Moving to Jordan

by Victoria
(Camas Washington)

Bloody Knife

Bloody Knife

"Look, Jordan." I squeezed my hands into his scrawny shoulders. "I'm moving, but I won't be far! I'll just be down the street!" Tears flooded from his face. I knew I was his best friend, though he was six years younger than me. I am a simple twelve year old, he is a little six year old who cries when I say our "play date" is over.

I know I broke his little heart, and my parents broke mine. I don't want to move into a condo! Those little teeny tiny houses all connected. I shuddered. "But why!?" He wailed. His face turned a bright red. "I'm sorry, but I will come and visit, you can call me on my cell phone after school and we can arrange some play time, okay?" I assured him. "Okay," He agreed, wiping his swollen eyes dry.

The only reason we were moving from our wonderful, medium sized home into a small condo was because my dad was pretty much out of work. He had a small tile setting business, and he barely worked twenty hours this MONTH. I sighed. I closed my eyes, only a few hour after saying bye to Jordan. My bed felt comforting underneath me.

I awoke to mother, calling me to breakfast. I got dressed and hovered over her, waiting for her Queue to get in my father's truck. She waved her hand at me. I ran outside and slammed the door as she followed with a arms full of random stuff, to small to fit in the moving van. Our stuff had been placed in front of our new house, prbably wet and gross by now.

I remember seeing jordan as we drove past his home; his tiny nostrils flared. His face was red yet white, like a ghost. I remember wincing as he threw with all his might a brick at us. Though it landed yards away from where he stood, didn't even get close to the truck. I still felt as if the heavy brick had landed on my heart, leaving it shattered as I watching Jordan disapear.

That night, when a lot of stuff had been moved inside, I was having nightmare. Jordan came to my new home, and killed me. It wasn't a detailed dream. I awoke with a jolt of energy in the morning. I kept wondering where my stuff was. The room I was in had... nothing. I screamed. Nothing. Nobody. Just nothing.

I saw Jordan on the ground next to me, he was balled into the fetal position, crying. I screamed as I noticed his usual rosy red cheeks were now spattered in blood. He got up quietly, death in his eyes. He pulled a knife from his pocket.

"Heaven isn't always good," He had said while pulling the knife from his pants pocket.

"Sometimes you end up re-living your death, over and over..." He trailed off as he put the knife against my throat, climbing to his tip-toes. "Over and over," He whispered in my ear.

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