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Title: the diary





the church bells rang the same ring they always do but behind that ring was a sad death. a 16 year old girl had died three weeks ago and this was her funeral. before she died she had thrown her diary out her window into the forest that she lived in. she had taken her own life in one of her meth indused depressions. there was a man walking in the forest, wh was 15 and was running from home. he was hit in the head by the diary that the girl had thrown. he picked it up and stared at its black leather cover as her rubbed the spot were it hit him. he walked into her town after escaping his home that wasthousands of miles away. he lived with his narcotic aunt who knew nothing of child care after his parents had died in a car accident. he thought he would do better on his own so he ran away after packing for the trip. he walked to the home agency of the town and with the money his parents had left him he bought his own home. it was a two story with 13 bedrooms and 4 bathrooms and 2 kitchens. it was better then any house he had ever seen in his life. he picked biggest room witch was the last room down the giant hall on the second floor. he layed on the bed throwing his backpack on the bed next to him when the diary fell out. he grabbed it and examined it again. he flipped threw the diary not reading it but noticing every page was filled out. he turned to the first page and read. "this is the last thing any one will here from me, to who ever is in posetion of this diary i tell you that my story is a sad one. everything you are about to read is true, nothing was fabricated or exagerated. i needed to write this so that someone would know my story." he flipped the page and read the heading of the next page. || march 18th, i woke up and saw it was raining outside. i streched sitting in my bed with my white nightgown on when i heard loud angry footsteps coming up the stairs. then my dad burst threw the door with a bottle of yager in his hand. he had started drinking earlier then usual. he came over to me and yelled at me for not being dressed and i told i just woke up. he thought i was smart mouthing him so he smacked me to the ground and left telling me to get dressed. i coughed up some blood and treid getting up when i heard footsteps. he came back for a second round i thought so i layed there. then i heard his voice "man, that drunken a*****e got you didnt he. if we didnt need him i would beat him to a pulp" i looked up and my brother who was born 9 months after me stood there smiling at me. he kneeled down and helped me up. "lets get you cleaned up, shall we"