Here's a short story I'm working on. What do you think? Should I continue it? Please review guise :3
She ran down the streets of Seattle, her tears hidden by the rain, until she finally reached her apartment building. As always, she climbed the fire escape and hopped through the window, throwing her backpack in front of her. The first place she went was the bathroom to wash the tears off her face. She took a hot shower, dressed, and considered doing her homework for once. Yeah right. After the day she'd had? Funny. She was sick of Seattle, sick of her mom, sick of her life. Its like it was never meant to be for her to be happy. No friends to lean on, a perpetually drunk mother, and a father who abandoned her before even giving her a chance. That's all she would ever be to him, or anybody. A nuisance. Her school counselor, the only person who's ever loved her, had been left behind in Florida. What was wrong with her? She did the only thing she knew to do: write. It was the only way she could let her feelings out, through her poems and stories. Before she knew it, it was 1:00 AM, and her mom still wasn't home. Oh well, she thought. She climbed into bed and braced herself to face the same thing the next day. And the next. And every day after that.