Danielle's dad, Frank Smores.
Danielle's mother, Becky Smores.
Danielle's twin sister, Paris Smores.
Danielle's little sister, Claire Smores.
One big happy family.
Bridgeport. Lovely. Smogy. A very busy city. The home of music, clubs, dance, and the home of us, the Smores. My mother, Becky, loved to play music. Guitar, bass, drums, you name it, she played it. Piano had always been her favorite pass time though. She loved her red piano dearly and not a day passed where she wasn't jamming along to a song that she had made up or just perfecting one of her pieces.
My dad on the other hand, didn't care much for the music but instead spent his time int the kitchen wipping up fabulous meas for us or in the study, reading all the latest and newest recipes.
My sister and I, two peas in a pod. Looking nothing alike, yet acting so similar. She was my bestfriend. I loved her and she loved me.
We did everything together, we just got along that well. Everything about us fit together. Two lonely puzzle pieces that were finally together again.
My little sister Claire was spoiled, very spoiled. Both my parents adored kids to the end of the world and back. There was nothing they wouldn't give to their precious daughters to make them happy, comfortable, and safe.
We promised we would be friends. No matter what.
We promised to stay close.
We promised to love each other.
Life was good.
Everyday, in between the time it took Paris and I to do our homework, and when dinner was ready, we sat besides the piano and listened to my mother's music. So sweet, so warm. The way her fingers gently touched the keys to make a sound was pure magic. Every touch, a new note, every note, wonderful.
Every morning, bright and early, Paris and I were awakened bu the sweet smell of freshly cut fruit followed by the warm air from the food cooking in the oven.
Everyday, yummy breakfast with the family. We did everything together as a family.
School was fun. I always had a partner for everything we did in class, as long as Paris was not home sick.
Meanwhile, my parent's owned a daycare. They took care of all the kids in the city.
My parent's daycare was a big business. They were known all through the city as "The Smores with a touch of love,"
Coming home, Paris and I did our homework and then helped my parents pick up all the messes the kids had made when they were over.
Days into months, months into years. We all grew up :)
My sister Paris grew from a loving and caring child, into a bitter and mean spirited teen. Paris and Claire did not get along well at all. When ever they were in the same room, Paris would shoo Claire into the other room. She would run out with tears in her eyes as all she wanted was to be accepted.
Every time Claire was shoo'd into the other room, I would comfort her and dry her tears. Kids shouldn't cry, they are just little kids after all.
Yet still, Paris continued to taunt and tease Claire in every possible way. Claire was sad all the time and I could not stand to see a look of complete hopelessness on her face.
"PARIS!" I screamed as I had enough of her hurting Claire.
"What now twit?" she spat back.
"You can't just do that to a little kid,"
"She isn't THAT little. She needs to grow up and stop playing with her dumb little toys."
"What do you mean 'dumb little toys'? She is playing with the exact ones we played with when we were her age!"
"Same difference," And with that she walked out of the room.
I went over to Claire and gave her a give hug full of happiness and hope.
"Trying to comfort her now, are yah?" Pairs said as she saw me huggin Claire.
"She needs someone to comfort her,"
"Uh, no she doesn't. She isn't a little kid."
"What are you talking about? She is still a little kid!"
"No, she is old enough to take care of her self. Little brat. She needs to grow up and stop being such an annoying brat!"
Every day we grew further and further apart.
Not only was she mean to Claire, but she was also mean to me. The pact that we had made in our youth clearly broken.
One day I had enough. I walked up to her, and slapped her, hard.
But little did we know what our parents were doing.
As Paris and I grew farther and farther apart, Claire and I grew closer. I loved Claire more then anything and she filled the hole in my heart that Paris had ripped out.
My mother soon became pregnant. My father spoiled her very much. What ever she wanted, he gave her.
My mother tried to warn Paris that her actions to Claire and I were unforgivable but she just went along as usual and paid no attention to my mother.
I warned Claire to not, ever get in a fight with Paris as she would always win with her clever tongue and sharp, hurtful words.
One day all I heard was screaming coming from outside. I ran out to see what the problem was.
"You little b*tch!" screamed Paris.
"Bu-bu-but I didn't do anything!" pleaded Claire tears streaming down her face.
This was not Claire's fight. I stepped in for her even though I knew I was bound to lose. She punched, kicked, pulled my hair, and ripped out the little respect I had for her clean out.
With one last kick to my stomach, Paris ran out of the house, not ever to be seen again.
I looked back to Claire, tears running down her face.
"Oh, don't cry," I begged.
"She 's gone, isn't she?" Claire asked wiping away her tears with the edge of her shirt.
"Yes. And hopefully gone for good."
After that heart-wrenching day, thing went back to normal for the most part. Then my mother went into labor.
And we welcomed home Rocky Smores.
Claire and Rocky were perfect together. I knew that they would be ok with my there.
I had enough of this look, I had gone through too much in this.
It was time for a change.
Much better now :)
"Hey, um mom?" I asked my mother.
"Yes sweety?she answered.
"I think it is time for me to move out."
"Well mom, I have already graduated and I need a new start."
"Well, I know everybody is going to miss you."
"I will miss you guys too."
Bridgeport. Lovely. Smogy. A very busy city. The home of music, clubs, dance and the home of us, the Smores.
But now, I needed a fresh start. A new beginning and Sunset Valley was the place for me. The kids I was going to raise were going to have a good life. They weren't going to be taunted or teased as Paris did to Claire and I. My kids were going to be fair, kind, and nice... what ever they would be, they wouldn't be like Paris.
And, there was going to be 100 of them.