Wasting Her Life Away

• Charlotte Creedy, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2013

She wandered and wandered, not really knowing where she was going.

She had decided her legs could take her whereever they want to. She was bored and alone on this quiet, cold July night. Her dad had left for the afternoon-late night shift at the 24/7 grocery. It made for income, but not a lot. Her mother was a recovering alcoholic, who had been in rehab for a month now - she never really cared for her daughters though.

She had been wandering for quite a bit now, and the darkness was gaining its mileage in the sky. She thought it would be best to go home... but what has she got to go back to? The sad sight of her fourteen-year-old sister not speaking, barely moving, watching TV? She thought she’d stay out for a while instead.

Trees started to crowd in around her, and small glints of the sunset shone through like the sky was being dyed. She looked up - nothing but the dark green canopy of the forest. She looked down - nothing but the crumpled leaves of when people had trekked here before. She was truly alone. It was silent except for the faint chirping of a bird. She chuckled now, a little bit maddened by the non-existent noise.

Funny, isn't it? How just the calming sight of the forest and the quiet chirp of a bird. She saw the clearing at the end, symbolic of a light at the end of a tunnel. But, beyond that, a wire fence (didn’t appear to be electric) and a building. The building was painted a cream colour, but age had worn the exterior away to a light brown.

She recognised this building as quick as light. It was the rehab centre. As she got closer and closer to this building, she saw the adjoining units where the patients were situated. She was still in the forest, however, and a rustle to her right made her jump in fright.

“Oh my god!” She exclaimed, quite loudly.

The rustling stopped shortly after. A wave of whispers were echoed lightly, but she could not make out what their words were.

One of them sounded like her mother.

She peered around, looking for signs of life. She saw a beer being passed. Ironic - outside of an alcoholic rehabilitation centre - for future knowledge, it is called Sea Pines Rehabilitation Alcohol Unit (SPRAU).

She recognised the tired, long hair with split ends. It was a deep red colour, patchy because of home dye. It was her mothers’.

“No...” A single tear rolled down her cheek.

She was there with two other females and one male, still wearing the disgusting, old, musty pyjamas they are meant to.

The girl rushed over and yelled at her mother.

“How the hell could you do this?!” She scowled with utter sadness.

“...Scarlett, how did you find this place?”

“I ran and ran. But now, here I am. Watching you waste your life.”