"Lottie, you have to make some effort to shower." howled Skye as she came round on the Monday. "Do I really? I'm not going out at all. I don't have to worry about showering." She reached into her bag, pulling out a plastic CD case labelled "Whole Lotta Lottie." She handed it to me, negligent to the fact that it would not help. "You think this is going to fucking help?" I screamed at her. I was getting sick of her shitty thoughtlessness. "If you think this is going to help, then you can carry your ass out of my life! You've ruined enough for me!" And for the first time ever, I saw Skye, bowling with tears, begging for my forgiveness. After minutes of kicking and screaming, I drove her out of the house like an exorcist drawing a demon from a body. I had royally upset Skye; she had gone forever.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Lottie
RomanceYoung Charlotte Sykes has been struggling with depression for as long as she could remember.
