The Hopeless

(A/N):  please not that this really isn't a sequeal to The Darkness, and they can be read interchagebly.  if you wish to read the darkness first:  http://www.wattpad.com/story/1678885-the-darkness     if not, enjoy this!  comment, vote, and fannnnnnnnnnnn!

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Let’s get one thing straight.  The name isn’t hard.  In fact, it’s much easier to say then some of the things other parents concoct for their kids.  It’s like the month May, and then the sound uh, like you are confused.  Only you don’t draw out the ‘H’.

Say it with me, May-uh.  There you go.  Not hard.  Really, not hard.

So my mother was a little drugged when she named me.  I’m sure it wasn’t the first. 

…Oh, I’m sorry; do you not like me insulting my mother?

Ha, I don’t care.  She never did, so why should I?  She stuck around long enough to drop my little sister Carolina on my dad, and then take off.  I was still just a child, not even in school.  Not that she cared.  So I grew up with nannies and baby-sitters.

When you asked my dad where my mother went he would always get this far-off look.  He said she complained about it being too cold up here.  She had grown up in Louisiana, and probably went back.  According to him, I looked just like her…only a little lighter-skinned and my eyes are more shaped like my dad’s.  My mom was creole—part black, part Native American, part white—and dad said men lined up to get a look at her.  He said she was gorgeous.

Clay and Leo, my twin brothers, the middle children, look a little more of a blend of the both of them.

Cara looks more like my dad.

My dad is South Korean, and there has been several times I have had friends over and they were dumbfounded that my dad wasn’t Mexican or something.  Honestly, looking at my entire family in a group, we don’t look like we belong.  I’m sure if my mom cared enough to stick around, we would look a little more put together.

Not that she cared.  After all, why am I calling her ‘she’?  Well, that’s because I never learned her name.  That’s right I don’t know my own mother’s name.

Rather pathetic, right?  But don’t worry, I don’t care.  I never cared, just like she didn’t.

But besides a dysfunctional family, I have bigger problems.  About a month ago, I was pulled from my public school and driven to my aunt’s house.  My aunt’s house in the middle of nowhere.

The fact that my father, Ray, actually stepped out of work for three hours to drive me there shocked me but I learned when I was young not to ask questions. 

Me and my three siblings have been out on her ranch.  Dad left the morning after he dropped us off, and didn’t come back.

And something is up.  It’s not that my dad hasn’t even called, or that my aunt and her husband are constantly whispering in other rooms.

No, I can feel it deep in my bones, like all my life has been prepping for whatever it may be.  Something is happening, and I’m not sure what it is, but I have a feeling it’s very, very bad.