Fran Bow

My Sober Day pt 4

(my sober day is never going to be finished lmao)

The nurse sighed. She seemed angry at what I had said. Perhaps she had actually believed me. "Well I have to go find something to fix this, all thanks to you you little... you little..." It seemed she couldn't find the right word to say. That or she didn't want to say the word she was thinking. "...girl", she decided. She mumbled something under her breath and walked off without another word. That nurse sure is mean.

It was finally my time to snoop. I waited until she was fully out the door and scampered sneakily over to her desk. There lay a tin of band-aids, a book open to a page with some kind of skull on it, a paper with a bunch of numbers and letters (oooh maybe it was a letter), and an old cup of dark, smelly coffee, just like the kind my daddy used to drink. I put the bandages in my purse, as Ella Grace tends to scratch the skin off of her hands. She hates how red and scabby they always look; maybe if I give these to her, I can help her feel better about herself. She deserves it. She's very nice, and pretty, too. What was I saying? Oh yeah, I decided to read the page with the skull on it:

Violent trauma can have a great impact on children, totally changing their normal lives. For example, children damaged by trauma can have mild to severe deficits in some abilities, such as:

Trusting people near them; seeing the world as a safe place; making decisions, etc.

Because of these effects, some traumas can lead to several symptoms of major mental illness. For example: Not trusting other people or not feeling safe in the world.

This can be interpreted as paranoia.

The page gave me shivers. I felt bad for whoever had to deal with this. I hope they get better soon... The other page with the skull didn't scare me that much. It just had a little labeled drawing. It was nice. It reminded me of a turtle. I wanted to tear it out and put it in my purse for safe keeping, but that would be stealing.

I couldn't read the note, because it was written in scribbly handwriting. Adults always seem to write that way. At the bottom there was a bunch of numbers and letters. The number "8" and letter "H" were both circled. Maybe that meant something, like some sort of code! I was getting good at this. I opened the drawer, cautious not to pull too hard, and peered inside. There was a small box with a four digit code. How peculiar..? Again I couldn't resist and shoved it in my purse. It was nearly filled to the brim, so I need to be careful with what I put in there. Only the important things, I thought to myself. Only the important things.

The only other thing was something about the size of an adult's hand, which was about twice the size of mine. My parents always used to tease me about how small my hands were. It was covered in a messily folded teal cloth. I peeled the fabric away, and there lay a handgun. My eyes widened at the thought of the nurse pressing it onto the temple of a kid she didn't particularly enjoy. Tears welled in my eyes and I folded back the cloth. I tried to make it look as natural as possible, but I don't think I did a good job.

As I walked back to my bed, I took the locked box out of my purse. It had four letters to it: H, I, D, E. Hmm. Interesting. I suddenly remembered that the 8 and the H were supposed to go with each other, like friends! I put in H - 8, and remembered something again. My old schoolteacher taught me a song to remember the letters of the alphabet. A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I... I is 9! And D is 4 and E is 5! I put in the code,and it worked! Happy birthday to me! And what I saw in the box I almost couldn't believe my eyes... 

A/N:

that cliffhanger though wow I know I'm a great writer. I hope you little noobs are happy. I had exams today so yayayay no homework for me! I'll try to write a new chapter every day but tbh that probably won't happen :// Anyway, thanks for reading my little disciples!

-Emilala School Shooter