Chapter 1

I wouldn't choose this for anyone. My life. Especially at the ripe old age of 18. But at the same time, it's the most rewarding thing about me. My life. It's hard to explain really, but I guess that is where my penmenship has to come in. To describe what one person is feeling, what they want another person to feel, through letter, vowels, adjectives, nouns, and everything else that was taught to you in freshmen english.

I wake up to a burning in my throat. It seems to be coming from my stomach, though my chest, and up burning the lining of my asohphgus. It's like not matter how hard I scratch it, it still remains there. Swallowing only makes it worst, my spit like tabasco across an eye. Or some thing like it.

I look around, trying to adjust my eyes to the darkness. There's a sink in the hotel room with neatly wrapped plastic cups. I unrwap one, fill it with water and gulp it down. The burning doesn't go away. I notice there is ice in that thing where you put ice in. So I add some ice, and chomp on it, the burning some sides a little, but as soon as I swallow the ice, the volcano comes back in my throat. In my head I admit defeat and walk back to the bed. It smells like clorox and flowers as I fall back undernath the covers.

That's when I notice I am alone. There are two beds in hotel room, but I am by myself. There are clothes here and there, some mine, most not. Light flashes behind the balcony door, loud crackiling sounds behind them. Getting some fresh air is better than just sitting in this inferno in my chest. Maybe it will do me some good. As soon as I open the door, I realize what I was hearing and seeing. Fireworks. I look out of the balcony and see the whole cities skyline lit up with a rainbow of colors, burning paper, and alchoal so much I feel my intoxication levels.

I head back to bed, remebering where I was and why I was here.

I hear the card going into the lock, and the door handle turning. My youngest sister charges in and plops on the bed.

"Be quiet, she's still sleeping" Heather shushes my youngest sister Tarah, as she stops mid-jump on top of the mattress.

I can always count on Heather to be the reasonable one. Even though I'm five years older than her, she's always been the more level-headed one, the one that we always look up to, even though she has to look up to me.

"Ooops sorry" Tarah looks stunned, still, as she quietly tip-toes across the hotel room, looking for her clothes to change back into. "Should we wake her up?"

"No no, let her sleep." My mom is the last one to come into the room. I hear her lock the door, then throw the other door lock across it. If there was a third lock, I'm sure she would have locked it too.
"She's had a long night, and she was feeling horrible."

"Yeah that baby is probably kicking around like crazy after that spicy food we had." Heather chimes in and I hear her head into the bathroom.

Oh yes, I had almost forgotten. Six months pregnant and my baby wasn't liking all the onions I had eaten a couple of hours earlier. We had gone downtown and got a hotel room to see the whole city light up in firework. We had dinner and was having the worst case of heartburn completly imaginable. I try to keep my eyes closed as the baby kicks around, but I know my mom and Tarah are probably staring at me, waiting to see if I need help.

I remember they were wanting me to go on the large balcony on the top floor, but the burning was so bad, I just couldn't even move.

I feel a pat on my head, and covers going over my shoulders.

"Happy New Year Mom" Tarah laughs, and under the cover she goes.