Zoe, Her Father, and The Guys, chapter 1
"Mom, don't go. Please?" I begged before the police dragged her off.
"Zoe, forget about me. You will go to the orphanage and your real father will pick you up within six weeks." she commanded
"Mom, why did you do it? You wouldn't have to go!" I said through tears.
"He was going to kill you and me. So I beat him to the punch line. Just to protect you. He wasn't your real father. Your real father will pick you up at the orphanage within six weeks. Now go." she explained quickly.
"Ma'am, time to go. Your daughter will be taken care of. I assure you," the officer said. He helped my mom slide into the back seat of the police car.
"Bye mom," I said as another officer grabbed me by the arm and took me inside my house to gather some of my things.
I was allowed to take my guitar, which I called Red, with me but I had to leave my drums and bass behind. I shoved the clothes I had into my Green Day bag and closed it. I put my make-up bag in my CD bag. I then grabbed my guitar and was led downstairs and into the back of the police car. I was being taken to a hell hole for six or so weeks.
Now, before I go any farther, let my introduce myself. I am 14 years old and my name is suppose to be Zoe Nicole Harrison but I think that is wrong. I have black hair, green eyes, and I'm 5'5. My dad abandoned me and my mom when he became big. He just couldn't stay. He never came back. Anyway, I play guitar, bass, and drums. My idols are pretty much Green Day. Now, let's get back to the story.
I arrived at the orphanage and I was led to my room. I liked my room. It was dark and kind of small. It was painted in dark red, green, and black colors. I loved it. I emptied my separate bag of CD's onto the bed and sorted them. There were Green Day, Fall Out Boy, Lostprophets, Good Charlotte, Simple Plan, Bowling For Soup, and so on. I had my iPod on AFI's Miss Murder. Anyways, I separated them and put them on the shelf.
I then put my bag beside my bed. I wasn't going to unpack or get too comfortable because I would be leaving soon. I lied on the bed and stared blankly at the ceiling. I had thoughts running through my head like Tokyo at rush hour. My step-dad's death, my real father, my life, the last words Dad said to me (step-dad), everything. I was still lying there, thinking, wondering, singing. I was thinking about the last night at home. I was wondering who my father might be. And I was singing Good Riddance (Time of Your Life).
Three Weeks Later
It was about noon when the man who ran the orphanage barged into my room.
"Hey! You worthless piece of shit, your dad if finally here. Get up and get your things." he demanded bitterly.
"Dude, if you talk like that to my daughter one more time, I'll have you on the ground in a second." The man said, warning and threat in his voice. Then, as I stood up, someone pulled my hood off of my head.
"Dude, don't pull my hood off. I don't care who you are." I said, without even looking at them. I pulled my hood back up.
"Hey, I'm your father. I haven't seen you since your baby years. I want to see your face now. I don't care who you are. I want to see you." he said, once again, pulling my hood off.
"Hey, my image is to have my hood up. I have to keep my image, even if I had to quit the band." I returned, still not looking at them. I pulled my hood up once again.
"Why did you have to quit the band? You didn't have to," he replied, putting a hand on my shoulder.
"I quit because mom was arrested and I had to come to this hell hole." I answered, a little louder than before.
"Well, we'll talk later. Get your things. I don't even like this place." he finished, taking his hand off my shoulder. I gathered my things, and walked out of the front door of the orphanage for the last time.
"Zoe, forget about me. You will go to the orphanage and your real father will pick you up within six weeks." she commanded
"Mom, why did you do it? You wouldn't have to go!" I said through tears.
"He was going to kill you and me. So I beat him to the punch line. Just to protect you. He wasn't your real father. Your real father will pick you up at the orphanage within six weeks. Now go." she explained quickly.
"Ma'am, time to go. Your daughter will be taken care of. I assure you," the officer said. He helped my mom slide into the back seat of the police car.
"Bye mom," I said as another officer grabbed me by the arm and took me inside my house to gather some of my things.
I was allowed to take my guitar, which I called Red, with me but I had to leave my drums and bass behind. I shoved the clothes I had into my Green Day bag and closed it. I put my make-up bag in my CD bag. I then grabbed my guitar and was led downstairs and into the back of the police car. I was being taken to a hell hole for six or so weeks.
Now, before I go any farther, let my introduce myself. I am 14 years old and my name is suppose to be Zoe Nicole Harrison but I think that is wrong. I have black hair, green eyes, and I'm 5'5. My dad abandoned me and my mom when he became big. He just couldn't stay. He never came back. Anyway, I play guitar, bass, and drums. My idols are pretty much Green Day. Now, let's get back to the story.
I arrived at the orphanage and I was led to my room. I liked my room. It was dark and kind of small. It was painted in dark red, green, and black colors. I loved it. I emptied my separate bag of CD's onto the bed and sorted them. There were Green Day, Fall Out Boy, Lostprophets, Good Charlotte, Simple Plan, Bowling For Soup, and so on. I had my iPod on AFI's Miss Murder. Anyways, I separated them and put them on the shelf.
I then put my bag beside my bed. I wasn't going to unpack or get too comfortable because I would be leaving soon. I lied on the bed and stared blankly at the ceiling. I had thoughts running through my head like Tokyo at rush hour. My step-dad's death, my real father, my life, the last words Dad said to me (step-dad), everything. I was still lying there, thinking, wondering, singing. I was thinking about the last night at home. I was wondering who my father might be. And I was singing Good Riddance (Time of Your Life).
Three Weeks Later
It was about noon when the man who ran the orphanage barged into my room.
"Hey! You worthless piece of shit, your dad if finally here. Get up and get your things." he demanded bitterly.
"Dude, if you talk like that to my daughter one more time, I'll have you on the ground in a second." The man said, warning and threat in his voice. Then, as I stood up, someone pulled my hood off of my head.
"Dude, don't pull my hood off. I don't care who you are." I said, without even looking at them. I pulled my hood back up.
"Hey, I'm your father. I haven't seen you since your baby years. I want to see your face now. I don't care who you are. I want to see you." he said, once again, pulling my hood off.
"Hey, my image is to have my hood up. I have to keep my image, even if I had to quit the band." I returned, still not looking at them. I pulled my hood up once again.
"Why did you have to quit the band? You didn't have to," he replied, putting a hand on my shoulder.
"I quit because mom was arrested and I had to come to this hell hole." I answered, a little louder than before.
"Well, we'll talk later. Get your things. I don't even like this place." he finished, taking his hand off my shoulder. I gathered my things, and walked out of the front door of the orphanage for the last time.
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