The Zoey Chronicles: The Awakening (Vol. 1)

The Zoey Chronicles: The Awakening (Vol. 1) by Sophia Gray

Book: The Zoey Chronicles: The Awakening (Vol. 1) by Sophia Gray Read Free Book Online
Authors: Sophia Gray
~The Awakening
    Vol. 1 ~
     
    My father’s war medal was cold in my hand, and it glistened in the morning light. I held it higher and smiled at how glorious it looked, and wished more than anything that I’d known the man who it had belonged to. He’d won it for bravery; that much I knew.
     
    I turned and looked at myself in the mirror, and found it hard to believe that I was related to someone who’d won a medal for doing something heroic. Zoey Brook, one of the most timid-looking girls to have ever lived. Why did I put myself through this? I should’ve just destroyed all the mirrors in my house and been done with it. It’s not like my alcoholic mother would have minded, or even noticed.
     
    I sighed heavily and rubbed my eyes. I hated school, but then again, who doesn’t? It seemed to me to be one of the most horrid organizations to have ever been invented. Why would someone force me to interact with people who hated me? Why should I be forced to endure the hell? Oh well. Despite my daily concerns, I put on my jacket and grabbed my bag, and made for the bedroom door.
     
    I held the medal tightly in my hand as I descended the stairs. The stench of alcohol and sweat washed over me when I walked into the front room. My mother was sat on the sofa, a bottle of whisky in her hand, a cigarette in her pale blue lips, and food down her front.
     
    “Are you okay?” I said.
     
    She turned her head with what seemed like a massive effort. “Do I look okay?” Her voice had a keen edge to it. She’d always been like this. The moment I showed the slightest concern for her, she jumped on the chance to shout at me. She hated me, but I didn’t know why. I had never understood why.
     
    “Yes,” I said, knowing that if I replied otherwise she’d go off the rails.
     
    Her face clenched in pain as she struggled to her feet, the cigarette falling from her lips and landing on the dirty floor. She took a swig from the bottle of whisky and smiled with pleasure. She loved that poison. “Are you sure?” she said, walking the length of the room and standing in front of me. The reek of alcohol was stifling, being this close to her.
     
    I held the medal and tried to imagine what my father would do. What would the man who’d won a medal for bravery do in this situation? He’d tell her to step away and leave the room, or he’d challenge her and make her sit back down. Was I going to do that? No way. I lowered my gaze and loosened my grip on the medal. I didn’t deserve it. I was a coward. “Yes, I’m sure,” I said.
     
    “Good,” she said. “Now get the hell out of my house.”
     
    I skulked away, feeling like a piece of dirt. Why did my mother hate me so much? What had I ever done to deserve it? I couldn’t think of anything.
     
    In my earliest memory of her she sitting on the sofa and watching television. I’d walked over to her and smiled, and hugged her knee. She’d kicked me away and cringed like she’d just been touched by a rat. “Never do that again,” she’d said, even as I’d cried. “Never hug me again.”
     
    The memory almost brought tears to my eyes, but I’d learnt how to be strong. She wouldn’t make me cry. She wouldn’t get the satisfaction. She’d already made me feel like I was worthless and didn’t deserve to be alive. I wasn’t going to let her see the effect she had on me.
     
    I left the house and walked to Benjamin’s, feeling terrible. There was a knot in my chest that made me feel like I was going to be sick, and the idea of going to school made me want to fall asleep never to awake.
     
    I held the medal to my chest and looked up at the sky. I muttered a quick prayer to my father, even though I wasn’t religious. I prayed to be as strong as him.              
    ~

Benjamin was my best friend, my only friend in fact. He was a nice boy. He was like me. His mother was dead and his father beat him, and everyday he came to school with a new set of bruises. He was

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