiling as Devil's Night by Motionless In White played. I'd been living with Dad for a week now. He was pretty chill, and seemed willing to do anything to make me happy. It was a nice change, no matter how guilty it made me feel to say it. I was going to have to go back to school tomorrow- he'd let me take a break as the gossip calmed down a bit. I still knew it would be bad, but hopefully it would be better.
I kick my feet around to the beat, mind straying. They hadn't found the knife that had been used to stab Mom, and no prints were found. It was haunting, it really was. What if they came for me? What if they'd been coming for me but didn't know what time I'd be home, then came face to face with my mom, having to stab her instead of me in the end? Finally, a knock at my door shakes me from my thoughts. I quickly sit up and look over as my dad opened the door.
"Cindy, we're going to the store, remember?" he asks. I quickly nod and he closes the door.
I pause my CD player and swing my legs over the side of my bed, pulling my black Vans onto my feet and tying them. I straighten and move over to my piggy bank, turning it upside down in my hands to twist open the bottom. We'd be passing a Dairy Queen on the way to the store, and it'd be nice to get both me and Dad some ice cream. I pull out my twenty, brow creasing. I could have sworn that I'd had another five in there..
"Cindy?"
"Coming!" I call, placing my piggy bank back on the dresser. I stuff the bill in my pocket before running out the door.

"I'm going out to get some milk, you want anything?" my dad calls. I look away from the screen on my laptop, going over to my piggy bank. I wanted some gummy worms. I open it, looking for the two fives I had for change from the ice cream last weekend. I pull out one, shaking it for the other. It was empty.
"Uh, no, Dad, I'm fine." I reply, shaking my head. I put the five back and replace the bank from it's place, running a hand through my hair.
What was going on? This had happened twice. Surely I was just being paranoid or something completely stupid like that. No one ever visited, it was just me and.. my dad. A dad I'd only known for a little over two weeks. A sudden light bulb flicked to life over my head and I quietly open the door to my room, listening to the front door opening.
I wait, and no sound of his truck starting. But, if he was going to the store, he'd have to take his truck. His house was on the very outskirts of town, it'd take over twenty minutes to walk.
I creep down the hallway, peering out the window on the top of the front door. My dad was walking down the street, hood pulled over his head. I run through the kitchen to the back door, closing it behind me gently. I crawl into the hedges, hand running along the rough brick wall that they grew in front of. I go as fast as I dare, not wanting to make too much noise.
I peek over the top, watching as my dad stopped at a mail box. I creep along the wall, stopping within seven feet on him. I hear foot steps and I crouch to push the branches aside to watch Dad hand a manila envelope to a man.
"Is this all of it?" the strange man asks.
"Not all, I've been scrounging money together." my dad replies.
I raise my eyebrows. Scrounging as in stealing from your daughter?
"I should be charging interest, cops haven't got no clue."
"You did do good, and I got Cindy now."
"Don't see why having a brat's such a big deal." the man grunts, turning to walk away.
I stay frozen for a moment, dumbfounded. What had they been talking about? Well, Dad having me now. But.. the cops? What did the cops have to do with me? What did the cops not have a clue of?
I stop piecing things together in my mind as I realize that Dad had also started walking away. If he got home and I wasn't there..
I start off along the wall, keeping my head down. I just hoped that I wouldn't rustle the hedges too bad.
I lock the back door after me, rushing back to my room. I close the door just as I hear the front door opening.

"Cindy, it's time for dinner!" my dad calls.
I'd been laying on my bed in my room for about thirty minutes, running through what I'd seen and heard in my head. Surely it couldn't be right. Surely it had to be just some sort of figment of my imagination. I was a dreamer, always had been. But why would I come up with this? As some sort of way to decide what had happened to my mom on my own terms? No.
"Coming." I reply after a couple moments, sitting up and swinging my legs over the side of my bed. I pad over to my door to open it and walk down the hallway and into the kitchen.
"Heated up some noodles." he says, looking over as I walk in.
I nod and reach up to open a cupboard to pull out two bowls and walk over to a drawer to pull out forks before setting the bowls on the counter for him and the forks on the table. I lean against the counter, looking down at my black painted nails and picking at them. How to go about this? Well, I never was very good at subtlety.
"Uh, do you know what's happened to my money? I thought I had more than I do.." I ask, trailing off at the end and looking at my feet.
I notice him freeze before shrugging.
"I don't know, Cindy, maybe you misplaced it?" he suggests, though there was an odd note in his voice.
"Maybe." I reply with a small sigh before starting over to the fridge to pull out a soda.
I knew that I hadn't misplaced it, whenever I got money I always put it in my piggy bank. Someone had to have taken it, and Dad was the only one who was here at the house every day. It had to have been him, my money had gone missing twice now.
"Get your bowl." he says, carefully carrying his over to the table.
I walk over and grab mine before walking to the table to set it down before sitting down and grabbing my fork, bringing my lips to take a sip of my soda. I look up to find Dad looking at me before he glances down at his bowl, staring into the noodles as if they knew something he didn't.

I had a plan. I'd stay awake all night, because I mainly stayed in my room all day. Dad was probably coming in while I was sleeping, take a few bucks from my piggy bank, not think I would notice, then putting it back and leaving. Not this time. I'd catch him in the act. If he didn't come in, well, tomorrow was Saturday so I could just sleep then.

I'm laying in bed on my side, keeping my eyes open as I stared at my Motionless In White poster that I'd taped to the wall. I freeze as I hear the door creak and I bite my lower lip, closing my eyes as I listened. Footsteps padded across the wood floor before I heard a noise. The sound of my piggy bank's foot scraping across the top of the dresser. I debate on what to do. Confront him about it in the morning, or sit up and catch him red handed? Finally I hear him untwisting the bottom and I sit up, pulling the chain on my lamp.
My piggy bank crashes to the floor, my Dad's eyes wide as he stared over at me.
"You lied." I say simply, shaking my head as I brush my black dyed hair out of my face.
He doesn't speak, his eyes on me. It was obvious his mind was racing, then he straightens from him stopped position, no expression on his face. He stares at me for a while before turning and padding towards the door, stepping out and closing it behind him. I stay sitting up for a while, staring at the door. His silence unsettled me more than the fact that he was stealing from me did. I finally shake my head and reach to turn my lamp back off, laying down and snuggling into the blankets. I'd deal with it in the morning, I was about to pass out, though my mind was wide awake.

I blink my eyes open, sitting up and pushing my hair back from my face, my brown eyes finding the clock. It was almost noon. I groan and swing my legs over the side of the bed, standing and shuffling towards my door before I stop dead in my tracks, remembering what had happened last night. I turn back to look at my shattered piggy bank that was still on the hardwood floor and I shake my head. It had happened. My dad had been stealing from me, and probably to pay off some guy, perhaps the guy who had killed my mom.
I twist the doorknob and step out, shuffling down the hallway and into the kitchen, pulling open a cupboard to grab a glass. I turn as the floor creaks to see Dad, a bowl and spoon in hand as he comes in from the living room. He stares at me for a moment before crossing the tile floor to the sink to run water into his bowl and I look down at my feet, trying to think of something to say.
"How'd you sleep?" he finally asks and I raise my brown gaze to his face.
"Good.. until you woke me up." I reply, biting the inside of my lower lip.
"You know, don't you?"
"Know what? That you've been stealing money from me?"
"No.. about my debt."
"I, uh-" I start, startled. Had Dad seen me in the bushes that day? I was sure he hadn't.
"You were waiting for me last night, you klnew something was up." he goes on, and I shake my head, brown eyes wide.
"Yes! Don't argue, Cindy! You know I paid Todd to kill your mother!" he snarls, taking a step towards me and I notice the knife in his hand.
I hold my hands up, backing away in an attempt to put distance between us, but Dad grabs me by my hair and I feel the knife enter my chest and I topple to the floor, staring at the handle protruding from my chest. I weakly take it in my hands to pull it out but my vision is going fuzzy and I can barely make out the words my dad says as he turns away.
"Todd was right, I shouldn't have bothered to get Cindy."