Saved by a Dog.

Chapter 1 What a life

Walking down those cramp hallways every morning; the same routine. I would walk past her and her clique and hear the terrible names they'd call me. Little did anyone know that these names were breaking me down; chiseling each brick of the wall I had created around me. I was depressed and couldn't stand living this life anymore. You would too if you had to put up with this life: A drunk dad yelling at the top of his lungs at two in the morning, a backstabbing "friend", counselors and therapists that kept telling you to "just be happy", but that wasn't enough.

The bell rang releasing kids from every direction. I used the back door, so I wouldn't be run into or trampled by ongoing traffic. But there she was, Margaret Jackson, my ex-best friend. She was standing by that door smirking and waiting for me like some kind of predator waiting for its prey. I tried getting out the door and had almost made it, but I felt a jerk on my back pack so strong that I flew a little. It must of surprised them because as I looked back and they were staring at each other, probably wondering how this "fat" girl they had been tormenting was so light. They looked at me and Margaret said in such a squeaky and annoying voice, "Gimme your lunch money or I'll punch you!" Like that really scared me off. I knew that I could punch harder and run faster than all those prissy girls combined. I knew they wouldn't want to break a nail. I giggled at the thought of them breaking a nail, they'd be screaming and crying and if just be laughing. Wasn't a good idea to giggle though.

They grabbed me and threw me against the cold lockers against one wall of the hallway. They grabbed my bags and emptied them while another punched me in the stomach, almost making me puke all over them. I saw them tearing up papers that they found in my bag: homework assignments, art work, and even photographs of my old dog lucky. That's when I couldn't bare it any longer. I scrambled from her grip and punched Margaret right between the eyes; she went down like a log. Her friends just stared at me and backed off like I was some kind of crazy person. I gathered up my things and headed home, which I didn't really want to do either but I had no where else to go.

I got home and it was quiet, except for the snoring of a yet again highly intoxicated father. My brother Alex was motioning his hand for me to quietly come to his room at the beginning of the hallway. He was only thing keeping me sane in this terrible world. I crept past my father in his beat up leather recliner and found myself in Alex's room. It was trashed! His dresser had fallen to the floor, his chair flung on his bed, bed sheets and clothing sprawled across the floor. I just gave him one look and I knew. It was dad. I couldn't believe that Alex had to go through one of dad's mental breakdowns alone. We put ourselves to bed and I turned out the lights; I was going to put a blanket on my father, but I didn't dare wake him. I just went to my room at the end of the hallway and slipped into my pajamas. I couldn't sleep very well without Lucky. He had saved me from the sadness of my mother dieing. Now all I wanted was to run away or die.