Hahaha Matthew IS a total babe I might be able to update tonight. And can I get at least 2 more answers?
Yes because it will give more suspense and drama to the story and it will make it more awesome than it already is and He's a hottie!!
I shut the front door behind me, and didn't leave my place until I heard the car tires reluctantly pull away from the curb and down the street. I sighed. Matthew was special to me, but I couldn't be with him. Well, I mean, maybe I could… but- The lights flashed on, and I looked over to see my mother standing in the doorway. She looked worried. And a bit disappointed. "Dear, I think you should switch schools." she hiccuped. I walked closer. Mom had been crying, her eyes were red and puffy. I noticed her hand was wrapped around the cordless phone, and the other clutching a tear-soaked tissue. "Why?" "I just think it would be good for you"- "Mother. Tell me the truth." "Anna Goodwin called. And she-she told me the neighborhood would be better off if you weren't near the students anymore." "Is that exactly how she said it?" "I, well, no." Anna Goodwin was the neighborhood white picket fence owning, blue mini van driving, nuclear family having, PTO meeting attending, soccer mom bítch. She ran the town with an iron fist, she was present at all the events that the town held, and she was such a stereotype that it sickened me. And now she had the audacity to tell my mother what to do with me. She was cocky enough to make her burst into tears over the phone, and not in person. "Don't worry, mom. It'll be ok." I murmured. And with that, I went into my room, and locked the door. I slammed open the dictionary, unlocked the journal inside, and slid my finger across the paper's edge. Blood trickled from my finger, and I swiped it across Hilary's name. With my pen, I wrote Anna Goodwin down on the paper, and snapped the journal shot. I found myself breathing heavily. I wasn't tired, but I was angry. Feeling a heat at my face, I stared at myself in the mirror, despite the fact that my room was completely dark. How could I murder an adult? She wouldn't succumb to peer pressure, drugs, or alcohol. What would seem believable to the public? Something the media would portray as "a tragic accident"? An accident. Anna was a slightly older woman, a bit past her prime. Maybe one good push was all I needed. Maybe I could "need help", flag Anna over, and kill her then. There were too many "maybes" and not enough "definites". An idea that would seem solid enough to pass as an accident was evading my mind. And then I got it. My plan was painful, but I would have to deal with it. My reward: Anna Goodwin's death. ~ The next day, I crunched through the snow towards the woods. It was colder than usual, and I happily noted that made me numb. I didn't want to feel any pain today, although I knew it would still be there. Every Saturday, for about an hour, Anna Goodwin would go on power hikes in the woods. That gave me plenty of time. I crept over to a small tree in wait. The familiar squish of shoes against the snow raised the hair on my arms. I had recognized and memorized they way Anna Goodwin power walked, down to each step. She was listening to music, and the sound was bursting out of her earbuds. She wouldn't hear me coming. I silently followed Anna, until we got to a curve in the path, which was a few feet away from the cliff's edge. I firmly grasped a palm over her mouth, and hooked my other arm around her neck, dragging her to the cliff's overlook. Anna's hands tried to pry away at my palm over her mouth, but I wouldn't budge. I spun her around, still keeping my hand over her mouth. "You make me sick, Anna. The stereotypical perfect mom. With the perfect family, in the perfect neighborhood, who just has to have the PERFECT little neighbors for her oh-so-sensitive children." Anna widened her eyes. I could faintly hear her muffled protests from under my gloved hand. I smiled darkly. "Too bad I'm not perfect." I said. And with that, I shoved Anna. She fell off the cliff. A minute later, I heard her hit the ground with an earsplitting crack. I leaned over the edge and peered down, but the fog and frost made it impossible to see all the way down the cliff. I didn't need to see to know Anna was dead. Even if she wasn't, she won't be able to move. And soon the animals will take care of her. I brushed away my footprints the best I could, and dug up certain spots so it would look like the cliffside crumbled while Anna was standing there, and she fell to her death. Nobody was outside, so nobody would know that I pushed her. And that was the way I liked it.