Day 1: life in hell

This is the day I hope to forget.

It was just as bad as I imagined. Maybe worse. Mom, dad, Andy, and I piled into the car at some ungodly hour of the morning. They were kind enough to take me to Jenny’s Diner in town for my last meal. I ordered everything. Pancakes, french toast, ham and chese omlette, bacon, sausage, toast, hash browns, orange juice, coffee.

Dad huffed loudly at the ridiculousness of it. Mom shuffled to cover her embarrassment as I relayed my meal request to the waitress. But they said nothing–which was a good thing because I was ready with all kind of retort if they had. It was enough food to feed our entire family, rather than my five-foot-two petite frame, but I didn’t care. For once, the waste and the gluttony didn’t matter. I needed consolation for the life in hell I was about to endure.

When I was half finished, dad got up and went to wait in the car. Why he was worried about being late when it was me that would take the rap, I had no idea. The waitress came and asked if I would like a box. Mom answered for me. Another smart move. The waitress was probably in her mid-twenties. Just old enough to be free. It wasn’t her fault that soon I wouldn’t be. But I wanted to hate her anyway. I hated everyone today.