The Truth

Subject: The Truth Tue Mar 20, 2012 7:52 pm

(So, I said I'd post it (I'll be posting the rest variating between Thomas, Thalia, and myself) so I posted it!!! Hope you all like it!)

Prologue

Ever since their wedding day Adam hated them. He’d never really been close to his dad, or his mom, for that matter, who had left them four years previously, but this marriage was too much. It’s not that Emma mistreated him—in fact, she was very nice to him, it was just that she’d never be the same as his mom.
A couple of years passed. Emma grew a little bit closer to Adam—taking him out to dinner every once-in-a-while, like his father so lovingly never did for him, and buying him more clothes when he needed them, unlike how his dad just gave him hand-me-downs that were about four sizes too big for his small frame. He was finally getting close enough to say that he loved her … like a mother, of course.
Adam never would forget the day. It was July 19th, two days after his birthday. He had just turned fifteen. He remembered walking out of that hospital with tears in his eyes, avoiding eye contact in fear of their reactions or questions. He remembered how he’d skipped school for days … months even, and how his dad tried to comfort him, but couldn’t get much out but “I know how you feel.” How could he say that? He didn’t understand at all. No one could—they didn’t know the truth.

Subject: Re: The Truth Tue Mar 20, 2012 10:02 pm

Well, so far it caught me, especially the cliff hanger e.e I hope to see more of it soon ewe But I wish to know how Adam looks like xD just to get a good mental image .w.

Subject: Re: The Truth Tue Mar 20, 2012 10:30 pm

Yeah, that was just basically explaining the story line and like ... the plot Very Happy

but just btw, the whole rest of the book is in a different person (it changes from third to first) because it's basically Adam's confession. OMG. Sorry I'm excited about my bookeyyyyyyyyyy.

Subject: Re: The Truth Wed Mar 21, 2012 1:21 pm

(Alrighty, I have chapter 1!!!)

Chapter 1

I guess I should probably introduce myself. My name is Adam Kinney. I am an average 16-year-old boy—average height, average weight … just average. I have natural red hair, green eyes, and a ton of freckles. I must admit that I am a bit mental, but you’d have to know the whole story to understand. I’m a bit mental, I’m not going to lie, but not because of a brain malfunction that I was born with, but more like … I sort of lost it about a year ago. Let me start from the beginning, so you can understand why. This is the truth, and nothing but the truth.

It all began on July 19th. I had woken up around noon-ish, to the sound of someone screaming. It was a high-pitched, very shrill shriek. Just listening to it made me know, the producer of the sound was suffering a terrible fate.
I sprinted down the stairs, tripping several times, being the klutz that I am, to the kitchen, which sounded like where the noise was coming from. It didn’t take me long to find her, since she was screaming so loudly. It was Emma. My step-mom. She had two knives in her back. It looked as if she’d been stabbed several times, based on the wounds, and then the two knives were thrusted into her back as the killer left. I looked closer. Her face had drained of all color, and her beautiful blue eyes had turned grey, and colorless, with the veins popping out. Her tongue was almost as white as her face, with the lips matching.
Emma’s screaming had died down to a loud moan. She had to get to the hospital, but dad was at work, and I didn’t have my license yet, although I did have my permit. I figured if I was pulled over I’d have two excuses: one, I had an adult in the car, two, she was freakin dying!
I carried her out to the car. It wasn’t all that difficult, considering that she lost about twenty pounds from all the blood loss. I unlocked the car, and gently shoved her into the backseat. Backing the car up as quickly as I could, (not to mention the mailbox I hit) and when I was out of the driveway, I stepped on the accelerator and drove as fast as I could without being pulled over.
It was about a five minute drive to the hospital, which was good.
Still holding Emma in my arms, careful not to touch the wounds or push the knives in any further, I ran inside, straight to the front desk. I didn’t know what to say. I kind of blubbered it out.
“My…momisdyingand…Idon’t…knowwhattodo!” I said as fast as I could, but also as clearly as I could, despite how scared I was. I tried slowing it down a bit. “Please help me. I don’t know what to do and my step-mom is dying. I’m scared!” The desk lady looked up at me. At first her face was expressionless, but, after taking in the situation, she made a quick, quiet phone call that I couldn’t quite understand. Then she motioned for me to follow, and led me to room number 319.
I will never forget that number. At 3:19pm, in room 319, on July 19th, 2011, Emma Kinney died.