so•ber
/ ˈsōbər /
Not affected by alcohol; not drunk.
Everyone talks about the common effects of drugs and alcohol. The difference from being sober, drunk, or high. Sure, it's hard to stop drinking. Sure, it's hard to quit smoking. It's hard to g...
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"I feel like I finally understand how family love is. Tangled, wounded, and wonderful. Imperfect. A forever love." - Hannah Tunnicliffe ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The bell rings and I don't think I've ever been more excited to leave somewhere. I was told ever since I could talk that school was something to be excited about. I was going to meet so many new friends. And here I was, hating this place more than I hate my new house. I guess we just moved here. I'm starting kindergarten but it's the middle of the year and I already know all the stuff the teachers are teaching. I keep hearing whispers and the girls I try to talk to just laugh at me.
I don't remember life being this hard but I don't really remember anything before this anyway.
The boys just stare at me. I tend to just ignore them even though I've always gotten along with boys. My little brother is my best friend. He's only three but he's turning four soon. I walk out of the classroom grumbling at the boys who are sprinting to their cars and the girls skipping around. I'm not really sure what having a friend means but my mom said I would make some today. I don't think I made any.
I watched as all the kids ran to their cars and all the buses drove off. The parking lot was empty besides a cop car and the rest of the teachers' cars. I was the only kid left sitting on a bench. I felt a small droplet fall on my arm and stared at the water that ran down my arm. Where's my dad? He said he was going to pick me up since my mom was working. He seems to forget about me a lot.
"Holland?" I turned to see my teacher walking towards me, "do you want me to call your dad? You've been waiting out here for a while."
It hasn't been that long.
"No thanks." I respond monotonously.
"Maybe I should, it's been twenty minutes, sweetheart." She smiled sweetly. Sweetheart?
"I don't like that word." I mumbled.
"Which one?" She asked. When I didn't answer she took it upon herself to guess, "sweetheart?"
"I forgot, my dad said he would pick me up down there." I shrugged.
"I can walk you there." She nodded.
"I wouldn't like that." I said standing up and holding onto my backpack straps that wrapped around my shoulders.
I began walking to the spot I told my teacher my dad was going to be at. He wasn't going to be there and I have no idea how to get to my house. The rain already soaked my hair that my mom insisted on curling but I just kept walking anyway. I grunted as I pulled on the neck of the dress my mom also forced on me. It's not that I don't like dresses, but I'm cold.
I turned when I heard the light splashing of tires coming my way. I squinted my eyes at the headlights but turned around and kept walking. I heard the car slowing behind me and if they were planning on kidnapping me I hope they kill me instantly. I looked over when the car pulled beside me and noticed it was a cop car.
