Baby steps

     "Drink it, drink it, drink it!" The football team cheered as I tilted my head backwards and swallowed the throat burning alcohol. Then I smashed the cup on the counter, looking at the boys with a dizzied smirk.     "For the team and for our future matches, let's win them all and become better with each passing year!"     Glasses clinked against each other,

 I was strumming my guitar when the edges of my fringes brushed against my eyelids and made me realize two things: my hair was growing long and I needed a haircut; and my eyes were getting tired and I needed to take a break. So I put the guitar in my lap and secured it between the handles of my wheelchair and my arms, starting to move back towards the house. But when I turned around and saw Ryder leaned against the door frame watching me, I stopped stuck in my track. I remembered the time our team went camping. At night we all sat around this huge bonfire while telling stories, joking around and simply getting wasted. Then th

You would believe one would be more lenient with their disabled child… not my parents. My phone, laptop, ipad and guitar got confiscated for two weeks, I couldn’t watch TV, nor use my xbox, and they denied buying me any snacks. They were treating me like a little child getting grounded for punching his middle school classmate. It wasn’t me who told Ryder to climb on the roof or to get scratched on his cheek. My only fault was that I left muddy trails on the carpet after entering the house with my dirty wheelchair. But again, I think my fathers’ goal was not to punish me, but rather to make me “bond” with Ryder. After they told me that “You act like a little kid, you get punished like one”, my dad also implied that now when I had no distractions, I might get to know Ryder better and actually befriend him.

      One more hour on the road and we reached Kathy's home. She lived in an apartment building, in a penthouse which had this huge pool outside its equally huge living room. I remembered her old flat had the kitchen, living room and bedroom all in one. They bought all the things they had now after her husband, Greg, signed a contact with a famous magazine as a photographer, although I doubt it was the contract and not some trickery which brought him all those money. Greg was known for having a gambling dependence, but I guessed it mattered to Kathy only when her husband lost, not when he won. Then she turned oblivious to his wrongs. I focused my gaze back on the bui

This chapter contains triggering subjects. Reader discretion is advised.       I was spinning, my hands held on cold iron bars and head tilted backwards, watching the cloudy morning sky. I was around seven years old, mindlessly playing in the merry-go-rounds while my dad watched me from a bench in the park. The playground was almost empty, the only sound spearing the air being the creak of the rusty hinges. Creak which got louder and louder almost making you believe the screws were crying. Then I realized it wasn't them who were crying. I could hear real sobs and sniffs coming from inside a playhouse. So I jumped from the still spinning merry-go-rounds