"(Name)!!!!!!" your mother's voice called from downstairs, dragging you from your deep slumber. You groaned and rolled out of bed knowing very well that you were late again.
'Ugh...... Why does the world hate me?' you thought as you walked over to your dresser and pulled out some random clothes. Looking down you saw that you pulled out a black t-shirt and dark blue jeans. Swiftly, you changed out of your sleep shirt (an over-sized t-shirt) and shorts before brushing your (hair color) hair out and tying it back in a ponytail.
Almost falling down the stairs, you drowsily made your way into the kitchen where your mother was serving up breakfast and your nine-year-old brother, Remington, was writing in his journal.
"Good morning, (Name). You'll be late for counseling again if you don't hurry," your mother told you.
"Good morning, Mom......" you yawned.
"(Name), why do you go to counseling?" your little brother asked.
"I..... Remi, I have anger issues........ But so do you........ I don't see why Mom doesn't make you see an anger management counselor yet......" you muttered in response.
"Because he's still a little kid," your mother said some-what harshly, "(Name), get going. NOW."
"Fine.... See ya...." you said before walking out the door.
'Damn...... Why does he get it easy? I had to take anger management when I was seven for crying out loud! Why doesn't he have to? His anger issues are worse than mine have ever been!' you thought angrilly as you walked down the street towards the brick building where your counselor was waiting.
As you walked into the room where Eleanor (your counselor) was, you felt a chill run down your spine.....something was wrong......... REALLY wrong.
