Handle with Care

Chapter 1

**Hello, this is just a short draft of the first chapter to see how people would like it and your opinion on the characters and how it is written.**

It's a beautiful sunny morning, the sky a bright shade of blue, only a few white fluffy clouds dotted throughout the endless abyss of beauty.

The birds, no matter the size fly freely, chirping in the open air, wings flapping soundlessly, not a single noise except freedom of the innocent creatures, blissfully unaware of life below them.

The time? 6:23am, the sun is shining beautifully bright, the heat penetrating my skin, it will be a hot day no doubt, 36 degrees they said in the paper, which means it's nearer towards 40.

But I'm so cold, teeth chattering, the hot cup of coffee doing nothing to warm my shaking hands, my favourite woollen pyjamas doing nothing to warm my ice cold skin, my old torn slippers doing nothing to warm my feet. Despite the massive crater in my left slipper, I expected some sort of warmth.... Maybe I should throw them away, they aren't any help to me, and certainly nobody else... the hole really is that big.... But they are my favourite, I can't let them think they are unwanted... nobody likes to feel like that, It is an unnecessary feeling.

"Milo, Milo, who's a good boy?"

Milo, what a beautiful boy, his golden brown hair almost straw like with age, his face still young with beauty, his breath as smelly as fish, but his loyalty, as rich as money, as beautiful as the ocean waves, and he's all mine, my 4 legged golden ridgeback, you saved me just as much as I saved you.

His bark so deep he seems ancient, his energy... also that of a man of 70, but you have to give it to the old boy his enthusiasm is 100, at least he tries, and he still manages to scare the living death out of the poor newspaper guy, he kindly drops it far away from the gate outside, scared Milo will rip his hand off I think.

"Milo, Milo, come boy, shh, come"...

"Milo, thank you, now come, come eat, food, you want food?" What a dog wouldn't do for food, hey.

BRRR BRRR BRRR BRRR

Answer or not to answer, that is the question.

He'll just keep ringing, he always keeps bloody ringing, sometimes I wish he never had a voice, or a brain for that matter, that would make things a hell of a lot easier.

My phone vibrating half-heartedly on the worn out brown couch, the screen shining brightly, Xzavier's name written boldly across the screen, isn't it too early for one on one conversation?

"....Hello..." My voice quiet, uneven.... How I hate my voice now, it was always so confident and now... now it was... well... now it's... weak.

"Hi, how are you doing today? Not too early for you is it?" Dr Xzavier Pretorius, Confident and strong, his deep voice booming over the phone.

".... Umm nope... nope I'm awake...." Ugh can't we just get to the point already, I hate phone conversations, scrap that I hate conversation full stop.... I hate people.

"You were supposed to come in yesterday to speak with the psychiatrist, you said you'd be there, you know what will happen if you miss another appointment. Olivia, I know this is hard for yo..." Sympathy, his voice full of sympathy, the need to help someone broken, the need to fix them, make them like they were before... It's a shame he doesn't realize that I will never be like the girl I used to be.

"I don't feel the need for it, nor have I ever, It's a waste of tax payers money, I've been fine so far, I'm sure I will cope for more years to come" WOW you go girl, you tell him, that sounded confident right? I believe that was confident.