Knowing someone, and living with someone are two completely different things. You might think that by now I must know my father, all of his interests, and all the quirky facts that make up his personality, but frankly I know nothing about him. I know the man he used to be, but not this imposter. I don't want to know him, and  I certainly do not want to live with him. But that is a problem that I have no control over, I realize.

I step off of my front porch, and out into the chilly morning air. The grass is frozen into miniature frost spikes, and I hear the sound of a hammer clanging in the distance. I turn left onto the sidewalk, and within minutes I arrive at Mrs.McKutch's door. She greets me with a hug, before welcoming me inside to unthaw.

We chat for a couple of minutes, before I ask her what she would like me to get for her. Every few days I walk down to the convenience store a couple of blocks away to get her some necessities. She hands me a hefty list of items, as well as some money.

The walk down to the store feels longer today, for some reason. As I'm walking, I have a queasy feeling in my stomach. Something doesn't feel right. I stop and look around, before crossing the four-way. Suddenly, a car swerves around the other cars at the stop light and heads straight towards me. I try to get out of its way, but the car halts to a stop just mere inches away from me. 

The driver of the black vehicle is Eunice Nickelburr. Eunice lives in a dark grey house with her parents near the top of Easy street. Some say she's off her hinges, while others think that she's just a daredevil, as she always drives her car super fast, as if she was a NASCAR driver. Personally I think that she is in a cult, as the way she dresses and acts is downright callous. 

I don't think I've ever seen her wear anything that wasn't black. I don't even think she owns anything of colour, judging by her car, her clothes and her house.

I screech as she honks her horn at me. She keeps blaring her horn until I am out of her way, then she speeds off to God only knows where.

I continue my walk, shaken up a bit, but overall okay. When I get to the store, I begin searching for everything on her list. In the cleaning supplies aisle, I run into Daisy Funk who is smelling some candles. I don't want to talk to her, but as I attempt to shuffle past her, she turns around and smiles.

Daisy Funk is an odd individual. She used to work as a teaching assistant at my school for about a year, before she was fired. Fired for what, no one but her knows. I was selling tickets for a gift basket on my street a few months ago, when I came to her house. I had knocked on her door, and she told me to come inside so that she could find some money to buy a ticket. 

Inside of her house was like a Yankee Candle store. She had candles on her coffee tables, on her counters, in her sink, on her couch, and everywhere in between. I guess the expression on my face made me look weirded out, for when she came back she seemed pretty rude, despite her happy tone earlier. I haven't had any interactions with her since then, until now.

"Look who it is!" She exclaims, "Emerald Green, how are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you." I reply as monotonously as I can while still sounding polite. "I must be-

"Do you think I could use your cart?" She cuts me off before I get the chance to finish.

"What?"

"Your cart, you don't seem to have much in it, whereas I need a cart to carry all of my--well my candles and such, but there were none at the front of the store."

I want to tell her that I actually have a lot of things that I need to get, but before I do, she starts unloading the candles in her arms into my cart.

"Oh, okay" I mutter, as I grab my things and walk away.

Trying to carry all of Mrs.McKutch's groceries in my arms is a struggle, but somehow I manage to, and soon I am out on the street again, with bags in my hands.

After dropping them off to her, she invites me to stay for supper, so I do, knowing that there isn't any food or company back home. After we've finished, we go into her living room and sit down. The next thing I know I lose track of time listening to some of her stories, and when she's done, I decide that I should head home.

Back in my room, I change into some comfy clothes and lay down. I can hear the TV on in the other room, but I try to rid my head of the horrible thoughts that accompany thinking of my father.

The TV volume is turned way too high, and I can't sleep, so I get up and walk to my father's room to shut his door. He apparently doesn't like that however, as he throws whatever he's drinking at the door, soaking me in liquor.

I go to the bathroom, undress, and get in the shower. The hot water feels good against my bruises So good in fact, that I debate staying in here forever. It's like all of the stress is evaporating at the touch of the hot water. When the water starts to turn cold I reluctantly get out and dry off.

Staring at my school-bus-yellow wallpaper reminds me that there is school tomorrow. I groan. I like to think that I have a love-hate relationship with school. On one hand, it means that I don't have to be around my father for several hours, but on the other hand school is still school. Maybe I can just sit in the back and attempt to sleep tomorrow, I think to myself.

I can't hear the TV on in my father's room, which is actually quite odd, considering he always has it turned on, even when he's gone out. I'm not about to go check, though. Who cares why the TV is turned off? He could be dead in there, for all I care.

That may have been a bit cruel, however the things that my father have done to me are unforgivable, and I've lost every morsel of respect for that man, so who cares if he dies? He's practically already dead anyway.

I need sleep, so I shake all of the morbid thoughts out of my head. I guess I didn't quite shake them out enough, however.

I dream that I am standing in my father's bedroom in the dark, wearing a nightgown. He is laying on his bed, asleep. I  have something in my right hand. I look down to see a steak knife. I start to run towards my father, but I can't reach where he is laying for as I run, I am just putting more distance between us. Anger is running through my veins. I finally manage to reach the foot of his bed, and I lurch at my father. 

Right when the knife plunges into his back, I wake up. I am in my room, but my window is boarded up. I rub my eyes and go over to it, but no matter how hard I pull, I can't pry the boards off of the window. I hear my door open, and my father is standing there without an expression on his face. I feel sick to my stomach.

We stare at each other for a couple of minutes, before he slowly turns around and leaves my room. I follow him to the top of the staircase, when an idea pops into my head. I leap forward, and push him.

I watch in complete horror as his legs give out, and he tumbles down the long staircase in slow motion. His face floods with agony, as he rolls over each step. I hear a crack as his neck gets caught on one of the steps. His eyes bulge out of his head before they close. As his limp body hits the bottom with a thud, I realize what I have done.

I'm suddenly woken up by the sound of my alarm going off. I reach over to where it sits on my night stand, but it won't turn off. That's when I realize that my alarm clock doesn't make that noise.

I sit up suddenly, and look out my window. Parked in my driveway is a police car, that has it's lights on. It's still fairly early in the morning, and though I'm confused, I quickly get dressed and head downstairs. As I go down the steps I recall my dream last night, and shiver.

I hear someone knocking at our door. Little do I know that when I open the door, my life will be changed forever.

"Hello," the officer says when I open the door, "are you Emerald Green?"

I nod as he leads me out onto the front steps. The bitter air nips at my arms. We sit down.

"I have been asked to inform you that your father died last night. I am so sorry."

I suddenly break down into tears. I don't know if they're sad tears or happy ones. All I know is that right now I've turned on the faucet, and I need to drain some of my emotions. After a few minutes, I stop.

"How?" I ask him, wiping the remainder of my tears away.

"Last night, he was driving while impaired, and he got into a car accident."

"I see." I say as I stand up, "you can go now."

"I'm afraid not," he replies,"If you'll go inside and collect your things, I'll be outside waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"Well, you don't currently have any guardian, and I'm going to bring you down to the foster home, until we can relocate you to a permanent family."

I raise my eyebrows, before turning around and opening up the front door. Once inside, I start to pace back and forth. There is no way that I'm going with that police officer to a new family, let alone anyone. I run up the stairs, and grab a suitcase from the closet in the hallway.

I start to empty out all of my belongings into it, clothes, jewlery, even my comforters and pillows. Once I'm finished, I head downstairs, and out the back door. I stand there for a minute, as I wonder where to go. I have an idea.