We will help you get your mom off drugs!

I feel like each individual paragraph is okay, but the transition between them seems a little scetchy. Could you tell me if it flows or not?

After returning to the waiting area Jacob immediately headed for the front office. He needed to find a way home, but dreaded the means by which he would achieve one. The hospital wouldn’t provide a ride, they could call a cab but what money did he have? Walking was out of the question, he was miles from home. And his mother was sure as hell not going to take him. That left one solution. His father.
Jacob cringed at the thought of being alone with his father. Too many times Isaac had taken advantage of situations like that. Too many times Isaac had hurt Jacob when they were alone. Not once had he failed to capitalize on a chance to abuse him. Whether it be verbal or physical, Jacob was always the victim of an alcoholic rage when left alone with Isaac. Hell, sometimes his father wouldn’t even be drunk. Sometimes Jacob thought that Isaac hit him just to have the feeling of superiority over his son. Perhaps he was so weak, so ineffectual, against his sinful cravings on the inside that he felt the need to compensate with physical force on the outside. Perhaps that was what drove him to such great lengths to beat and abuse his son.
His father was a self minded alcoholic fool. So pathetic and worthless that he constantly bounced from job to job, as he was fired from payrolls again and again. His laziness contributed to poor money, his poor money contributed stress, and his stress contributed to alcoholism. Every night Jacob’s parents would drink whisky and wine until they either passed out or fought till one or the other left the house in a drunken fury. Every night accusations of infidelity slammed between the two in tremulous shouts that would shake the house. Every night Jacob would crawl into bed, desperate for sleep, only to be denied it by the screaming voices downstairs. He would pull the pillow around his ears, squeezing tight, and press his face to the mattress underneath the covers. But that never helped, and eventually Jacob would cry from the torment.
Due to the pressure of paying bills without money, the stress of dealing with his wife every night, and the weakness he had to alcohol, Isaac’s pride had sunken to the bottom of the pit. The only way he ever grasped a sliver of self esteem again, was through dominance over Jacob. With every scream, with every shove, with every punch Isaac felt the sense of superiority. He needed the rush, needed the excitement of being the victor. He needed that feeling of ascendancy in order to keep going. Alcohol only took away a little of the stress, but it didn’t take away his thirst for violence. And that’s when he would attack Jacob like a mindless beast, leaping from the barstool onto him and spraying whisky across the kitchen.
Nothing could compare to those few nights when Jacob was forced to be alone with his father though. Fewer witnesses meant worse physical torture. With no risk in anyone seeing, what was the need to stop? It would go on and on until Isaac’s hunger for violence had been quenched. But with an insatiable need for brutality, it wasn’t easily quenchable.

Chapter one- No right turns
Just as I finished packing the final plates and glasses to move there was a smash,coming from the basement two floors down. It was loud enough the neighbors heard and came running over. “It’s ok,I think it was your brother with his box,”my mother said,with a deep sigh she went back to the moving truck. This wasn’t the last time we moved. We moved four other times from my dad being in the army. I carried the large box outside,taking a look at the house and absorbing the detail. The last time I would see the place where I had my first kiss on December 5th.
We piled into the mini van. Dad in front with mom and me and Andrew in back. My favorite song came on by Eminem INSANE,but mom changed it,cussing under her breath and the first word started. “Mom!”I moaned reaching forward and twisting the nob.
“No,I hate Eminem he stinks Molly.” I looked at Andrew who was propped up with two pillows and sleeping with a blanket over his body. Then reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes,”Mom,I’m pulling up the divider,”I said,and fumbled with the button pressed it all the way up so she couldn’t smell the smoke. I lit it carefully and stuck it into my mouth. My lungs filled with and and I coughed,my eyes turned wide and that’s when I knew those things are disgusting!
We arrived at 5444 Westbrook,Connecticut. It was a bashe house,with green shutters and a cracked window. That’s All I have so far. I’m 11

I am having hard trying to find an audience to draw criticism from. Any comments would be greatly appreciated!

Chapter 1
The morning sun beamed through the tarnished, dusty blinds, as the sounds of whizzing cars cascaded through Fernando’s sleepy ears like a speeding train. It was eight o’ clock in Mexico City. The dust particles flew around the warm room, as the smell of crackling chorizo sausage seeped under the door and into the pores of the cracked drywall. Fernando threw himself off of his stained mattress, and into his tiny kitchen. His Mother was shouting something about their new life. He couldn’t understand her, but her words bounced off the inside of his ears with an eminent disregard for explanation. Life in Mexico was difficult. Fernando’s father: Lorenzo, having spent his entire life under the scrutiny of a higher rank, hoped to one day leave it all and start new in America. He worked every day at the meat processing plant, and would always lecture Fernando about the opportunities and freedoms that they would one day enjoy in the United States. However, Fernando knew that his father was a man of great dreams, and shallow perceptions. Fernando grabbed a piece of chorizo, and his lucky blue hat, before flying down the carpeted stairs, and through the dimly lit lobby of his apartment complex. Fernando was greeted by the morning sun, and it warmed his face as he ran down the sidewalk. Quickly, he rushed down an alley, up a flight of green steel stairs, and through a bright red door. “Good Morning papi,” he said as he entered a freezing room that smelt of musky cologne and rust. “What are you trying to kill your papi? Shut that damn door” He threw his feet out of bed, took two red pills that were laying on his wobbly nightstand, and took a swig of cold water. Papi was approaching his 75th birthday, and walked with a long wooden cane, crimson beret, and his lucky harmonica. Fernando loved it when Papi played his harmonica. As a small child, he would sit with his papi on his small apartment balcony and listen to Papi play as the sounds serenaded the sun as it set behind silhouetted city buildings, and kissed the thick smoke of grilled meats being prepared by street vendors on the strip. “It’s times like these that I wish I was back in the states. Can’t even get a decent cane here” Fernando helped Papi out of his room, and into a hard wooden chair in the adjacent kitchen. Heat was radiating off of the black pavement outside, and the sound of car horns was prominent over all others. “You know, it wasn’t always like this. There was a time when I didn’t worry about growing old. When I was about your age, I could get a gig in any nightclub in Texas.” “Yes Papi, I know,” said Fernando. “Can we start the lesson now?” Papi whipped out his lucky harmonica and rolled his chapped lips over the cold, smooth steel. He licked his lips, subsequently pouring out a complex harmonica solo. It was always a spectacle when Papi played his harmonica. Everything he played was steeped in passion, and molded through his personal experiences. Fernando sat in awe as he watched his grandfather play. Fernando played a few squeaky and disorderly notes. Papi laughed, and turned the harmonica around. “You’ve got it backwards son.” “I knew that Papi. I was testing you.” The two sat for hours exchanging their company with one another. It was not too long before they would be in a new land. Lorenzo stared out of his papi’s dusty barred window, and watched brown faces pour in and out of tall white buildings, and down the hot pavement. He closed his eyes and continued to play his harmonica.

The dinner table was silent that night, filled with nothing but the gentle hum that Lorenzo made after every bite of his roast. There was a delayed anticipation in the air. They were waiting for the phone to ring all night. For 3 months, they had been waiting for their paperwork to go through. For 3 months, they all had the same queasiness in the pit of their stomachs. That kind of queasiness that is never quite settled, until you know everything is going to be alright. They sat quietly, hardly uttering a single word, except for the occasional request to pass the red beans. “Why haven’t they called yet?” asked Fernando. Lorenzo shuffled his thoughts trying to find the right answer, but could only mutter an “I don’t know,” followed by a loud sigh. The white Hewlett Packard telephone clung to the stained, rotted drywall all night without making a single peep.

I am having hard trying to find an audience to draw criticism from. Any comments would be greatly appreciated!

Chapter 1
The morning sun beamed through the tarnished, dusty blinds, as the sounds of whizzing cars cascaded through Fernando’s sleepy ears like a speeding train. It was eight o’ clock in Mexico City. The dust particles flew around the warm room, as the smell of crackling chorizo sausage seeped under the door and into the pores of the cracked drywall. Fernando threw himself off of his stained mattress, and into his tiny kitchen. His Mother was shouting something about their new life. He couldn’t understand her, but her words bounced off the inside of his ears with an eminent disregard for explanation. Life in Mexico was difficult. Fernando’s father: Lorenzo, having spent his entire life under the scrutiny of a higher rank, hoped to one day leave it all and start new in America. He worked every day at the meat processing plant, and would always lecture Fernando about the opportunities and freedoms that they would one day enjoy in the United States. However, Fernando knew that his father was a man of great dreams, and shallow perceptions. Fernando grabbed a piece of chorizo, and his lucky blue hat, before flying down the carpeted stairs, and through the dimly lit lobby of his apartment complex. Fernando was greeted by the morning sun, and it warmed his face as he ran down the sidewalk. Quickly, he rushed down an alley, up a flight of green steel stairs, and through a bright red door. “Good Morning papi,” he said as he entered a freezing room that smelt of musky cologne and rust. “What are you trying to kill your papi? Shut that damn door” He threw his feet out of bed, took two red pills that were laying on his wobbly nightstand, and took a swig of cold water. Papi was approaching his 75th birthday, and walked with a long wooden cane, crimson beret, and his lucky harmonica. Fernando loved it when Papi played his harmonica. As a small child, he would sit with his papi on his small apartment balcony and listen to Papi play as the sounds serenaded the sun as it set behind silhouetted city buildings, and kissed the thick smoke of grilled meats being prepared by street vendors on the strip. “It’s times like these that I wish I was back in the states. Can’t even get a decent cane here” Fernando helped Papi out of his room, and into a hard wooden chair in the adjacent kitchen. Heat was radiating off of the black pavement outside, and the sound of car horns was prominent over all others. “You know, it wasn’t always like this. There was a time when I didn’t worry about growing old. When I was about your age, I could get a gig in any nightclub in Texas.” “Yes Papi, I know,” said Fernando. “Can we start the lesson now?” Papi whipped out his lucky harmonica and rolled his chapped lips over the cold, smooth steel. He licked his lips, subsequently pouring out a complex harmonica solo. It was always a spectacle when Papi played his harmonica. Everything he played was steeped in passion, and molded through his personal experiences. Fernando sat in awe as he watched his grandfather play. Fernando played a few squeaky and disorderly notes. Papi laughed, and turned the harmonica around. “You’ve got it backwards son.” “I knew that Papi. I was testing you.” The two sat for hours exchanging their company with one another. It was not too long before they would be in a new land. Lorenzo stared out of his papi’s dusty barred window, and watched brown faces pour in and out of tall white buildings, and down the hot pavement. He closed his eyes and continued to play his harmonica.

The dinner table was silent that night, filled with nothing but the gentle hum that Lorenzo made after every bite of his roast. There was a delayed anticipation in the air. They were waiting for the phone to ring all night. For 3 months, they had been waiting for their paperwork to go through. For 3 months, they all had the same queasiness in the pit of their stomachs. That kind of queasiness that is never quite settled, until you know everything is going to be alright. They sat quietly, hardly uttering a single word, except for the occasional request to pass the red beans. “Why haven’t they called yet?” asked Fernando. Lorenzo shuffled his thoughts trying to find the right answer, but could only mutter an “I don’t know,” followed by a loud sigh. The white Hewlett Packard telephone clung to the stained, rotted drywall all night without making a single peep.
Chapter 2
“Get up You is going to be late for school” Fernando looked at his clock. 8:15. Lorenzo grabbed his blue hat, kissed his poor mother on the cheek, and ran out the door. As he darted down the street, he noticed how beautiful the long Spanish moss’ were. Fernando saw his Papi sitting on the balcony, and he waved. “Ola Papi” “Get your ass movin boy, your gonna be late for school” Fernando could hear the captivating melodies of his papi’s harmonica as he continued his pursuit to school. He made it to school right before the dreaded toll of the bell. He sat down next to his best friend: Christopher. “Did you hear?” “No. Hear what?” “Mrs. Tuppolo is dead. They found her this morning in her house keeled over in her oatmeal” “What happened?” “Heart attack. She tried calling the ambulances but they were too late.” Fernando sat in silence for a few minutes. This teacher who taught him how to count, and write, and to be a good person, and share with others is now dead.
Chapter 2
“Get up You is going to be late for school” Fernando looked at his clock. 8:15. Lorenzo grabbed his blue hat, kissed his poor mother on the cheek, and ran out the door. As he darted down the street, he noticed how beautiful the long Spanish moss’ were. Fernando saw his Papi sitting on the balcony, and he waved. “Ola Papi” “Get your ass movin boy, your gonna be late for school” Fernando could hear the captivating melodies of his papi’s harmonica as he continued his pursuit to school. He made it to school right before the dreaded toll of the bell. He sat down next to his best friend: Christopher. “Did you hear?” “No. Hear what?” “Mrs. Tuppolo is dead. They found her this morning in her house keeled over in her oatmeal” “What happened?” “Heart attack. She tried calling the ambulances but they were too late.” Fernando sat in silence for a few minutes. This teacher who taught him how to count, and write, and to be a good person, and share with others is now dead.

So here is the 1st chappy. hope u like it.

“You’re sending me too a boarding school?” Alayna’s perfectly glossed mouth hung open in the shape of an O. “What have I ever done to deserve this?” Alayna put her hand to her heart. Her mom rolled her eyes and sighed. “Alayna, quit being over dramatic. And are you seriously asking what you have done to deserve this?” “You kissed a boy. In the middle of class. In front of everyone. And no to mention the fact you were only in the sixth grade.” Alayna glared at her mom.
“I had to kiss him. He was the most popular guy in school. My status would have been affected if I had’nt.” Now it was her mom’s time to put her hand to her heart. “Your status?” “Alayna, are you serious? What do you know about status?” “I know that if I had’nt kissed him I would be sitting with the losers at table nine,” she muttered.
Her mom shot a desperate look at her father across the room. He acted like he was interested in the bluebird that was now sitting on the window sill of thier over sized living room. “If it helps, the school is coed,” her mother’s voice was becoming desperate. “I don’t care if it’s bi!” Alayna shouted.
Her father finally butted in. “Watch your mouth young lady. And we have a surprise for you. Jade’s going with you.” Alayna rolled her eyes. “So her parents are forcing her to go, too?” she asked. “No, she, unlike some people, doesn’t mind going,” her father answered. “So she wants to go, and your’e forcing me?” “No one’s being forced, Alayna,” her mom said. Alayna smirked. “Then if that’s the case, I’m not going.” “Oh, your’e going, even if we have to tie you up and gag you,” her father said. Her hand took its place on her heart once more. She gasped. “You’d do that?” she asked. “If we had too,” her father answered.
Alayna tried one more desperate attempt. “Haven’t I already been punished for this? You took away my credit card.” “We took away one of your credit cards. And who said this was a punishment?” “Well, if it’s not, then what is it?” she asked. “Look at it as rehab,” her mother advised. “I don’t do drugs,” she huffed under her breath. “You know what? This discussion is O-V-E-R over. Your’e going to boarding school in one week, no ifs, ands, buts about it, and your’e going to be pleasant about it.” And he walked right out the room. Her mom looked at her. “Well, here’s your credit card. Give Kingston-James a try before you say you don’t like it.” She gave her a small hug and followed her husband out the room.
Alayna pulled out her rhinestone studded iPhone and sent a text to Jade.
glamur_godess:i hate my life :(
gossip_fashionita:ur such a pessemist
glamur_goddess:ur such an optimist. did u kno the darn thing is called kingston-james?
gossip_fashionita:its not a darn thing.its a boarding school. and yes i kno what its called
glamur_goddess:whatev. i got my credit card back today
gossip_fashionita: *insert laugh here* u could have done that without that credit card.
glamur_goddes:1ce again, whatev. u comin or not?
gossip_fashionita: see u in an hour.
Alayna sat her phone down and sighed. Oh, well. At least it was coed.

so? do u like it?love it? hate it? tell me whatcha think please.
thanks
oh the part when she told jade she got her card back. i forgot a part. it was upposed to say: i got my credit card back. im goin shoppin
there are two more main characters thet will be introduced later.

[Nick's POV] She screams and her eyes flutter closed once more. “MOMMY!” Cassie shrieks. “What happened to Mommy? Did I say something? Did I do something wrong? Is it my fault?” Aiden asks worriedly. “No, it’s not your fault,” I say, trying to remain calm. “Then who’s is it?” “No one’s!” I was trying not to yell but my voice came out decibels louder than I intended and his lip starts quivering. Tears stream down his face and I feel so terrible, words cannot describe this feeling. “Aiden, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you–” He runs out of the room and I see that he runs over to where everyone else is sitting and plops into a chair, crying. The doctor walks in skeptically. “Is everything okay? I heard a scream.” “Well, I believe, she got her memories back and they scared her so… y’know…” “Oh, I see…” he says, “This isn’t good.” “What do you mean: THIS ISN’T GOOD?” “Calm down please sir.” I’ve been rude to everyone today haven’t I? “I’m sorry it’s just…” “It’s a very stressful time for you, I completely understand.” “Okay, so why isn’t this good?” “Because if just the recollection of her memories had that effect on her, they will cause permanent damage. She might need therapy.” “Therapy?” That’s not going to go over well. “Yes, intensive therapy.” “I see she has a history of alcohol and substance abuse, is this true?” “Yes.” “Is this how she copes?” “Not recently but in the past.” “She might need to attend a rehabilitation center.” “She already went to one.” “But, I promised,” I say, “She didn’t like it there the first time. She wouldn’t tell me why either, she just made me promise that I would never make her go back there ever again.” “Well it’s–Wait a second, what’s your wife’s maiden name?” “Sierra Farrare.” “WHAT?” “What’s so wrong with that?” I ask. “I’ll be back,” he says hurriedly. He nearly runs out of the room and returns with an old newspaper. “I think you should read this,” he says. I take it from him and from the headline of the article, my equilibrium is thrown out of whack: ‘Teen Molested at Rehabilitation Center’. I sink down into a chair and continue to read: “A young girl, 14, was attending a rehabilitation center, hardly expected what happened there. Distraught by her parents’ divorce, she turned to drugs and alcohol. When this became too unbearable, her mother–her legal guardian sent her to Changes. A popular rehab center for addicts under the age of 18. A counselor, 26, at the time, Chase Crawford, [a/n: haha, I couldn't think of anyone else xd] was very close to her. Sierra being her name. “But one day,” she says, “Things became inappropriate. He… touched me… places I didn’t want him to and… I didn’t know what to think at first but when I realized how wrong it was, I did something and told the manager.” Crawford has been taken into custody by police under charges of child molestation. Apparently Sierra is not the first.’ Why didn’t she tell me? Why is she always keeping secrets from me? “I know you’re concerned but sometimes people don’t always feel comfortable sharing things like that.” “We’ve been married for two years…” “This is a very uncomfortable situation so when she wakes up again you need to treat it as such. When she wakes up she will be in a very fragile psychological state. If you do ANYTHING to upset this, be it making it worse or better, she will not be able to get proper treatment and this could possibly ruin her life, remember that… Nicholas,” he says as he reads my name off his paper.

“You warned me that you were gonna leave Never thought you would really go” **2 months later** **Kevin and Julie** Julie: I missed you. Kevin: I missed you too. *kisses her* Julie: I’m sorry I had to be in rehab but It was the only thing I had to do because of my problem. Kevin: It’s ok but you’re out of rehab now. Julie: Yea, but I’m sorry I think we should just take a break from us. Kevin: But, Why? Julie: I’m not right for you and with your singing career and reputation. I just don’t fit in. Kevin: But Babe…… Julie: No Kevin, I’m sorry but I have to leave. *leaves* Kevin: What have I done? *goes upstairs to his room* **Karly and Abby** Karly: I miss Rob. Abby: At least you have a boyfriend. Jason hasn’t text me since. Karly: And what sucks is that we have to go to school tomorrow. Abby: Yea but at least there would be some nice guys at our school. Karly: Yea there’s some nice guys like…..ugh Abby: Yea……ughh. *laughs* *Karly’s cell rings* Karly: Be right back. *goes to her phone* I got a text from E! Entertainment Abby: What does it say? Karly: They want to interview me about Robert. Abby: Oh…Well….lets go shopping. Karly: Ok! *They leave* **Mickie and Nick** Mickie: *texting Justin + laughing* Nick: Would you please stop texting Justin? Mickie: No…… Nick: Cmon. I’m your boyfriend. *makes puppy dog face* Mickie: *kisses him + continues texting* Nick, I need to go. Nick: Why? Where are you going? Mickie: I’m meeting Justin and Miranda (A/N: Shes now friends with Miranda Cosgrove from icarly. also i changed justin from a david henrie character to david archuleta) Nick: Can I come with you? Mickie: Sure…… Nick: Okay let me just get ready. Mickie: Okay, Im going to take a shower. *Mickies phone vibrates* Nick: Hmm….. A text from Justin *reads* So do you like me back? *replies* Dude this is Nick stop texting my girlfriend. Mickie: *comes back to nick* Whatcha doin? Nick: Psh, Nothing. Mickie: Yea…. Well Im going to grab something to eat downstairs *goes downstairs* Nick: Ok, Im going to take a shower. **Joe and Sharii** “My state of mine, Has finally got the best of me, I need you next to me” Sharii: Joe, I don’t want to have this baby. Joe: What? Why? Sharii: How our lives our going to change and what if Im a bad mother or you’re a bad father? Joe: We can work together…..We did a stupid mistake….but we can fix that. Sharii: I dont know *almost about to cry* Everytime I look down it just reminds me of……… Joe: Its ok. Dont cry. I dont want you to be sad. Sharii: Ok, I wont be sad if you promise to be there 100% for me. Joe: I promise I would be there 500%. *hugs her from behind* Sharii: Im just trying to see if the baby would kick. Joe: Let me try… *sings Hello Beautiful* Sharii: Woah. Joe: That was weird….

anything. Every since my mom died something has been missing in me. Its been a month and still no one knows what it is. Most days I would just leave in the middle of school and go to the rehab center and lay there on her bed and cry some more. I had no one now besides my aunt, but what could she do? Without my mother, I became more scared. Even though when I was beaten by my father she never helped, but when he was put in jail I felt safe with her and now shes gone. The next week I herd …

Chapter 6 K- What about rehab? G- Are you out of your mind?!?!?! NO! (meanwhile) MJ- So maybe Rehab would be best for her? D- I think so. But maybe we should call a family meeting. MJ- I’ll get the talking stick. D- (yells upstairs) FAMILY MEETING IN THE LIVING ROOM NOW! (everyone comes downstairs) MJ- alright everyone you know how these things work, no talking unless you have the talking stick. (the talking stick is a plastic baseball bat) G- Give me that damn stick (grabs it) alright, I …

could I forget. The guy that took you away and made me the happiest person alive. Sadie: (crying) Mom. You don’t mean that. You’re just drunk and don’t know what you’re saying. You need help. Leslie: I need help?! I NEED HELP! No! You listen to me. I DO NOT NEED HELP! You’re the one that needs help! How could you leave your own mother? How could you say those awful things that you said?! I GAVE BIRTH TO YOU DAMMIT! I- Sadie: NO MOM.. you listen to me. I am sick, and tired of acting like I …

the little party. “Heyy mommy!” Steph yelled. We all laughed. “Steph I was already a mommy.” I said. “So what. Your now a mommy again!” She said pouting. We all laughed again. Bethany ran in behind them with a sluggish Emily. Emily was doing drugs and having sex and drinking, and her father caught her, so she was grounded for the whole year. No friends or anything. I guess she was a little mad about that. Bethany gave me a huge hug. “I have a new cousin!” She yelled happily. We all laughed …

Shannon: *She was standing in front of Joe to where he couldn’t see her face.* Mommy, I brought my friend to meet you. *She started winking several times at her mom and continued talking.* His name is Joe JONES and he’s pretty coolio. I only met him a few weeks ago. He works with me. *She continued to blink and wink at her mom until she turned to look at Joe and grabbed his arm to pull him next to her.* Terry: *She couldn’t believe who she was seeing! And how on Earth had Shannon not sent her …