Here is Chapter 1, I have till chapter 3. Is it good? :) Thanks.
“I’ll meet you guys later… how about 7:30?” Veronica said slamming her locker door shut.
“Sorry, can’t I’m babysitting tonight.” I said as I closed mine. The locker door bounced back open. “Urg! These lockers suck!” I got tired of the lockers at my under-funded school. I kicked the locker door shut, and this time it stayed shut.
“Tense much?” Monique said
“Yea. This morning, I had the worst fight with my mom, I never even said goodbye this morning… actually, the last thing I said was I hate you.”
“Harsh” They both said at the same time. They were always so in sync.
“I never get any say in anything! This is the fourth time I’ve moved, and as soon as you start to like people, you get dragged away and you lose touch, and it’s like your old best friend is another stranger.” I said hopelessly. We pushed through the front doors of the school, but for some reason, something came over me… I knew what was coming, and I knew my face was probably red. I swallowed the tears, and turned my face away from them. I couldn’t make a fool of myself. I still need to make a good impression, since it’s only my second week at this school.
“I better go. Bye guys!” I said, and I began to walk quickly to my car. As soon as I could get my hand on the wheel, I was out of the parking lot and out on the street. Now I didn’t hold back, I let the tears fall. I’ve never said such harsh words to my mother, but today, simply over when I get to date, I said those sharp words.
The words kept echoing in my head. I hate you! Each time those words came to mind, I felt as if I was being cut. Not only was I miserable, my sadness, turned into rage. I was not angry with my mother, for I was angry with myself for shouting such ugly, disrespectful words at her.
I pulled into the driveway, filled with depression and sorrow. I put my key into the door, opened the door so fast it almost fell off the hinges.
“Mom! I’m so sorry! Please, find it in your heart to forgive me!” I waited for a response, at this point; I would have been more pleased with a no, than no response at all. I waited in the porch, waited for some words to shout back at me.
“Mom? Please!” I dropped my bag and ran into the kitchen with my muddy shoes still on. “Mom, I know I hurt you, but I promise you, I’m sorry!”
I ran through the house, looking for her, I wanted to wrap my arms around her and beg her for forgiveness. I opened doors and ran threw different rooms. I ran downstairs, and got to the bathroom, I noticed the carpet around the bathroom was soaked. “MOM?” I screamed, again I had to response. I threw open the door, almost slipping on the wet tile floor. At first glance, everything looked normal, but as I looked at the floor, out arose a blood-curling scream. Sprawled on the floor, face down, was my mother. I turned her over, and held her and cried. Those horrible words again slipped into my mind. I hate you. I hate you. I help her close, pushing the hair off her face, I love you. I love you. I shut off the water from the bathtub, I went to carry her to the sofa, but knew better than to move her from the position she was in or I could injure her more. I called an ambulance. I knew then that I would just have to sit tight. It only took ten minutes for the ambulance to get there, but it was the longest ten minutes I’ve ever lived through. Police officers tried to talk to me, but all I could ended up doing was crying, and making horrible sounds. The worst sound I heard that day, was a woman, one who I did not know, but she spoke seven words, seven words, that will scare me for life.
“Missy, Your mother did not make it.”
I spent that night, at the hospital, crying. And I didn’t care this time who saw me. I couldn’t take back my words. My mother died thinking I hated her. She died thinking she had no one left anymore. After my father passed away, and she lost her job. She had no one left but me, and I had no one else but her. And by saying those three ghastly words, she died thinking no one would even remember her. I cried, until a doctor came into the room.
“I am terribly sorry for your loss.” He spoke in a deep manly voice. There was a long pause “But you must leave the hospital room, there have been some complaints. If you’d like, you may stay in the lobby as long as you need.” I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I closed my mouth and nodded, with out taking a second glance at the doctor; I picked up my bag, a box of tissues, and walked out of the room. As I walked down a bland hallway, I passed a large glass window, on which someone painted in bright pink and blue letters “Nursery”, I looked inside to see sleeping babies, and proud couples staring at their little bundles of joy. Tons of couples where there, but, one stood out. The lady looked exactly like my mother. I stared at her. She had the same short, curly, brown hair, with a

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7 Responses to “I Started Book, Is It Good Enough That I Should Continue?”
  1. Anonymous says:

    You’re story is SUPER good just don’t let things fly by too fast. Try making the story more believeable, as if it could happen. It felt as if one moment high school was with her friends like a normal day and the next moment its like an emotional piece which I totally like about your story! Keep it going; I was absolutely interested the whole way through.

  2. Kitty says:

    I like your writing style a lot and the story seems interesting.

  3. twinkle toes says:

    That’s really good! Keep writing more!

  4. luckymeh says:

    i love it….what is it called
    when it is published ill buy a copy!!!!!

  5. lam3a says:
  6. agga says:

    i think its okay, what is this book called ?

  7. Ren C says:

    I personally don’t like this..at all. I’ve read better fan fiction.
    The main character is not very believable and it is difficult for me to visualize or empathize with the main character. I would mature your vocabulary and make your story interesting, because it seems very predictable and banal.
    Also, the main character seems very immature and rather annoying.. Not to mention, melodramatic. You should make the reader connect with the protagonist and be able to relate.

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