The Unknown Chapter One "You can't take my child!" my mother screamed. "I have rights over her!" I was standing in the door way, my father clutching onto my arm. "Give her back you bastard!" she tried to get off the couch, but my Aunt was restraining her. She quickly grabbed a empty beer bottle off the coffee table, and hurled it at my father. But she missed and hit the door, shards of glass went flying onto the floor. But one rebounded of the doorknob and ripped the soft flesh on the palm of my hand. I tightly clenched my fist to ease the sharp pain it caused. I looked at my mother, my usually sweet, loving mother, but now she was a completely different person. Always yelling and fighting with people. My father tugged on my arm and pulled me out the door before another bottle came flying in our direction. My father walked around to his grey Ford Eescape, getting into the drivers seat. I pulled the heavy door open, and climbed in. All the way home I begged my father to tell me why mom wasn't coming home. And his reply was the same every time; "she'll be home soon, honey." Being seven, I wasn't sure what to think, why was my mother acting so strangly? Every night after that moment, I cried myself to sleep, hoping for my mothers arrival the following day. But after four years of that, I figured that all the praying and wishing wasn't working, so I stopped. I stopped crying every night and learnt to bottle up all my emotions. It's now been ten years since that horrid day, and still no sign of my mother. I now know the reason she acted like that, she was an alcoholic. I still miss her though, I have a lot of memories of her, before she started drinking. I look down at my scarred hand, I've tried so many times to forget, but since there's a permanent scar on my body I can't. I have tried multiple times to find out where she is now, what she's doing, if she has a new family and where she lives. But the Internet has been no help at all, and that was my best bet. So I just gave up all together, I have to move on. At least I have all those memories, minus the one when we parted ways. I lazily picked my self up, and swung my legs off the side of my plush mattress. I hopped onto the carpeted floor and walked down the hall way. As I was walking I could here my father and Lisa once again fighting. Their fights usually get pretty bad, ever since my father found her cheating on him, things have gotten pretty out of hand. I don't why my father won't just divorce her, shes not loyal or loving at all. But he claims he "loves" her. If that's what love is, I sure don't want to get involved. I snuck past the two fighting, because they almost always find a way to drag me into it, and Lisa usually blames it on me. I walked into the kitchen and pulled a bowl out of the cubbaord and a box of cereal. I poured some milk in and sat in the dining room. I savoured every bite, knowing this was going to be my only meal for the day if my father worked tonight. I finished, and set the bowl in the dishwasher and quickly snuck back to my bedroom to get changed. I grabbed my book bag and swung it over my shoulder then walked out to wait for the bus. "Hey Linds!" someone called from behind. I jumped at the suddenness. I turned around to see Greg heading towards me. "hey." I said greeting him with a friendly smile. He leans against the cross walk sign, and looks down the street. "Looks like the bus is late again." he remarked standing straight. "I should've driven." "In your old truck? Would it even make it to the school?" I asked jokingly. "yes. It's not that old." Greg hates when I say bad things about his truck, which just makes it all the more fun. I hear the loud rumble of the school bus coming up the street. It slowly stops making a loud screeching noise. The doors are opened by a old man wearing a bright orange vest and a blue ball cap. We both climb on and search for the closest available seats. I race Greg to get the window seat and win. As I sit, I sink down into the collapsed cushion, and Greg sits next me making us sink even lower. "My truck is better than this." Greg mumbled. "I have to admit, it is a lot better than this bus." I said. It's true, this bus Is horrible. Almost all the kids on it are druggies and are always smoking something in the back, which makes the whole bus stink. And the kids in the front are always screaming or picking their noses. And then the kids in the middle are the nerds, the ones who have their heads in books, studying for an upcoming quiz. That's where Greg and I always end up. It's the best place to sit in my opinion, you don't get a 24 year old grade twelve failed student asking you if you want some ecstasy. Or a sick eight year old sneezing on you. Just some awkwardly social people who are always studying. Finally the bus pulls into the school drop off and we all start filling out. This is the worst part about the bus, this is when everyone is pushing you and rubbing up against you, you're considered extremely lucky to get off first. Greg and I walk through all the students in the school yard sitting around, and into the crowded Hall's of Gould High. The halls are pretty much the same as the bus, it's all sectioned off. But here, there are more categories. The "popular" girls, who take up the water fountain, the jocks who always wait outside the girls locked room, the nerds who sit by the doors, and the druggies, who stray around the washroom. I say goodbye to Greg, and push my way through the people to get to my locker. I finally succeed, and make it. I quickly turn the lock to the numbers and open it. I stuff my book bag in bottom shelf and pull out a single text book. I slam shut my locker and head off to my first class; Math.