Friends First

Chapter 1

Summers POV
I sat on my bed in the room, band posters lazily tacked onto the walls with scraps of Sellotape. The ugly brown/dark cream coloured carpet stained with odd patches of pen ink or lipstick.
A small desk and garden chair in the corner of the room with all of Summer's school books and reading books in neat piles on the desk as well as a few pencils and the odd coloured pen.
The cream coloured walls splattered with bands and celebrities told her that she would never leave. The facet that her wiggles poster that a kind lady had given her when she was 5 was still ok her wall. Nothing ever changed.

I could hear laughter and screams from downstairs. "I should try to talk to them." I thought daily. I couldn't. They would see me. The younger ones were always in your way. Clinging to your ankles or trying to play a game with you.
I stood up and walked over to the chest of draws that contained a few tops and jeans, one hoodie and a cardigan. My school uniform on top of the draws with a lamp next to it.
In the spare draw I kept my secrets. My soaps, diary, phone and charger, my purse and a piece of paper from my father explaining that he hated me because I killed my mother(from being born). I reached inside the drawer and picked out my diary and notebook. My passion was writing.
I walked over to the desk, picked up a pencil, opened up the notebook and started writing. It kept me alive. My writing and my music. Often I felt powerful and strong when I could write about my music. It made me feel special. Like the lyrics were made for me. Like I belonged.