Rewrite

Chapter 1// Let Me Explain

Do you ever wish that you could go back and redo something? Or go back to the past and undo what has already happened? Maybe even rewrite it? I certainly do.

Let me explain.

I was born in Seattle, Washington where rain is abundant and you can't go two feet without seeing some kind of art thrown in your face. Born as an only child, I had a pretty good childhood. But, at the age of 8 the doctors found a abnormally large brain tumor lodged into my mother's head. Within further investigation they soon concurred that it was cancer. She was told that she only had a 6 of months to live. With that mindset, my mother made the best of it. We traveled as much as humanly possible in her condition, we made memories I will never forget, and we laughed and smiled. But as the few months she had went on, it dawned on her that these are her last months she will ever experience. My mother slipped into a dark, scary state. Within her last month or so she became extremely ill. With me only being 8, I never understood why mommy was so sad and sick all the time. It broke my heart. My mother died on September 17, 2007, the day of my 9th birthday. Great present right?

So, that left my father and I. Most fathers would try and be the best role model for their kids. Especially after one of the most important people in their lives are gone. But not mine. He turned to drugs and alcohol. He was gone most nights and only came home for a few hours of the day. In other words, I was left to fend for myself. I learned a lot for a 9 year old. I learned how to get to and from school, how to cook for myself and clean for myself; counting that my house would of been a hell hole if I didn't clean it. I also learned how to build a wall around myself. No one was to be let in. My mother was dead. My father was a druggie and alcoholic. What else was I suppose to do?

As the years went on, I got older and my father got further and further away from me. I was forced to get a job and pay for things myself. It's to the point where he doesn't come home for months and he just sends me checks in the mail. Don't ask me where he gets the money, I'm just grateful that he sends it.

Now, a junior in high school, I'm still obligated to fend for myself in this giant, crazy world. But I try to stop the thought of this universe ripping me to shreds diminish me.

•

I groan as the sunlight cuts through the slit in my blinds. Trying to burry my head deeper into my pillows, I eventually give up. Getting up and throwing my sweater on, I head downstairs to get breakfast. Looking at my bare pantry and fridge reminds me that I need to go grocery shopping. Badly. Blowing a piece of brown hair out of my face and deciding to just go to my usual coffee shop for breakfast, I race up the stairs to get dressed. I throw on my light wash skinny jeans with a white tank top. Tying my long, brown hair up in a messy bun and slipping on my white converse, I run back downstairs. I grab my purse and sweater and rush myself out the door to my 2014 Chevy Malibu.

As I drive down the road it dawns on me what day it is. I fumble to find my phone and make sure I'm correct on the date. September 17.

"September 17.", I whisper to myself.

My birthday or otherwise known, my mother's death date. I feel my heartbeat start to increase. My hands fumble as I reach for my turn signal and turn into my usual coffee shop. I take deep breaths before getting out. After I calmed down I climb out and walked into my favorite place in the world.

My favorite place, or also known as Coffee Republic (or Republic), is your classic, obscure, run-of-the-mill corner coffee house. It's also the place where I make my living. So, my heaven.

"Kalista!", yells Lauren, popping up from the counter.

Meet Lauren Morgan. Your classic outgoing, spunky redhead, and my one and only best friend. She's the only person that I ever let in my wall.