I'm saying "I do"....but not for Love

Chapter 1

Hey ya'll!

So I had this new idea for a story and thought I'd try it out... I can't wait to hear what ya'll think of it. (Like it? Love it? Dislike it? Hate it?) Let me know!! :)

By the way....any of you who have been reading "Praying for Logan"....the reason I haven't uploaded any on it in awhile is because things are mostly the same. No change really...

Anyways....on to the story! Hope you like it!! :) 

Comment, vote, fan, et cetera!
~Dani :)

PS-Please refrain from "pinning" my works on Pinterest!! Thanks :)

I awoke to the familiar screams of my family members on that bright Tuesday morning in early February. Outside of my bedroom window, the sun was shining, the weather was perfect (not hot, but not cold--in the low sixties), and it was altogether great. But inside the window...well, that was a totally different story.

 I pulled my pillow over me head, wishing I could drown out the argument coming from down the hall. It sounded like, from what I could tell, my twenty year old brother, Carter, and my mother were arguing. Again.

After listening to this everyday for all of my seventeen, almost eighteen, years of life, I probably should have been used to awaking to arguments and fights. Falling asleep to the sounds of them, too.

My mother, Amanda McLaughlin, was an alcoholic. I was used to getting calls from my mother on the weekends, asking me to come get her from some random bar, or sometimes from some of her "friends" houses. You know how it's supposed to be the mother taking care of the children? That's not what it was like in my home.

My father wasn't much of a parent either. He wasn't an alcoholic like my mother. Rather, he was a workaholic with a terrible temper. To be honest, I was glad he was rarely home. He had never actually hit me, but he'd come close to it a few times. When he was home, I lived in fear of doing something wrong. I was scared enough of his verbal assault when he was unhappy--I shuddered to think of what it would be like if he took out his anger on us physically.

On to Carter, my brother. He was troublemaker--always has been, always will be. He was just that kind of guy. Carter spent most of his school years in ISS (in-school-suspension), detention, and occasionally was picked up by the cops. It was never to surprising to find out he had popped some random person in the jaw over something stupid, and to get a call from the police station to come bail Carter out. He had enrolled in a community college right after graduation and dropped out within a month. He was a bum. He was always drunk or high and still ran with a bad crowd.

With all of this mess in my family, it was definitely surprising I wasn't totally screwed up like the rest of them. I had learned at a young age to just stay out of everyone's way at home and try not to make anyone mad.

At home, I was a nobody. I was only good for cleaning and bailing people out of jail, or being the driver for one of my family members. Thankfully, my life at school was a different story. 

In school, everyone thought I had the perfect life, minus Carter. I was popular, but not the mean-girl type. I wasn't overly populuar. It was more like I was known as the girl who was everybody's friend and would be there if anyone ever needed me.