Brendon's ADHD is out of control, so his parents send him away. Bu will this friendless boy finally be able to make some friends? Or will he find more than that? Rydon, Peterick, Gabilliam
‘But Mom! Why do I have to?’ I complained for about the 100th time.
‘I’m sorry, darling, but not even your meds are working and your father and I, you see, we can’t cope’ my mom sighed as she packed the last of my stuff.
‘It’s not my fault, mom!’ I screamed, standing up and kicking the bags full of my belongings.
‘No, honey, you’re right, it’s not. But your father and I have careers and things we need to be doing. We don’t have all the time in the world to care for you’ my mom told me, making sure I hadn’t broken any of the things inside the bags.
‘You’re blaming it on me!’ I yelled.
‘I’m not! Besides, who knows, maybe you’ll make some friends’ my mom smiled. I sighed and raced down the stairs. I grabbed some breakfast from the kitchen and walked into the living room. I sat on the couch next to my dad, who was reading the newspaper.
‘Son? We are sorry for this, you know...’ my dad told me, looking up from his newspaper.
‘You’re not! If you were, you wouldn’t send me away!’ I yelled, anger running through my veins. My dad sighed and placed the newspaper on the coffee table before walking up the stairs. My parents walked down the stairs taking my bags out into the car. I knew they’d tell me to come to them as soon as the bags were inside the car. I wanted to say goodbye to my house, but I didn’t have the guts, so instead I sat on the couch, thinking. I didn’t want to be sent away. I just wanted a normal life. I also knew I’d never get that ‘normal life’, no matter how much I wanted it. I knew the meds hadn’t helped my disorder at all. Worst of all, so did my parents. They tried pretty much everything for three years, so I knew that their decision to send me away was a last resort. Their decision was making me feel nervous and uncomfortable though, because I was used to being one of the very few ‘special needs’ children at my school, so I’d get constant help. I wasn’t sure if being with other boys my age with disorders, maybe ones I’d never heard of, would help me at all. I also had no interest in making friends anyone. No one would ever want to be friends with me and the more I thought about what was going to happen within a few hours, the more I hated myself.
‘Come on!’ my mom called from the car. I sighed and began to walk out of the door, leaving it open.
‘Son? The door is still open...’ my dad sighed. I knew this was the last time he’d ever have to deal with anything like this. Not because I thought going to a special needs boarding school would help, but because I’d already decided.
Decided what, you may ask.
I wasn’t coming home. Ever.
I knew what I had to do, and what I was going to do.
I was going to kill myself.