The siguiente day, I had no choice but to go to school. My friends looked at me with concerned looks, but I tried to ignore that. We all stood around in front of the school, waiting to be let in before the first bell.
"How tu doing?" Chasity asked. I shrugged.
"Did tu hear?" Axel said, his eyes wide with interest.
"Hear what," Liberty said.
"The kids they took in weren't the real shooters. They had their alibis. And no one ever really saw the shooters; they were disguised o something. So that means---"
"The real shooters are still here," cuervo finished. Everyone shifted uncomfortably.
"Well why don't they just do a gun search?" Raven asked.
"The shooting happened last week," cuervo sighed. "And plus, they found the pistolas used. No fingerprints. They were wearing gloves, I guess."
"Gotta amor high school..." Raven muttered. All of a sudden, there were loud shouts, and people looking at us. All of us looked around, bewildered. I fiddled with my sleeves uncomfortably.
"She did it!" someone shouted. "She's just like her parents! She shot those kids!" Others shouted agreement. Then a teacher rushed out, and grabbed my wrist. I jumped back in shock, but he had a tight grip on me.
"Come with me, Miss Fayard," he mumbled in my ear. I swallowed. Then Axel stood right siguiente to the teacher.
"What are tu doing?" he asked, shocked. "You can't do this. It wasn't her! She was right with us!"
"You can't prove that," the teacher grumbled. "Young man, mover out of my way."
"We were all there!" cuervo shouted at him. The teacher ignored him.
"Don't say anything, Hecate! tu have the right to remain silent!" Raven shouted after me. cuervo mumbled something, and she elbowed him. The teacher dragged me through the crowd, people shouting accusations at me. I ducked my head, trying to make myself disappear. They sat me in the principal's office, and did nothing until everyone was in their classrooms.
"Hecate," the principal said, sitting down. "I'm told that tu were the one who shot those students." I shook my head. "I'm sorry, Hecate, I'm just trying to look over anyone that might be suspicious." There was a knock on the door, and the secretary stuck her head in.
"Her adoptive parents are here," she said.
"Let them in," the principal said. All of a sudden, Mr. and Mrs. Stueck barged in, and Mrs. Stueck was not at all happy.
"This is not fair! What would make tu think that she did it?! If anything, she was the most hurt por it!" she shouted at the principal. He sat there patiently and unemotionally.
"M'am, like I told her earlier, the real shooters were not identified. I'm just interviewing anyone that may have done it."
"Well, it doesn't seem tu picked her out at random," she argued. The principal pursed his lips. "Why do tu think she did it?" He shifted uncomfortably, and his eyes flickered to the ground before returning to her. "Why do tu think Hecate shot those kids?" she asked again.
"I believe her family history is enough," he sighed.
"We're out of here," Mrs. Stueck said. She stood up, and grabbed my wrist just like the teacher had. She dragged me through the office, the secretaries looked at us alarmed.
"Honey, please calm down," Mr. Stueck dicho quietly behind her. She didn't slow down until we got to the car. She muttered foul words as she threw her seatbelt on. I guess I was going home. We drove back home. Amica and Amory were still at school.
"I'm sorry, Hecate, for the way I reacted," Mrs. Stueck sighed. "It's just... not fair how people treat you. None of its your fault." I pursed my lips, and began to raise my finger towards the stairs when she nodded. "Go ahead." I hurried up to my room, and turned on the laptop that they had gotten for me, for schoolwork.
I went to Google, and took a deep breath. Then I typed in what was on my mind.
"Alexandra and Martin Fayard."
Hundreds of results popped up instantly. I clicked on the first website, which offered all the newspaper artículos that had been published in town. I scanned over the headlines.
"Family brutally slaughtered. Police have no leads."
"Man murdered in alley way. Police looking for clues."
"Seventeen people killed in a week. Still no leads."
"New serial killer on rise."
"Still looking for local serial killer..."
"Deaths out of town linked to serial killer."
"Suspects of multiple deaths being checked."
"Serial killers confirmed."
"Looking for the Fayards."
"Death toll spreads in buscar of killers."
"Fayards found. Now in custody after shocking 203 deaths."
"Serial killers escape from prison."
There were many más artículos were published while looking for my parents. I wanted to scream at the computer, they're in the apartment! It seemed as if the police were checking everywhere, except in the place they actually were. A tear rolled down my cheek as I looked over the last couple articulo headlines. Two hundred and three deaths. Two hundred and three lives taken. My parents actually murdered two hundred and three people...
One last articulo caught my attention.
"Serial killers become-- parents?!" It read. I clicked on it, opening up the entire article. I skimmed over it. "The serial killers, Alexandra and Martin Fayard, were found hiding in an apartment last week. They'd been hiding there for eight years. Most shocking of all, they had a child with them. The child was theirs. Their daughter is eight years old, and lived with them in the apartment her whole life. Ironically, they named their girl Hecate; which is a Greek goddess name. It is associated with tombs, demons, and the underworld. Her middle name is Alistrina, meaning "avenger." Their daughter was taken into custody shortly after they were found.
"Her parents were are not allowed to have any contact with their daughter. She had only various signs of physical harm; a couple bruises here and there, but they might be from bumping into things. Their apartment was almost pitch-black. She showed serious signs of emotional/mental abuse. She refused to speak, and appeared petrified in questioning. She was sent to the local orphanage." I frowned at the article. Then I noticed the autor put in a side note, with his own personal feelings.
"Geez, I sure feel sorry for this kid. Hopefully she won't turn out like her parents, but who knows? The manzana, apple doesn't fall far from the tree." I slammed the laptop shut. The tears brought a stinging pain to my eyes. I couldn't read anymore. The thought of what my parents did made me sick, but what that autor dicho made me even sicker. I set the laptop on the floor, and pulled my comforter over my eyes.
"How tu doing?" Chasity asked. I shrugged.
"Did tu hear?" Axel said, his eyes wide with interest.
"Hear what," Liberty said.
"The kids they took in weren't the real shooters. They had their alibis. And no one ever really saw the shooters; they were disguised o something. So that means---"
"The real shooters are still here," cuervo finished. Everyone shifted uncomfortably.
"Well why don't they just do a gun search?" Raven asked.
"The shooting happened last week," cuervo sighed. "And plus, they found the pistolas used. No fingerprints. They were wearing gloves, I guess."
"Gotta amor high school..." Raven muttered. All of a sudden, there were loud shouts, and people looking at us. All of us looked around, bewildered. I fiddled with my sleeves uncomfortably.
"She did it!" someone shouted. "She's just like her parents! She shot those kids!" Others shouted agreement. Then a teacher rushed out, and grabbed my wrist. I jumped back in shock, but he had a tight grip on me.
"Come with me, Miss Fayard," he mumbled in my ear. I swallowed. Then Axel stood right siguiente to the teacher.
"What are tu doing?" he asked, shocked. "You can't do this. It wasn't her! She was right with us!"
"You can't prove that," the teacher grumbled. "Young man, mover out of my way."
"We were all there!" cuervo shouted at him. The teacher ignored him.
"Don't say anything, Hecate! tu have the right to remain silent!" Raven shouted after me. cuervo mumbled something, and she elbowed him. The teacher dragged me through the crowd, people shouting accusations at me. I ducked my head, trying to make myself disappear. They sat me in the principal's office, and did nothing until everyone was in their classrooms.
"Hecate," the principal said, sitting down. "I'm told that tu were the one who shot those students." I shook my head. "I'm sorry, Hecate, I'm just trying to look over anyone that might be suspicious." There was a knock on the door, and the secretary stuck her head in.
"Her adoptive parents are here," she said.
"Let them in," the principal said. All of a sudden, Mr. and Mrs. Stueck barged in, and Mrs. Stueck was not at all happy.
"This is not fair! What would make tu think that she did it?! If anything, she was the most hurt por it!" she shouted at the principal. He sat there patiently and unemotionally.
"M'am, like I told her earlier, the real shooters were not identified. I'm just interviewing anyone that may have done it."
"Well, it doesn't seem tu picked her out at random," she argued. The principal pursed his lips. "Why do tu think she did it?" He shifted uncomfortably, and his eyes flickered to the ground before returning to her. "Why do tu think Hecate shot those kids?" she asked again.
"I believe her family history is enough," he sighed.
"We're out of here," Mrs. Stueck said. She stood up, and grabbed my wrist just like the teacher had. She dragged me through the office, the secretaries looked at us alarmed.
"Honey, please calm down," Mr. Stueck dicho quietly behind her. She didn't slow down until we got to the car. She muttered foul words as she threw her seatbelt on. I guess I was going home. We drove back home. Amica and Amory were still at school.
"I'm sorry, Hecate, for the way I reacted," Mrs. Stueck sighed. "It's just... not fair how people treat you. None of its your fault." I pursed my lips, and began to raise my finger towards the stairs when she nodded. "Go ahead." I hurried up to my room, and turned on the laptop that they had gotten for me, for schoolwork.
I went to Google, and took a deep breath. Then I typed in what was on my mind.
"Alexandra and Martin Fayard."
Hundreds of results popped up instantly. I clicked on the first website, which offered all the newspaper artículos that had been published in town. I scanned over the headlines.
"Family brutally slaughtered. Police have no leads."
"Man murdered in alley way. Police looking for clues."
"Seventeen people killed in a week. Still no leads."
"New serial killer on rise."
"Still looking for local serial killer..."
"Deaths out of town linked to serial killer."
"Suspects of multiple deaths being checked."
"Serial killers confirmed."
"Looking for the Fayards."
"Death toll spreads in buscar of killers."
"Fayards found. Now in custody after shocking 203 deaths."
"Serial killers escape from prison."
There were many más artículos were published while looking for my parents. I wanted to scream at the computer, they're in the apartment! It seemed as if the police were checking everywhere, except in the place they actually were. A tear rolled down my cheek as I looked over the last couple articulo headlines. Two hundred and three deaths. Two hundred and three lives taken. My parents actually murdered two hundred and three people...
One last articulo caught my attention.
"Serial killers become-- parents?!" It read. I clicked on it, opening up the entire article. I skimmed over it. "The serial killers, Alexandra and Martin Fayard, were found hiding in an apartment last week. They'd been hiding there for eight years. Most shocking of all, they had a child with them. The child was theirs. Their daughter is eight years old, and lived with them in the apartment her whole life. Ironically, they named their girl Hecate; which is a Greek goddess name. It is associated with tombs, demons, and the underworld. Her middle name is Alistrina, meaning "avenger." Their daughter was taken into custody shortly after they were found.
"Her parents were are not allowed to have any contact with their daughter. She had only various signs of physical harm; a couple bruises here and there, but they might be from bumping into things. Their apartment was almost pitch-black. She showed serious signs of emotional/mental abuse. She refused to speak, and appeared petrified in questioning. She was sent to the local orphanage." I frowned at the article. Then I noticed the autor put in a side note, with his own personal feelings.
"Geez, I sure feel sorry for this kid. Hopefully she won't turn out like her parents, but who knows? The manzana, apple doesn't fall far from the tree." I slammed the laptop shut. The tears brought a stinging pain to my eyes. I couldn't read anymore. The thought of what my parents did made me sick, but what that autor dicho made me even sicker. I set the laptop on the floor, and pulled my comforter over my eyes.
On a foggy día ,
Following the light ,
Running far away .
There was a little car ,
Driven por two children ,
Made out of plastic and gum ,
With a fake license number .
And the car was the product
Of one’s imagination,
It was the guide through the forest
Of his life’s interpretation.
And the forest was dark
And hunted por lobos ,
Full of tears and pain
And of smiles went to vain.
And this kid was an orphan,
Slowly rushing through life ,
Searching for his mother ,
Waiting to be held tight.
He is lost and scared ,
Yet unstoppable ,
Cause all his life he’s spent
Walking through that forest.
We ain’t all lucky and rich
o have families.
The truth is we only have ourselves,
To make our own journies.
This orphan’s an example
For those who don’t know ,
That that forest is the rode
We all have to go on .
1st Person = I, we, me, us, my, mine, our, ours. 2nd Person = you, your, yours. 3rd Person = he, she, it, they, him, her, it, them, his, her, hers, it, their, theirs.
First person escritura is when the characters is speaking directly toward another person(You). tu use words like "I", "Mine", "We", "Us." The character is telling the story to tu themselves.
Second Person
Third person is the exact opposite. Instead of the character talking to you, the narrator is talking about the character. Your main words are "You", and "Your."
Third Person
Third person is almost similar to segundo person. The narrator is talking to you, but instead they use words like "He", "She", "It", and "They." Third person libros often have the most detail.
For más detailed descriptions, go to: link
this my poem...I just wrote it randomly...Don't know if it's any good...what do tu think?
--------------------------------------------------
If tu amor him,
Tell him so.
If tu amor him,
Tell him not to go.
The very worst,
He can do,
The very worst,
He can do is say no.
Don’t hide away,
Wishing all day,
Don’t hide away,
Just come out and say.
“Yes, I amor you,
I’ve told tu so.
And if tu amor me,
Please don’t go.”
“Yes, I amor you,
I’ve told tu so.
And if tu amor me,
Please don’t go.”
“Please, please,
Please don’t go.
Please, please.
Please, please don’t go.”
So, if tu amor him,
Tell him so.
If tu amor him,
Tell him not to go.
The very worst,
He can do,
The very worst,
He can do is say no.
--------------------------------------------------
If tu amor him,
Tell him so.
If tu amor him,
Tell him not to go.
The very worst,
He can do,
The very worst,
He can do is say no.
Don’t hide away,
Wishing all day,
Don’t hide away,
Just come out and say.
“Yes, I amor you,
I’ve told tu so.
And if tu amor me,
Please don’t go.”
“Yes, I amor you,
I’ve told tu so.
And if tu amor me,
Please don’t go.”
“Please, please,
Please don’t go.
Please, please.
Please, please don’t go.”
So, if tu amor him,
Tell him so.
If tu amor him,
Tell him not to go.
The very worst,
He can do,
The very worst,
He can do is say no.
Little raindrops shiny,silver,
Dropping silently into the river.
A girl sitting quiet,alone,
Her smile is fading,her hope is gone.
It faded really long ago,
That sounds sad,i know.
She quickly wipes away a tear,
It's her secret so no one can hear.
She secretly cries every night,
It's her fate,so she cant fight.
She touches a raindrop and goes back inside,
She is so lost,she's losing her pride.
All she asks for is a friend,
Someone to be there and understand.
So help her to make her dream come true,
There's always something tu can do.
Dropping silently into the river.
A girl sitting quiet,alone,
Her smile is fading,her hope is gone.
It faded really long ago,
That sounds sad,i know.
She quickly wipes away a tear,
It's her secret so no one can hear.
She secretly cries every night,
It's her fate,so she cant fight.
She touches a raindrop and goes back inside,
She is so lost,she's losing her pride.
All she asks for is a friend,
Someone to be there and understand.
So help her to make her dream come true,
There's always something tu can do.
what I'm escritura isn't exactly an articulo , but I hope tu will enjoy it ^_^ ..
Girl; Do I ever cruzar, cruz you'r mind ?
Boy; No .
Girl; Do tu like me ?
Boy; No .
Girl; Do tu want me ?
Boy; No .
Girl; Would tu cry if I left ?
Boy; No .
Girl; Would tu live for me ?
Boy; No .
Girl; Would tu do anything for me ?
Boy; No .
Girl; Choose me o you'r life ?
Boy; My life .
The girl runs away in shock and pain and the boy runs after her and says ....
*The reason tu never cruzar, cruz my mind is because tu are always on my mind .
*The reason why I don't like tu is because I amor tu .
*The reason I don't want tu is because I need tu .
*The reason I wouldn't cry if tu left is because I would die if tu left .
*The reason I wouldn't live for tu is because I would die for tu .
*The reason why I'm not willing to do tu anything for tu is because I would do everything for tu .
*The reason I chose my life is because tu are my life .
Girl; Do I ever cruzar, cruz you'r mind ?
Boy; No .
Girl; Do tu like me ?
Boy; No .
Girl; Do tu want me ?
Boy; No .
Girl; Would tu cry if I left ?
Boy; No .
Girl; Would tu live for me ?
Boy; No .
Girl; Would tu do anything for me ?
Boy; No .
Girl; Choose me o you'r life ?
Boy; My life .
The girl runs away in shock and pain and the boy runs after her and says ....
*The reason tu never cruzar, cruz my mind is because tu are always on my mind .
*The reason why I don't like tu is because I amor tu .
*The reason I don't want tu is because I need tu .
*The reason I wouldn't cry if tu left is because I would die if tu left .
*The reason I wouldn't live for tu is because I would die for tu .
*The reason why I'm not willing to do tu anything for tu is because I would do everything for tu .
*The reason I chose my life is because tu are my life .
inch por inch
bringing me closer
to my doom
mariposas of
anticipation
flutter nervously
in my stomach
knuckles whiten
jaws clench
what have I
gotten myself into
the suspense
is killing me
I'm going to hate it
I'm going to amor it
I might lose my lunch
but I don't care
heaven help me
here it comes...
...
I hold my breath...
...
and then
I scream
my stomach
drops
my breath
is stolen
my heart
is pounding
adrenaline
courses
through
my veins
amid screams
of sweet terror
I fling up
my hands
and ride on
the wings
of Thrill!
I remember the día I fell in love.
Not just simple love.
No, this was head over heels, I'd die for tu love.
I remember where I fell in love.
A small middle school in a small town.
A place tu could easily miss.
I remember the my matchmaker.
A short women, but with más fuego then tu could ever imagine.
más passion for what she does then I had ever seen.
I remember my girlfriends who were with me.
My athletic, sassy, fun-loving chicks.
My flirting consultants.
I remember him.
Good God, he was beautiful.
Yes, I remember the día I fell in love.
True Love.
Head over heels love.
With..................
Basketball.
--------------------------------
This is dedicated to my first real baloncesto coach. She taught me not just how to play basketball, but how to be part of a team. I have so much respect for her and I know I should thank her everyday for helping me fall in love. For Coach Joy.
Not just simple love.
No, this was head over heels, I'd die for tu love.
I remember where I fell in love.
A small middle school in a small town.
A place tu could easily miss.
I remember the my matchmaker.
A short women, but with más fuego then tu could ever imagine.
más passion for what she does then I had ever seen.
I remember my girlfriends who were with me.
My athletic, sassy, fun-loving chicks.
My flirting consultants.
I remember him.
Good God, he was beautiful.
Yes, I remember the día I fell in love.
True Love.
Head over heels love.
With..................
Basketball.
--------------------------------
This is dedicated to my first real baloncesto coach. She taught me not just how to play basketball, but how to be part of a team. I have so much respect for her and I know I should thank her everyday for helping me fall in love. For Coach Joy.
Just a poem. I hope it isn't much of a bother to rate.
I dream of all things
Uncertain of dark deeds and pasts
Within these thoughts as dark as sea
When once those wings of black
Hung over all
Shadowing but of the wretched white
That blinds me of all beauty.
I dream of all things
From happiness to highs
Let down these pills
o I’m gone, retreat inside my mind
Where none but the darkest thoughts
Swallowing twilight
I dream of all things
From the stories told por hidden scars
Unable to mostrar themselves
Under this intense scrutiny
That makes up this world’s attire
To the times that I could be happy
Without a drug to create
The much-needed illusion...
I dream of all things
No matter of their contents
Because, well,
Nightmares are still dreams.
I dream of all things
Uncertain of dark deeds and pasts
Within these thoughts as dark as sea
When once those wings of black
Hung over all
Shadowing but of the wretched white
That blinds me of all beauty.
I dream of all things
From happiness to highs
Let down these pills
o I’m gone, retreat inside my mind
Where none but the darkest thoughts
Swallowing twilight
I dream of all things
From the stories told por hidden scars
Unable to mostrar themselves
Under this intense scrutiny
That makes up this world’s attire
To the times that I could be happy
Without a drug to create
The much-needed illusion...
I dream of all things
No matter of their contents
Because, well,
Nightmares are still dreams.
