Once I reached to her house, I already see men hired by Chelsea shoving my grandmother's belongings in a rusty, old truck. I slid into the house and saw that it was half empty. I looked around and couldn't find anything memorable. What was left were some furniture, giant paintings on the wall, and a broken vase on the kitchen floor. Then I remembered, when I was younger there would be this metal box my grandmother would hide under her bed that would have some of her treasures, photos, and under all that is a sewing kit. We used to sew together and make blankets for our neighbors. I zoomed over to my grandma's room and saw men glaring at me while trying to move her giant bed. "Move! Get out of the way kid " One of the men shouted. "S-sorry." I choked out. Why am I still crying?
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Stitch
Teen FictionIt contains cursing reader discretion is advised. It's about a child's "trials" with his stepmother. Contains gruesome material.
