- 3 -

I had finally made it home, and my feet were aching, but all I could focus on was the thought and image of Mrs. Jung. I put away the groceries, noticing that my mom had not come home today, but I expected it. It was of no shock to me.

I unloaded my bag, and saw the Power Point notes stapled neatly lying there inside. I pulled them out and realized they were pretty thick, and at the top I read "The Victorian Era".

Ew, I really hated literature.

Old literature of course, I loved to read and write...but I could really care less about how it became that way.

I flipped through the notes, realizing I had little to no interest in this stuff, but when I flipped to the last page, I noticed something. There was writing, in a gel pink pen, and I realized it was a note to me...from Mrs. Jung.

I leaned on the counter, feeling my heart pick up and becoming anxious to read it. I stared at the words, reading them aloud:

"Dear Miss Kim, I hope this will be the only time I have to print out your notes. Next time pay attention to the presentation, not me."    - Mrs. Jung

I smiled, and then I became extremely embarrassed. She knew I had stared at her the entire time. I slapped my forehead, feeling like a complete creepy idiot. She probably thought I was weird - a weird, poor, skinny- girl.

I groaned, taking my things to my room and flopping down on my bed, deciding I needed to go over the notes. I'm sure they were having a test tomorrow on it, and I wanted to impress Mrs. Jung, mostly because I wanted to reprove myself.

I memorized the dates, the important vocabulary words, and I pretty much was set for the test. It wasn't hard for me to memorize.

So I laid in my bed, not really knowing what else I should do. I looked around the room, and I realized I hadn't unpacked completely, so I stood and walked over to the couple of boxes I had left. I bent down, realizing it was things like pictures, photo albums, trophies, and so forth. The other box was filled with winter clothes, which consisted of two pairs of jeans and a insulated jacket.

That was it.

I picked up the first picture, seeing me and my grandma. We were baking brownies for a Sunday lunch after church. I felt the sting of pain in my heart, and I set the picture on a shelf with my other trinkets I had carried along with me.

My grandma was the kind of person that was completely selfless. She would give you the jacket off of her back in 30 degree weather.

I missed her.

Then I saw a picture of me, mom, and dad, and the aching worsened, almost to where I couldn't breath. My eyes watered, and I wiped them quickly, not wanting to cry. I had cried enough in the last four years, I couldn't take it anymore.

But I knew it was never going to get better, and if it was...well it wasn't happening fast enough.

Our family was perfect before my dad's death. We had money, not a lot, but a decent amount. My dad owned a local grocery store, and my mom worked there with him. They built their roots where they grew up, and my dad had saved a lot of money for me to go to college.

But a year after he died, my mom used the money to move us away, feed us, and buy her god damn drugs and alcohol. And now, all that money was gone, disappeared, within three years.

Now, I was left with nothing.

I sat on my bed, staring at the picture in my hands, wishing that I could go back to that night. Beg my dad not to go out riding his motorcycle, beg him to just stay home with me and mom...but I couldn't. My dad was never coming back, and when he first passed, I thought I was going insane.

I found myself looking for him in crowds, hearing his voice, even smelling him.

But he was never there, no matter how hard I looked.

Then I was forced back into reality when I started getting hungry and food was missing, never being replaced.

Now we were here, making absolutely no progress. I was still hungry, we were still poor, and mom was still ed up, maybe even a little worse then before. I could do nothing though. I couldn't take away her car keys. I couldn't take the money from her.

Because I wanted to see my mother happy, even if that meant leaving me for days on end and getting wasted, pleasing herself and other people at that.

Not telling what she was getting herself into.

I started to cry thinking about it, and as I sobbed, I felt my mind wandering to the image of Mrs. Jung's face. Her smile, her beauty, and I felt my heart start to lift. I didn't know her, I didn't even know her first name...so why was the thought of her so inviting and calming?

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