Corrupted Values

Rolling over to face the clock, I read out “Six Fifteen…” It’s expected for me to wake up early. Mom always wants me up and ready for the day by six thirty. “Out of bed, Lazy bones! I have breakfast ready and waiting!” I hear Mom happily yell from downstairs. It sucks being a senior. So close but yet so far from graduating and finally being done with school. “Coming.” I tiredly yell back and yawn. I don’t want to leave the comfort and warmth of my bed just yet, but I reluctantly stand up and get dressed, knowing mom will just come get me if I stay. I throw on a white short sleeve shirt, a black hoodie with grey leggings. As I walk downstairs, I quickly tie up my long dark brown hair in a ponytail. A heavenly smell hits my nose when I walk into the kitchen. “Pancakes. My favourite.” I say taking in the smell while walking up to the counter to greet mom. “Of course, how was your sleep?” Mom asks as she flips over another pancake. “It was good, thank you." I reply politely. I sit and eat with mom for breakfast. It’s always just been the two of us, but I don't mind. I love her. Once I’m done eating, I grab my backpack, put on my socks and sneakers and head out the door. It’s a short fifteen-minute walk to school. I’m indifferent about going to school. I’ve always had the same classes since my mom usually chose what she wanted for me. I never had much of a choice. The only thing I did choose was that I wanted to take Portuguese. Mom never likes to talk about my dad. Until a year ago, my mom never spoke about him. The only thing I ever knew was his name, Sergio Selvera. Finally, she opened up and told me about him being a respected man from Brazil before he died. She told me he was a hard-working mechanic. Until one unfortunate day, he had a tragic accident. While working under a car, the jack suddenly slipped, dropping the car and crushing him underneath, killing him instantly. After I found out my dad was Brazilian, I wanted to learn Portuguese to keep a part of him alive within me. I walk into mathematics class. I always hated math, it always seems to drag on forever. My next two classes are Socials and Portuguese, which go by pretty quickly. Now it’s lunch and I’m starving. After waiting in line for today's lunch, I go sit at a table by myself. I never made friends because my life is so busy but I don't care. I'm almost done with school anyway, and I turn eighteen in a couple days. During school my mom wants me to stay focused, but outside of school it is no different. She has me studying and committed to passing with the best grades, so I try to impress her by always being one of the top students in all my classes. After a few years of begging, she finally said I could learn something I wanted, and I chose to take gymnastics classes. Once I’m done with my ham and cheese sandwich, I decide to do my homework from today for the remainder of lunch before I make my way to my next class, History. However, on my way, I end up running straight into someone knocking my books all over the floor. “Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” I say in a rushed voice. I quickly pick up all my things. “It’s alright. Here let me help you.” She says as she picks up my last two books from the floor. “Thanks.” I say, taking them from her and rushing off to my next class. I know I'm going to be a couple of minutes late, but that doesn't matter. I know I'm gonna be in trouble with Mr. Collymore anyway. He always seems to have it out for me, no matter how hard I try. I burst through the doors with class already in session. Suddenly, all eyes are on me, including Mr. Collymore's, looking very unimpressed. “Miss Selvera. Nice of you to join us” he says, glaring at me. Mr. Collymore’s eyes never leave me. I can feel them burn into the back of my head as I walk to the back of the class and take a seat. “Sorry, I’m late. I ran into someone on my way here”, I say trying to sound apologetic instead of annoyed. “Well, then, miss Selvera, maybe you should try to be here earlier instead of at the last minute. So you don't continue to be late and interrupt my class. No?” he says with annoyance dripping from his tongue. “Yes sir, sorry for interrupting. I'll try to come earlier." I say trying to hide my irritation. “You will have detention after school. Don’t be late again.” Mr. Collymore says before resuming the lesson. The rest of class goes by smoothly. Once history is over, we have our fifteen-minute break, and then it's time for science. I always liked it the most, and I've always been naturally good at understanding it. I'm annoyed that I got detention, but once class is over, I slowly make my way to the detention room. As I open the door I see that today's detention supervisor is my favourite teacher Mrs. James. She’s always been kind to me. "Oh hello, Miss Azaliah Selvera. What brings you here?" She asks, looking puzzled. "I was late to Mr. Collymore's class again." I say, rolling my eyes with a hint of annoyance in my voice. "Ahh, I see. Well, take a seat." she says, waving her hand towards the desks. I walk over to one near the back, take off my hoodie and place it in my bag while placing my textbooks on the desk to go over the notes I took in history today. An hour later it’s time to head home. I go to my locker to put my books away and grab my bag. Once I have everything, I start walking home. I slowly approach the corner across from my house and stop in my tracks. There are two big black SUVs in the driveway and parked along the curb. I’m a little thrown off because my mom never has people come over without telling me first. Hesitantly, I start walking towards the door going through our gate when I hear two gunshots go off. In a panic, I run from the pathway and hide in the bushes next to our door. I just barely hide before two men come walking out the front door. Wearing all black with guns holstered to their sides and knives holstered to their calves. I could just hear what they were saying. As one of the men turns, holding a phone out between the two of them. "Fala patrão, o bagulho ta feito. A parada é que eles tinham uma filha mas ela não estava em casa." One of the men states. Translation - "Hey boss. The jobs done. There's a problem. It seems they had a daughter, but she's not home." "Encosta lá e mete o pipoco nela.” The voice on the phone orders. Translation - "Wait there and kill her." Portuguese might not be my first language, but from what I can understand, these people are not to be trusted. I slowly move through the bushes, trying to stay as quiet as possible. I crawl through the bushes till I get to the side of the house. I look in through our big window that faces the living room and freeze when I see my mom's lifeless body on the floor. My heart sinks at the sight of her. What did my mom do to deserve this? I stay glued to the wall and duck under the window, holding in my cry, trying to stay quiet. When I finally catch my breath, I slowly continue on. My mom has always told me if anything happens to her, get out of town and not to trust anyone, not even the police. I always found it weird that she was scared of something happening and not trusting anyone, but that's what she’s told me since I learned to talk, so I never questioned it. I crawl till I'm parallel to the big wooden gate. I cautiously move the latch and open it making sure to look out and see that no one would see me. Once I know the coast is clear, I make a run for it. The bus stop isn't far. If I go down this backroad it's across the street. As I run down the dark alleyway I can’t stop thinking about what just happened. My mom is gone, and I’m alone. My mom was a very secretive woman. We never put any photos up, I didn't go into the home office unless asked to, and never asked about her work. I always thought that last rule was a bit odd, but it's not like I wanted to ask about some boring office job anyway. I cautiously make it to the end of the alleyway. It’s a bit chilly outside so I throw on the hoodie from inside my bag that I had taken off while at school. I'm lucky my mom was always persistent that I had money on me. I sit on the cold bench at the bus stop and a chill runs up my spine from the cool seat. It’s getting dark and I have nowhere to go. I can’t go home and I don’t have any family that I know of. I'm pulled out of my thoughts when I see the bus coming to a stop in front of me. I swipe my bus card and go find a seat in the back. When I finally sit my thoughts come back to me that my mother is gone and I break. I silently cry with my knees to my chest and my head in my arms. I ride the bus for a few stops trying to calm down and figure out what to do. “Goodness, are you alright, Dear?” I feel a hand gently place down on my shoulder. I slowly look up, wiping my tears away with the back of my hands meeting her gaze. She’s an older lady, maybe in her seventies. “...I-I’m okay,” I say with a sad smile. “My, my. What are you doing on the bus so late? Won't your parents wonder where you got to?” She asks as another tear runs down my face. “No.” I answer quietly as I put my head back down into my arms. “How old are you? And what's your name dear?” she asks, sitting next to me. “My name’s Azaliah and I'm seventeen,” I answer, trying to hold back my tears. “Well, why don't you come stay with me tonight? Then tomorrow I'll help you figure out what to do next?” She says with a sweet smile. I know I shouldn't trust anyone, but what could this lady ever do? “A young beautiful thing like yourself really shouldn't be out here all alone." She states with concern. “Uhm, okay. Thank you.” I say with a nod and a sad smile. “It’s really not a problem for me, Azaliah. My name's Beatrice.” She says as she takes my hand in hers.