I get to my front porch, put Derek back into his car, and walk inside. I can see my dad watching football, rooting for the Cardinals to win. And of course, he's yelling his ass off at the TV in the corner. I can see my mom on her wheelchair looking at the void. The worst part is that she's only in her 20s—so young, so tragic. That's what keeps me motivated to be able to get up in the mornings and be positive.
"Hey Dad." I say he turns his head to me and waves with a smile, then goes back to watching his game. I walked up the steps and entered the first door on the left and got to my room. It's nothing special, a computer and an Xbox 360. Besides that, all I have is my skateboard and some books on my bookshelf. I throw on my beanie and grab my controller and plop on my headset, and I will play the best game the world has ever seen: Call of Duty Black Ops 2.
I load into the game and hop onto multiplayer and start playing. My perks are Fleck Jacket, Fast Hands, Dexterity, Bouncing Betty, and Shock Charge. And my primary is an M27, a handgun, and that's it. And trust me, I'm good! I just hide in a place and then ambush them with multiple shots. The only thing is that my teammates, no matter how much I tell them, will always walk to wherever I'm at while having an enemy on them, revealing my position! I cannot express how many times I've died due to this specific problem, and then after that I'll have a slurred off with my teammates, and it'll end with us losing! Or sometimes winning and if I'm the MVP, then I rub it in their faces and watch them get all salty and defensive and shit.
After a long hard day I head to sleep dreaming and thinking about school and my jealousy of my Champions League friends, whom I'll never live up to.
I wake up and head downstairs for breakfast and I see my mom in her wheelchair not moving. I hold her hand and check the pulse as I always did and I hear nothing, not a thump, not a bump, nothing.
She was dead.