When Life Gives You Lemons

1. Run

That picture is a picture of Claire Foy that I edited (hair, skin tone, makeup) to look like what I imagine as Sarah.

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I ran, and I ran fast, blazing through the woods, howling like there was no tomorrow. My chest heaved with every breath. My four paws hit the ground in a steady rhythm of thumps.  

I was free. Free from the town, free from my parents, free from reality. But as usual, the dream ended when my father unlocked the door and gave me my wake-up call.  

I startled awake, flinging myself off the bed, landing on the floor with a thud.  

He laughed softly. "Wow, you actually stayed in bed this time. Usually you're on the floor."  

"That's great, dad, thanks." I mumbled, rubbing my sore behind as I got up. Whenever anybody told or asked me something after I'd just got up, my response was usually irrelevant to the subject. But they already knew I was a night hawk, not a morning dove.  

He laughed softly at me. "Come on, I made your favourite." he said as he left the room.  

Mmm... French toast with honey, the thought itself made my mouth water. I hopped up agilely off the floor and scurried downstairs.  

My mother turned around from slaving over the hot stove just as I leaped onto a chair, almost toppling it over sideways.  

"One these days, SJ, you're going to either break yourself or the chair doing that." she warned me.  

She never called me Sarah, only SJ, and so did my dad and all my friends. Everyone else called me Sarah.  

She set down my plate with to slices of French toast completely covered in golden honey. I grabbed my fork and dug in. My mom snatched the fork from my hand when my mouth was full and put it on the other end of the table.  

She pulled a hair elastic from her pocket and tied my long, wavy black hair into a pony tail. "Child, you need a haircut, and you need one bad."  

I swallowed the wad of food in my mouth. "No, I like it this long."  

"Your mother is right, SJ, it's time for a haircut." my dad butted in.  

I shot him a cold glare. "Do you want me to jump out the window again?"  

My mom smacked me scoldingly over the head. "Sarah-Jane Maria Smith, don't you ever joke about that! And besides, it's only hair, it will grow back."  

"Yah, okay, mom." I muttered.  

"And I still don't understand how you can sleep in that!"  

I swallowed another bite of food. "Sleep in what? Under Armor mini shorts and long sleeve shirt?"  

"Yes! It's skin tight, it must be unbearable."  

"Clearly, because I'd definitely wear it if it was unbearable." I rolled my eyes.  

"Anyway, we've decided to stop making you go to therapy, as you always skip." my dad said as he opened the newspaper.  

A chunk of toast fell from my dropped jaw. "Seriously?!"  

"Yep," he stayed focused on the paper. "because Dr. Young has agreed to come here instead."  

I moved my plate aside and smacked my head repeatedly on the table.  

"Stop being melodramatic." my mom said.  

I groaned unhappily and lifted my head up. I turned my head and looked out the back window out to the backyard. Was I seeing things now? I swore that I saw four heavy shadows emerging from the woods. The morning sunrise illuminated their yellow eyes. Wait, shadows don't have eyes...