The journey to recovery

Chapter 1

The cover was made by meee! That's right I make my own book covers. Although, I have to acknowledge humaneity  since she or he (I don't know) made a tutorial on picsart.
Also I need to give you guys a few disclaimers.

1.The places and a couple of names are completely fictionalized so if I've offended you in any way I apologise.

2. Some content in the story maybe disturbing to some readers. I am not kidding some stuff just isn't meant for some people I have warned you! you're on your own now.

3. There might be some grammatical mistakes not make you cringe mistakes just little  mistakes.That  reminds me I'll be needing an editor I'd be honored to have one.

4. I appreciate constructive criticism so comment away also vote if you want.

5. Also I have re edited the book alot  so you'll see some comments a little off just ignore them.

Since that's  done thanks for choosing this book hope you enjoy the story.

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When one heals from something they usually say you made a recovery.

It could be a quick recovery or a  full recovery even  slow but a recovery. Usually it's uncomfortable or painful long or short and when given a choice some may refuse to do it. This  story is about those that chose to recover. The journey in form of stages that the schizophrenic and alcoholic took to finally recover.

Chapter One

Stage 1: Hostility and Deceit.

Pennsylvania

Ferdinand's P.O.V.

Who is helping you cover your tracks?

And why?

It can't be anyone in the family since mom can't stand that side of the family.

It can't be dad since Tuhari isn't money.

And it can't be me or Verena or Doug since he wants our blood on his hands.

So who?

God I wish Ryder was here I know it's a bad wish since the only reason is I feel lazy.

The rickety bed forced the creaky floorboards to sing off-key. " Ugh" I groaned before the decision was made to tiptoe over them only praising them to sing again.

Curses were blasted at the floorboards till I got my laptop from the clutter of textbooks,essay scripts and stationery with so much care it frightened me.

At the pace of a snail I sat indian style on my bed then commenced my search.

Just the thought of the name made my heart fret and  salty water  trickle down my skin. You can do this! I flexed my fingers then typed in.

Tuhari Mathai.

Hardly had the pictures of an olive skinned  bald man with a clean shaven face and  dark eyes emerged when I got a headache. That was nothing reading his biography introduced a wave of nausea.

Born in September 12, 1960.A marine general. I lost it and slammed the laptop shut at arms length and crawled in a ball then rocked myself.

I'm going to go insane with this but isn't it worth it?

The air under the  hollow floorboard boomed at my stomp against the wooden surface before my fingers pried the floorboard off the abyss which I groped at till a glassy surface was under my fingertips.