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    If you were to visit the residence at 145 Melrose Drive, you wouldn’t find much more then a small house holding a certain Mrs. Dawkins and her daughter Sandy Elaine. This small family isn’t rich, nor are they famous. Just two women living in their world as well as they can. From first glance, they are as plain and un-interesting as can be.
    I do hope you are the kind of person who looks twice.

    Part 1
    Only the Good Die Young ~ Billy Joel

    “My dad died when I was 9. He was drunk and made a decision that many un-wise drunkards make, simply driving a few blocks home. Lewis Dawkins had always been a wonderful father to me, and his one night of recklessness cost him everything. We were scared, so we went to look for him, and we found him all right. Wrapped around a tree, a policeman surveying the seen. Then and there I vowed never to drink, and then and there my mother began to.” The counselor stared at me in wonder. Maybe because she’d never heard such a story, maybe because I’d told this story so many times that I knew it by heart and could do it without shedding a single tear. Maybe because I was her first “patient”, maybe because she was just plane dumb. I’ll never truly know.
    “Sandy, have you ever talked to a therapist about this?” She looked at me innocently, so I forgave her ignorance.
    “Yeah, a bunch actually, it should say something in my file…” Okay, so maybe I didn’t completely forgive her, but I understood it, all the same. “Excuse me miss, pardon my curiosity, but why was I pulled in today?”
    “Well, we were worried about you. Someone claimed to have seen scars on your wr-“
    “There’s nothing wrong with my wrists. “ I rolled up the sleeves of my hoodie vigorously and showed her my perfect, un-tarnished wrists. “See! They are completely in tact, and anyone who says other wise should ask before speaking up about something they don’t know anything about.” Okay, so you probably think I over reacted, but the first boy I ever thought I loved slit his wrists, and when his mother and father got divorced he killed himself. I’ll never forget it, and this stupid prissy lady thinks she knows about me and my supposed “teen depression”. I’m sure she had a lovely childhood.
    For a long while she just looked at me like she was trying not to tell me that I was simply crazy, then she finally spoke. “Sandy, I think we made real… progress today, in me learning about you. Come back if you need to.”
    “Sure. I’m going back to class. Bye.” By the time I said that, I had grown cold and hard. I didn’t want to go back to class and have people ask why I had to go in, who I was fighting with.
    After a while you’d think your classmates would catch on to the fact that new counselors love to hear a good sob story.

    (Tell me what you think, part two coming out soon hopefully!)