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Dear Dr Ben... Dear Mystery Teen (Complete)

Novel By: Gadzookziie Spice 99
Other



Ben is a 19 year old guy with a troubled past; he's done drugs, played with fire and knives; and lost every member of his family to his Mother phycotic boyfriend Grant.
Coral is 15, and she has seeked out sanctuary in the middle of the Woods - right in the Jub-Jub tree where Ben has claimed his teritory. Both teens are having a hard time - each of them finding comfort in the scrawled messages of eachothers diarys... View table of contents...


Chapters:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

Submitted:Sep 26, 2009    Reads: 153    Comments: 4    Likes: 2   


Dear Dr. Ben

Today is the first day that I have ever written in a diary.
I have a lot to tell you, and I know that you have no choice but to listen. I don't know why you are Dr Ben; I just think the name suits you.
I need somebody to talk to, and I don't have any friends.
I have never had a proper friend, not unless you include the little deaf girl I met in a play park. But I only met her once. So that doesn't count. My Dad died four years ago, and now I seem to be all on my own. My Mom does nothing but drink alcohol anymore - I don't know what to do.
You are the only one I can talk to, and you know? You are the only other person that I know anyway to talk to. If I did have any friends, they would tell me to go and get some help, but then I also know that it would be easier said than done.
So I can't. Goodbye for now.
Mystery Teen
I outstretched my arm into the darkness, the candle lighting up hardly any of the wood. I adjust myself in the branches, perching the pink leather bound diary on my knee. Blowing out the candle, I lower myself down the tree, steady my footing then grab the book as I step down again.
I hold tightly onto the branch above my head, let my legs dangle past the bark to lower my bum onto the branch below me.
Sitting steadily, I push the book into the hollowed part of the tree.
I need to run now.
Jumping down from the low height of the oak I used to come to with my Dad, I start to dash along the mossy undergrowth.
After what seems like forever in the darkness I reach the familiar row of street lights. I count the houses, counting seven I run up the drive, feeling the ruts in the wall and begin to climb.
I reach the window, and the light snaps on. His face leers towards me, fists already clenched. I brace myself, knowing that nobody is going to come.




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