So this is the first draft of my novel, [name_u]Rain[/name_u] or Shine (still working on the title) and these are a few different peices from the novel. I hope you like it and keep in mind that it is only the first draft so if you don’t like something, your more than welcome to speak up it’s not gonna hurt my feelings. Feedback always welcome! -Thanks, [name_u]Dani[/name_u].
Fidgeting with the zipper on my sweatshirt, my mother knocks on the door.”[name_f]Eve[/name_f], it’s time for your appointment.” I shutter at the sound of my name. [name_f]Eve[/name_f]. Who in their right mind would ever give someone a name like [name_f]Eve[/name_f]? It’s so bland and boring and all it does is remind me of christmas, that’s why I try to avoid wearing the colours red and gree. I respond to my mother with a simple “K, coming.” [name_f]My[/name_f] mom has been taking me to therapy since I was thirteen because she was ‘worried’ about my social skills. And my clueless therapist [name_f]Heidi[/name_f] thinks she knows everything about me but if i’m being honest she doesn’t know shit. “[name_f]Eve[/name_f] let’s go” [name_f]My[/name_f] mother yells again. I sigh and walk down the hall as I stare at the smoke covered walls from my mother’s cigarettes over the years. I slip on some dirty old sneakers that i’ve had for years and we walk out the door.
Mom stops at [name_f]Heidi[/name_f]’s office. I look at my blank face in the reflection of the car window. [name_f]Heidi[/name_f] sees me before I have a chance to knock on her door. “Well hello there [name_f]Eve[/name_f]!” [name_f]Heidi[/name_f] says in her southern accent.I look at the ground. One of the gross sneakers is untied but I don’t feel like tying it, I just want to get this over with. [name_f]My[/name_f] mom waves goodbye and gets back in the car, driving away without even looking back. [name_f]Heidi[/name_f] motiones me into the all too familiar office and I sit in the same chair that I have every saturday for the last two years, three months and eleven days at 2p.m.
“So how are you today [name_f]Eve[/name_f]?” [name_f]Heidi[/name_f] asks looking me in the eyes.
I’ve always felt awkward when making eye contact with someone.
“Fine.”
“Have you made any new friends?”
“No.”
“How are you getting along with your mother?”
“Fine.”
“[name_f]Eve[/name_f], you’re going to have to say something other than ‘no’ and ‘fine’.”
“No actually I don’t. I don’t have to say anything to you.”
Heidi goes silent and all you can hear is the ticking of the clock.
“[name_m]Can[/name_m] I leave now?”
“[name_f]Eve[/name_f], it’s only been five minutes”
“Well I want to go.”
“ [name_f]Eve[/name_f], tell me about the relationship you had with your father.”
“What does my father have to do with anything? He’s dead. There is nothing to say.”
“[name_f]Eve[/name_f], I’m trying to help you.”
“I DON’T NEED YOUR HELP! I DON’T NEED ANYTHING FROM YOU!”
I yell at [name_f]Heidi[/name_f], but that just makes me feel worse.
“GET OUT!” [name_f]Heidi[/name_f] yells back, pointing at the door, “GET OUT NOW EVE!”
“But-”
I stutter, but it feels like there is only hot air coming out of mouth.
“Ok, I’ll go. Sorry [name_f]Heidi[/name_f].”
I expected [name_f]Heidi[/name_f] to answer but she didn’t and I walked out of her office with my head down and waited in the parking lot hoping my mom would be back soon.
Everytime my mom and I pull into the driveway of our 1978 mobile home, I get chills. Not only do I have the most boring name in the universe, but when you live in a town full of rich kids that literally live in mansions and you live in the trashiest place in the town, it doesn’t exactly help your self esteem. I find myself a lot, being ashamed of where I live. I really do think that the place could be nice if my mom cared enough to get out of that stupid rocking chair in the living room and stopped filling up full of junk food and getting heavier by the minute.
I walk through the door that is basically falling off the hinges at this point. I walk down the hall and enter my room. [name_f]My[/name_f] pink walls are looking more pink than ever. But not a pretty pink, literally the ugliest pink possible is on my walls. And just so we’re clear, I’m not over exaggerating.
I sit down on my mattress that is laying on the floor and look at my ceiling. After a moment my mom walks in…
