With Love, Silvia. [✔️]

Chapter One: How the Bands Snapped.

a/n
this story was written when I was twelve years old, and has not been edited. this was more of a fun excitement with writing for me, so please excuse any grammatical errors or plot holes.

It was a fall day in the tiny sleepy town of Hollow Springs, which I now called home. I'd always liked the idea of a little town, a great place to clear your mind, write, have an adventure. But now that I'm here I'd give anything to go back to my old home in a big city, with it's honking horns and blaring sirens. That old place seems like a vivid dream these days...

So, now that I have made a pretty dramatic intro, I'd better introduce myself. My name is Silvia Track, I'm 15 years old and my life has pretty much been dumped upside down. Why? Well it all started when my mother went to the hospital after a long day at work. She was a police officer, probably the best in the ranks. I guess you could say she saw a lot of crime, considering we lived in one of the largest cities in the country; otherwise known as New York.

When I was little I used to worry about my mom getting hurt on duty. So bad, that I would have panic attacks in the middle of class and my teacher would have to send me down to the school counselor. Man, I hated going there. Our counselor  almost never saw any kids, and would get very eager when I would come in all sniffly and weepy eyed. We would do activities to help distract me from my worries, but they rarely helped. I mean, how was playing checkers going to soothe a 7 year old girl who was scared of her mom dying? One day, when we had played checkers, (twice) colored, and watched the beginning of some Disney movie, and I was still crying, the counselor gave up and looked me in the eye.

"Silvia, there comes a time when you have to tackle a problem head-on." She said and took a brown journal out of her desk and plopped it in front of me, then threw a Sharpie marker on top of it.

"Open the book and write your name big and proud on the first page." She instructed. So I did as I was told.

"Now, go onto the next page and write a list of the top 10 worst things that could ever happen to your mother." She said tapping the page in front of me with her big pointy fake red fingernail.

At first I was quizzical, and hesitated. What was this woman trying to do? Make me cry more? But I realized that I'd have to write something to get this crazy counselor off my case. So I wrote the first thing that popped into my head, Death. Yea, I know that is probably the worst thing that could ever happen to anyone ever, so obviously on the top of my list. Then I began to write more and more, and surprisingly I was calm. So calm, that I wasn't even sure why I had been crying in the first place. I looked over my list proud of what I had done.

"Silvia, writing soothes the soul. When you write what you are feeling, it actually can help you feel better. I want you to keep this journal and use it whenever you feel this way. Hopefully this will help, and you'll never have to come down to my office ever again." The counselor said.

Ever since then, I have kept a journal. I have 11 filled up, and I have a whole section on my bookshelf for them. Every time I finish one, I make it my top priority to get a new one. I guess you could say I'm an anxious person, having filled up 11 journals in the past 6 years. But it's my way of telling myself that I'm ok, no matter what life throws at me.

Ok, so now you're probably super confused because that whole backstory has nothing to do with anything, which leads me to the part where I explain that in in fact does...

On November 15 (6 days ago) Mom went to the hospital after a tragic accident when chasing a kidnapper, a whole bunch of police marched right into the guy's apartment with guns drawn. But that stopped nothing. Turns out that there was way more than one kidnapper, 9 to be exact. Only 3 cops my mom leading them loud and proud. Well, I don't like talking about this but I bet you know what comes next. The other two police fled and got backup, while my mom fought strong. When the police backup came, they found her unresponsive. As they fought against the kidnappers Mom was rushed away in an ambulance.

But It was too late.

As soon as I heard the news, the tiny little rubber bands that were trying to hold me together became brittle and snapped.

And my life was forever changed.