How it all happened

This is where my story begins.

My mother, Sharese Beavens was a user. A druggie. A drug addict. Her chose of drug, heroin. She threw herself away. Surprisingly, she managed to stay in high school till her senior year. That's when my dad, Derek Anders noticed her. They started going out and my mom stopped using.

My mom was sober for three years and her and my dad got married. Half a year later, she got pregnant with me and my brother. We would have been twins. But when he was born, he died of heart and lung failure. He wasn't the only one with lung problems though. I had terrible asthma, (still do) and had to stay in the hospital for about three weeks.

My brothers death, even though he was only a few hours old, was a trigger to my mom. Seven years later, she died of a heroin over dose. That sent my dad down the drain. He would work, and work, and barley have time for me. He got back into gear when child services started checking in on me.

About two years after my mothers death, my dad started a drug treatment program. It turned into a place where drug addicts would stay and get treatment. It was pretty successful. He had a friend that was a psychiatrist and she gave him idea's on improving it. 

Not long after that, there were more therapy sessions and there were also drug addicts and alcoholics. Some people who came here were court ordered and some were sent here. It's known pretty well. 

When I was around thirteen my dad remarried, a lady named Charlette. She had a kid a year older than me, and well my dad and her had a kid. We live right next door the the treatment building, and when a meth addict broke into our house with a gun, Charlette moved. She took my little brother but left her son to stay with us because he was getting into the wrong crowd.

That was the beginning. 

This is an explanation.

The town we live in is a small town. Everyone know's everyone type of town. There is only one high school, that was slightly over crowded and about two elementary schools. 

I'm a junior, while my step-brother is a senior. He is the bad boy, (even though he's a bad boy he doesn't do drugs or drink. He just hangs out with people who do.) and I'm the loner. People don't bother talking to me and I don't bother talking to them. 

I like to write and play guitar. I like rock, punk, screamo, alternative music but I'm open to listen to anything. I have  Harley Davidson soft-tail, and I'm a mechanic at the local automotive shop, even though I'm the only female mechanic there. 

I don't like stereotypes and sexist people.

I don't like it when people judge other people.

And, I'm against the death penalty.

That was the explanation.

But this story is about what is happening now.

Which so happens to be April 21, 2012.

My seventeenth birthday.

Happy birthday me.