- Reads 25
- Votes 3
- Parts 3
- Time 11m
Ongoing, First published Feb 03, 2016
My life was a routine. A comfortable, boring routine. It worked, I liked it. Then my dad decided to kill himself, and my mom then decided to shack up with some rich douche. This rich douche had a son and his son had friends. One of those friends made life suck a bit less for me. But also was making my routine fall apart. But then again, routines were for kids with dads who didn't kill themselves. - This description sucks on account of me writing it up in three measly minutes. Similar to my not even close to finished novel Broken with Hope, because I'm doing this for a project and I was out of good ideas. Shh, no one has to know.All Rights Reserved
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