"It's impossible!"
I tell myself that everyday.
It's not possible. Or, at least, I don't believe it is.
I flopped onto the floor next to my backpack I threw on the ground.
I don't care anymore. Except... I do care.
But I try not to.
I checked the clock. School ended an hour ago and I needed to be away from people. I could drown in my own misery alone. With no one to bother me.
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My foster mom knocked on my bedroom door, "Harmony, you want something to eat?"
"No, thank you," I say, avoiding the word mom. Mom—the word hurts. Mine is in jail- so is my dad. I guess my foster parents are nicer than most. Not like it makes the hurt less bad. I tell myself that I'm just pretending to miss them, that I just want to find a reason to make myself look sad, so other people might comfort me.
I don't know why I care about my real parents. In fact, I almost hate them too much to care. But even though I want to be angry, the hurt is greater. I can't begin to be angry. Plus, I reserve my anger for another person.
To forget everything and not care would be freeing. But to forget everything? It's impossible.
YOU ARE READING
Scars from the Impossible
Teen FictionIt's Impossible! Thats what Harmony and Liam have always told themselves... It's impossible-- to forget... to forgive... to win... to love... But when will they learn that just because it seems impossible doesn't mean it really is? --- Co-written wi...
