| Hanging Onto Everything |

✘Preface✘

A/N: Hey! I just wanna say, thank you for taking the time to read my first book. Since it is my first book, my writing is not going to be as good as everyone else's. Hopefully I decide to stick to writing this book. School is starting up for me (August 21st) so I won't be able to update as often as it would like too. Just so you are aware, this prologue is going to be short. I don't know how short though. Maybe one of these days i'll come back and add more. Don't forget to vote and comment! Have a beautiful day or night ❥

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Hi, my name is Harlow Mason and my life sucks. My life consists of being depressed, eating, going to school, or the hellhole as I would call it, and sleeping. Why did God have to give me this horrible life. He should just kill me off and send me to hell. It would be better than constantly being depressed anyways. As you can see, there is no family bonding time in my life list at all.

Yeah, I don't have a good relationship with my father. We talk here and there, eat dinner together but that's it. There's no hugging, forehead kisses or any of that cheesy stuff. Well, at least not anymore. Not after my mom left. I was 10 when it happened. I'm 17 now.

So, 7 years ago. I remember that night like it was yesterday. Both my mom and dad were distraught, nearly ripping their hair out of their heads. It was a screaming match downstairs, one challenging the other to see who could be louder. I was peeking at them on the stairs, looking through the stair railings and straight into the kitchen and through the open door. Dark tears were streaking down her face, landing on her cream colored blouse, the same one she wore to work that day. My eyebrows furrowed, seeing as her white-knuckled hand was clutching a black bag. "Why would she need that?" I wondered.

"I can't stay here and let her go through this mess. She's too young." Mom declared, waving her free hand around in the air. Mess? I stared at the fuming couple with an intriguing gaze. My brain calculated a thousand different "messes" my parents could possibly get me into.

"Then why do you think I'm trying to fix this?" My dad gruffly questioned. He seemed more angry than sad at this point, his hand tightly squeezing the marble counter.

"Fix this? You call us getting at each others throats, practically ripping both our hairs out, fixing it?" Mom was fuming. Hot, gasoline tears dribbled down their faces, igniting the fire even more.

Dad shakes his head, lifting his hand to his forehead rubbing it in circular motions. Sighing mom tiredly muttered, "Haven't you thought, well maybe we're not meant to be together? If our time's up?" Dad replies nodding his head. He hates to have to agree. The kitchen was silent except for the heavy breathing of mom and dad. Dad puts head in his hands, sitting down on a bar stool located at the marble counter. The sound of keys jingling makes dad shoot his head up.

"Where are you going" Dad's eyes are wide.

"Two broken people can't love each other, Trey." Mom shakes her head, treading to the door, clutching her black bag tightly in her hand.

"Yeah, but what about Harlow?" You can feel the air thickening.

"She'll be fine." Mom ushers dismissively, opening the door.

"Fine?! Are you delusional? She's 10!" Dad reasons.

"But she's at an age where she can deal with it." Mom replies, stepping out the door. My heart races, lungs heavy. My hands are clutched to my chest, shaking with anxiety. Why is mom leaving? Despite what my body says, I sit there.

"Know what? fine. leave."

"Goodbye Trey." She says and then she's out. My brain completely shuts off after that, like dad's legs as he falls to the ground, loud tears soon follow suit. Not knowing what to do, I race up the stained wood planks. I don't care if he hears me or not. I just wobble to my bed, my escape world and just cry—like I did for the next 6 years, day and night, until I'm numb.

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A/N: So, yeah I finally finished this part after like 5 months...yeah tragic. Should I make a playlist for this book? Comment below.