Hey, this is based off one of my friend's stories that he never got to finishing. With his permission he let me use the idea to make this...


I sat on my mattress for a good half hour, silently crying to myself as I thought about what I was about to do. My Dad had just blackened my other eye about ten minutes ago before storming out of the house to find my mom after she had cheated on him again. You may be surprised but this wasn’t really too uncommon of an occurrence for me- my parents often got in some fight over something, got drunk, and usually took it out on me. Today I guess I was just lucky that my dad only slapped me across the face in all his drunken glory before stumbling out of the door to find my mom at the bar.

However lucky I was then, I was going to be in a world of trouble when they both came home. While they were prone to getting in fights with each other every so often, they usually found some way to blame me for whatever problem they were having and beat me senseless for it. Today was especially going to suck. You see...I’ve had this sort of problem for a couple years now. Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve been wetting my bed. In the beginning, my parents would usually hit me for it so when I turned eight or so I turned to hiding the wet sheets in my closet- washing them at coin operated laundry machines every chance I could get. Needless to say this was an awful experience as the laundromats were usually filled with people who regularly saw me come in once or twice a week to spend what little money I had on washing my soaked sheets. On top of this, my bedwetting had also somewhat ruined my mattress after about a year or so. After a month of finding quarters on the sidewalk, I eventually mustered enough money to buy a bedwetting sheet from babies-r-us which kept my already raggedy mattress from getting any worse. I did eventually start to partially grow out of my bedwetting, though around when I turned twelve- sometimes only wetting the bed three or four times a week as opposed to every day. Now thirteen, I took pride in only wetting two or three times a week, sometimes only once- but up to date I’ve never had a dry week. On the occasions when I did wet however, I was always able to hide it because I tended to wake up really early to stuff the sheets away in my closet. However, this week I had been sort of sick from the flu and had slept in until eight and my Dad just so happened to wake up early enough to barge into my room- finding me asleep in a soaked bed.

Needless to say he was pissed off and woke me up with his screaming before tearing the sheets off of my bed. Not really knowing what else to do, I just jumped out of bed and cowered in the corner of my room while he continued cursing before finding the childishly printed plastic sheet on my bed. It took him a couple seconds to realize what it was but when he did and it occurred to him that I must have been bedwetting for a long time for me to have a rubber sheet on my bed, he was furious beyond belief. After throwing me into the corner and punching my eye, he stormed off and yelled “Your mother’s gonna love to see this” before barging out of the house to go find my mom. After I was sure he was gone, I slowly got up- stumbling a bit and holding my eye. I was suddenly really dizzy and had the worst headache so I just sat back down on my bed in a sort of fetal position and started bawling.

After about thirty minutes of crying, my headache started to wear off so I slowly slid off of my mattress and walked over to the other side of the room to look out my window. Cheesy as it may be, whenever I felt bad I just liked to look out of my window and think. I knew that when my parents got home I would get beaten again, and that terrified me. I usually did my best to avoid getting them angry, and usually only little things set them off such as me not cleaning the house well enough, accidentally spilling water or something, or for crying too much. Admittedly, I was a bit of a crybaby sometimes and usually cried whenever I knew I did something my parents would get mad at me for. Unsurprisingly, I was crying my eyes out while sadly looking out of my window at the thought of what they would do when they came home. If they were prone to hitting me whenever I did something little, I didn’t want to think about what they would do to me for wetting the bed. In fact, the more I thought about it the more my mind wandered off into thinking of all the horrible stuff they would do. What if they wouldn’t let me eat for a week because of it? They would probably also beat my senselessly- much worse than they previously had. What if they told everybody about it? Suddenly I started to get really scared just from the thought of what my parents were going to do- and just then I got an extremely immature and childish idea stuck in my head. What if I ran away?

It just started out as a little fantasy that I wasn’t actually planning to act upon, but within about thirty short minutes I had already stuffed my torn up backpack with the only two outfits I owned, some food, and a few other necessities I might have needed while on the road. By then my heart was racing a mile a minute and just the thought of getting out of that god forsaken house was already starting to make me feel better. I quickly got up and headed out of my room- walking into my parents’ room. Kicking some beer bottles out of the way, I made my way over to their dresser and rummaged through their stuff- finding about fifty dollars- mostly in quarters- in a jar. I just took the whole jar and started to make my way out of the room before seeing the keys to my dad’s pickup truck lying on the bed. After thinking about what that entailed for a couple seconds, I quickly snatched the keys up and headed back to my room to grab my backpack before going back across to the front of the house and walking out the door.

Just the sight of my dad’s car in the driveway started to make my heart race even faster than before. Sure, I had some driving experience, but not nearly enough to make it on the road. Out of boredom, I once read a traffic manual that I had found in my house a while ago but that only told me the rules of driving- not how to actually drive. Other than that, the only driving experience I had was from driving golf carts- and once when my friend’s sister let me drive her’s around the neighborhood when I was twelve. Even though it wasn’t much experience, I assumed it was enough to make it on the road.

Content with this, I opened the car and threw my backpack in the back seat before getting in the driver’s seat and shoving the key in the ignition. The car’s engine started and I put the car into reverse, carefully backing up and repositioning the car so I could drive out of the driveway. Suddenly filled with adrenaline I decided that I was going to go through with this and run away. I flung stuck the car into drive and clumsily drove out onto the neighborhood street before getting onto a main road without even looking back at my parent’s grimy and worn down excuse for a house. My palms were drenched, my face was completely pale from fear and excitement, and I had no idea where I was going or what I would do when I got there. All I knew was that I was finally out of that house and I would never have to go back.

After the initial ten minutes of excitement from driving by myself on an empty to god knows where, I started to feel the first pangs of dread as I got into traffic. I was barely tall enough to touch the pedals and had to adjust my seat so I could see out of the window. Needless to say, I hardly looked old enough to be out on my own, let alone to be driving on my own. I also was terrified at the idea of getting in an accident and after about fifteen minutes of driving in traffic, about fifty cars had honked their horns at me, and I think I even ran a red light once as well. When I did, the entire intersection seemed to blare their horns at me and the surprise sort of...made me wet my pants a bit. I was too terrified to cry but thankfully for me no police cars were around and I made it out safely into some less populated roads.

Eventually, I managed to even find a highway which had hardly any cars at all on it. I drove on that for about four hours, too scared to stop and change out of fear of getting caught. Although it was hard and terrifying at first, I eventually sort of got the hang of driving seventy miles per hour and managed to calm down a bit. The fact that no other cars were around made it even easier on me and I managed to forget about everything that was going on, just paying attention to the road. Eventually however, the little arrow on the gas- monitor started to move fearfully close to the E. From previously reading driving manuals I knew this meant I would have to stop for gas.

After driving on an empty stretch of road for another twenty minutes or so, I spotted a gas station on the side of the road which I pulled into. I carefully pulled my car up to one of the gas-vending machines, unbuckled, and hopped out of the car. About that time, I realized that there was a large wet spot where I was sitting, and my pants were soaked. Still, there was no-one around and I badly needed to get gas so I just managed to hide behind my car as I opened the back seat door to retrieve the jar of my parents’ money.

Looking through the jar, I rummaged through the sea of quarters before pulling out fifteen dollars in ones and fives. Putting the jar back into my backpack, I started inspecting the gas machine for a place where I could stick my money in. Surprisingly, there was only a slot for credit cards. I tried stuffing my money in there, but the machine wouldn’t take it. After five minutes of hopelessly trying I decided to just swallow my humiliation and ask the guy in the gas station building for help. I knew that my pants were still soaking wet but I prayed that no-one would notice as I quickly started walking towards the building. I just wanted to get this over with so I could get out of there.

Now blushing furiously, I shyly opened the door and walked inside- my eyes tearing a but from the embarrassment and my face bright red. Luckily, the clerk was too busy reading a magazine to notice me, and I walked up close enough to the counter so that she would be unable to see my lower half.

“Hello?” I asked to get her attention, prompting her to put her magazine down to look at me.

“Can I help you?” She asked in a voice that made me think she thought I was a little kid. Luckily for me she couldn’t see my pants.

“Um... My er-...mom told me to come in and ask for help with getting money in the gas machines...” I said as innocently as I could. I knew that if I told her that I was the one who needed help with the gas she wouldn’t believe me for a second. On top of that she would probably call the police and have them pick me up as I obviously looked too young to be driving.

“Oh, you want me to put credit on the machine for you?” She asked sweetly. I blushed upon hearing her voice. It sounded like she was talking to a grade-schooler.

“Okay...” I stammered. She held out her hand awkwardly over the countertop and it took me a couple seconds before realizing she wanted me to hand her the money.

“Oh, sorry” I muttered before giving her the fifteen dollars. She just smiled at me and started pressing some buttons on her computer before telling me that I was “good to go”.

“Thanks” I said quietly before turning around and speed walking out of the store. I heard her start to say something as I opened the door but I just ignored it and walked out to the car. I was blushing thirty shades of red by that time and I knew for sure she saw my pants.

Praying she wouldn’t come out to talk to my “Mom” I just fumbled with the gas machine until figuring out how to use it. After a bit of fumbling that felt like an eternity, I finally figured out how to fill the tank and within minutes the tank was full. I immediately got back in the car and drove away without any restraint, terrified that the lady at the gas-station had seen me instead of my supposed mother driving. After about twenty more minutes on the road, however, I felt pretty safe as no police cars were following me and once again, I was the only one on the highway.

After about two more hours of driving I started to get really tired. I didn’t know what time it was but the sun was starting to go down past the trees surrounding the road- causing a little bit of light to annoyingly get in my eyes which made it sort of hard to see. Looking down, I also realized that I was almost out of gas and I would have to stop for gas at some point or another since my last trip only filled the truck about halfway. I kept on driving for a while longer to the point where it was getting pretty dark out and I still couldn’t find a gas station anywhere.

At this point the highway turned off into some other road that went off into the forest. I kept following down that road not knowing where else to go and would occasionally see a house or two but not much else. I kept this up for about about forty more minutes until something went wrong in my car. Pressing my foot against the peddle wasn’t giving me any more speed and little by little my car started to slow down. Looking back at the dashboard, I realized that I was now completely out of fuel and in the middle of nowhere. Within minutes, the car had completely slowed down so I drove it out of the road and parked. I immediately started panicking. Not knowing what else to do, I got out of the car and tried to survey the situation. I started to regret my decision the minute I opened the door, however. It was pitch black and freezing outside. Still, I felt obliged to get out of the car and look for some way out of this but after a while of pacing back and forth around the car, I came to terms that I would have to leave the car. There was no way I was going to be able to push it to a gas station, and calling someone for help was completely out of the question (not to mention I didn’t have a phone). On top of this, if I stayed where my car was for too long, someone might drive over and find me which would probably end up in me getting caught.

Grabbing a stick from the nearby forest, I started prying off the already loose license plate on the car before throwing it out into the woods. I didn’t want anybody to be able to trace this car back to my parents. Content that I was safe from being discovered, I grabbed my backpack and started walking away from the car- blowing into my hands to keep them warm. By then it was really dark out and the only light was coming from the stars.

I immediately began to regret not stealing one of my parent’s jackets to bring with me. It was freezing cold and I was wearing a t-shirt and partially wet jeans. Silly as it may be, I was also always somewhat afraid of the dark. After walking for a good half hour I couldn’t help but keep looking over my shoulder at the abandoned looking road behind me. I couldn’t stop thinking to myself- “what if this road is haunted?”. Despite the fact that I knew ghosts weren’t real, I sufficiently terrified myself at the idea of being watched by ghosts to the point where I started jogging. By then I was just praying to get out of the dark. I didn’t care where it was, I just wanted to be out of the woods.

Within minutes of running, I spotted a driveway off into the distance. Seeing it made me nearly beam with joy as it was the one of the first signs of humanity I had seen since turning off of the highway and onto this road. Once I started to get closer, I managed to spot a house from behind the trees. Without even thinking, I started to run towards it. Once I was in front of it, I started racing towards the front door without even thinking about the consequences of getting caught. At first I started trying to twist the doorknob only to find that it was locked before pounding on the door. I waited a minute, but nobody answered. There also wasn’t a car in the driveway so I assumed nobody was home. Still, I was desperate to get in the house so I started walking around to see if there was a window I could climb into. After looking, I found about four that were accessible but they were all pretty high. However, there was one that was next to a climbable looking tree, so I just decided I would climb up the tree and get in the window from there.

It took a bit of work seeing I had never climbed a tree before, but I managed to get close enough to where I could open the window. At first it didn’t open, but with enough prying I managed to break the relatively weak lock and climb on inside. Sadly, the room was even darker than it was inside and I was a bit hesitant to enter. After overcoming my fears, I quickly climbed down from the window and walked in, feeling the walls for a light switch. I started to shiver in fear of the dark and almost decided to just jump out the window and get out of there before finding the light switch and flipping it on just in time. Breathing a sigh of relief, I turned around to look at the newly lit room. It seemed to be the room of a little girl as the walls were painted pastel-pink and the bed was printed with disney princesses. Desperate for some clean, warm clothes, I walked over to the dresser and started looking through the clothes. They were all pretty childish but at this point fashion wast was the least of my worries. I also hardly cared as they were all better than all torn up and raggedy clothes I wore anyways.

Picking out an outfit, I set my backpack on the ground and started undressing. Not knowing what else to do with them, I shoved my old clothes into my backpack with the rest of my stuff and started putting on the ones I had picked out from the dresser. Even though I knew it was wrong to steal, I had been pretty generous with my selection- picking out socks, underwear, some velcro-strapped shoes, a pink beanie with a monkey on the front, some light blue pants, and a pink jacket. I even managed to find some mittens which I happily put on to keep my hands warm. Despite my newfound joy, I couldn’t help but notice how silly and childish I looked in the nearby mirror. In all honesty, I looked just like I was no older than a six year old. I had always been really short for my age at around 3’5” and people always confused me for a little kid. It’s not that I was a midget, it’s just that I was naturally really small. On top of this, I was pretty underdeveloped because I hardly ever ate. Sometimes I would only eat once a day simply because my parents never fed me and we never had any food in the house. The only meals I would get were ones that I got for free at the school from financial aid, or ones that I paid for myself. Because of this, my growth was pretty severely stunted to the point where I was the average height and weight of a six or seven year old. I also was far from reaching puberty as I had nearly no bodily hair except for that on my head. I think this also had something to do with my stunted growth. Despite this I wasn’t overly skinny. I mean- I was thin, but I didn’t look starving.

Anyways, after looking myself over in the mirror and fastening the velcro straps on my new shoes, I grabbed my backpack and started to head out of the room. I didn’t want to look around the house anymore just incase someone happened to be home so I began to climb out of the window- reaching over to grab the tree’s branch. It was further than I thought so I sort of had to stand on the window sill, reaching out to grab the tree. Just as I had been able to grasp a branch with the tips of my fingers, I lost my footing and fell down onto my leg. I immediately doubled over in pain and began to bawl, lying on the ground and getting my brand new clothes all muddy. I lied there for a while, grabbing onto my hurt leg and crying my eyes out before I mustered enough strength to stand up on one foot. My other leg was still throbbing in pain but I knew that if I didn’t keep walking I would not only get caught running away, I would have been caught breaking and entering into someone’s house. Because of this, I started to limp back onto the main road despite the screaming pain in my foot. It seemed that every step brought a torrent of pain up my leg- causing me to cry harder every time. Despite this, I kept on walking for god knows how long before I started seeing buildings. After walking another mile, it seemed that I had walked into the beginnings of a town. I could even see some larger buildings further in. By then, I had been walking for about five hours and was near out of energy. Even though I had a jacket on, I was still freezing cold, and I was starting to get really thirsty. On top of this I hadn’t eaten in two days and I was starting to get really tired. I managed to walk about a mile further into the town before finally slumping over in pain and lying on the sidewalk, struggling not to fall asleep. My efforts went unrewarded, however. The last thing I remember before falling asleep was hearing a car door open and shut followed by a bunch of voices and someone picking me up. I tried to say something in my partially-asleep daze, but could only manage to spit out some exhausted mumbles before passing out.

Good start though she couldn't drive at 3 foot 5! If more is written I'd happily read it.

Thanks!

as far as the car goes, lets just say she adjusted the seat well enough to where she was just able to see and reach the peddles

I groggily awoke to the sounds of people talking. It took me a minute, but I managed to open my eyes to a white and brightly lit room. I was forced to squint to let my eyes adjust, making it difficult to see. I tried to sit up to get a better look at where I was exactly but I felt completely disoriented and could hardly muster up enough energy to lift an arm, or even move at all for that matter. After about five minutes of sitting like this, I finally managed to fully open my eyes and move my arms. At that moment, a woman dressed in pale blue outfit walked into the room and greeted me with an overly cheery smile.

“Hi there sweetie, how are you feeling?” She asked, walking over to me and lifting up the bedsheets to get a look at my leg. Just then I remembered what happened last night and started getting really nervous.

“W-where am I?” I stammered nervously as she started writing something on a clip-board.

“You’re in the hospital honey, you hurt your leg pretty bad yesterday so we had to bring you in here to make it all better. Does it hurt right now?” She asked, giving me the same sort of baby-talk voice that the gas station attendant gave me the day before. From the clothes I had found earlier, I wasn’t too surprised.

“No, I’m fine- really” I said, trying to sit up a bit to but to no avail- I just wanted to get out of there but was too tired and disoriented to even sit.

“Oh, don’t try moving around so much sweetie- just lie back and rest, the medicine we gave you to fall asleep is still in your system. You should feel fine in a couple of hours” She said, making me give up on trying to get out of what I now realized was a hospital bed. I must have hurt my leg worse than I thought.

“Oh silly me!” She started saying before I could respond, “I forgot to ask you your name”

“Oh um...I’m Sophie...Sophie Rose” I said quietly. Of course that wasn’t my real name- in fact it was something I had just come up with on the spot. I knew that giving them my real name would have me discovered and sent right back to my parents, and that was the last thing I wanted to do.

“Well it’s nice to meet you Sophie, I’m Kathy.” She said sweetly, writing something down in her notebook, “and how old are you Sophie?”

“Um...” I stuttered, unsure of what to say. I knew I couldn’t tell her my actual age as it would just lead to me getting discovered. However, I also knew I didn’t look near old enough to pass for anything above thirteen.

“Seven!” I thoughtlessly said aloud out after seeing a poster on the wall that said “Seven best ways to stay healthy”. It was only after she had written a big number seven on her clipboard that I realized what I said and couldn’t go back. I immediately covered my mouth and blushed, thinking that she wouldn’t believe me for a second. Somehow, she fell for it though.

Lucky me.

“Gee, you’re old!” She said jokingly as I blushed, not knowing what to say. She asked me a few more general questions after that- most of them being pretty average and not nearly as embarrassing as before. After she was done interrogating me, she helped me sit up and swing my legs (one of which was in a cast) to hang off of the bed. She then helped me sit in a wheelchair that she had pulled over, strapping my broken leg in to a foot-rest. With the medication I was on, I was unsure of what was happening and was too shy and scared to ask. I just sat there silently as she wheeled me into the hallway before opening a door that said “conference room” and wheeling me inside where three other people were waiting- apparently for me.

“Hi there, I’m Sarah” A friendly looking woman said, holding her hand down to me so I could shake it. I was hesitant at first and confused out of my mind, but I just decided to go along and shake her hand before Kathy pushed the wheelchair against a table where two other people were sitting. As you can probably tell I was really nervous and scared out of my mind that I had been caught running away. On top of this, there was a police officer sitting at the table with Kathy. Just seeing his badge made my heart race.

“I’m Sophie...” I said hesitantly. I was desperately trying to hide the fact that I looked incredibly guilty.

“Well nice to meet you Sophie! No need to be shy. Do you remember Steve? He’s the friendly police-man who helped you last night.” Kathy said, gesturing to the police officer who was dully reading what the nurse wrote down on her clipboard. He seemed to have a more down to business attitude and didn’t seem to waste much time before quizzing me on the night before.

“Sophie...” He said, lifting his eyes from the papers he was reading to look at me, “Can you tell me what happened last night? How did you hurt your leg?”

“I um...don’t remember” I replied. I didn’t think they had me figured out yet and I thought I might be able to lie my way out of this. He seemed to see right through me though.

“Are you sure?” He asked. I just nodded.

“Can you tell me where your parents are? Do you know their phone numbers?

“I uh...I don’t know where they are” I mumbled, still looking down into my lap. I didn’t want to talk about my parents.

“Do you live with your parents? Any problems at home?

“My dad hit me aga-” I said, not really thinking. After realizing that I had just blown my cover I immediately covered my mouth and tried to change my story, “I mean...I fell, and thats how I broke my leg.” It was now fairly obvious that I was lying.

“Sophie, it’s okay- you can tell us” Kathy chimed in, “You’re in a safe place and your parents can’t hurt you anymore. Now can you tell us what happened?”

At this point I could feel a ball start to form in my throat and my eyes started to water a bit. I really didn’t like talking about my parents.

“Th..they um...they hit me a lot s-so I ran away” I said, finally breaking into tears. Kathy immediately came over and started rubbing my back trying to make me feel better as the police officer wrote something down on a notepad. After about five minutes of telling me it’s okay, they managed to purge some more information out of me. I did my best to lie and make up stories about where I came from and who exactly my parents were, and I answered “I don’t know” to most of their questions. After about forty more minutes of questioning, the police officer was satisfied with what I had told him and got up to leave. Sarah, however, stayed behind to talk with me a while longer.

“Sophie, we’re going to take you to a safe place with other kids where you can stay for a while. Is that okay with you?” She asked. I just nodded, still sniffling and wiping my tears away.

“Am...am I in trouble?” I asked. I was scared to death they had my figured out.

“No sweetie, you’re not in trouble at all. You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s your parents who have been bad, but you won’t ever have to see them again. Now what do you say we get out of this stinky hospital?” She said smiling and pulling my wheelchair out of the room. I just complied, her attitude was already making me feel a little better. On top of this, she was the first person who ever agreed with me that my parents were bad people.

After wheeling me out of the room she pushed me into the main lobby of what I found out was a children’s hospital. She told me she had to sign some papers before we could go though, so without really asking she just lifted me up and put me into a “play” corner so I could “have fun” until we were ready. I couldn’t really get up and move because of the broken leg, so I was basically just forced to sit there in what was possibly the most babyish looking “play corner” I had ever seen. The mat that I was sitting on was made up of foam puzzle pieces all connected into a big play mat. The toys were equally as degrading. There were thomas the train engine toys, a bunch of plushies, and a variety of other kid friendly objects surrounding me. Not knowing what else to do, I just picked up this Mr Potatohead toy and started messing with his nose while I watched Sarah sign some papers with the police officer at the front desk. I was too tired and out of it to complain so I just waited there for what seemed like an eternity longer before they were finally done.

“Hey there sleepy head!” Kathy chimed, noticing me yawning as she walked over to help me up and back in my wheelchair, “Ready to go?”

“Uh-huh” I said, yawning a bit. Although her baby-talk sort of voice sort of had me on edge, I didn’t complain as I was kind of enjoying the extra attention she was giving me. Plus, thanks to me, she thought I was seven- and for all I knew she was just talking to me like you would any other seven year old.

After helping me back into the wheelchair, she pushed me out of the lobby and out into the hospital’s parking lot. There was a big light blue colored van out in front with the words “Sunshine Junior Orphanage” printed on the front of it in big, colorful letters. I almost felt embarrassed to be going into a car with such a childish logo printed on it, but I was also too nervous to ask her about it. I was however, not too timid to complain about the little kids’ car seat that she tried to put me into after opening the door and lifting me out of the wheel chair.

“Hey, why do I have to sit in that? I’m not a baby” I said, trying to push myself away from the car seat. She didn’t seem to notice my struggled though and just continued to buckle me in.

“Sorry Sophie, we’re under policy that all kids under eight have to sit in a booster seat. It’s just too dangerous for you to sit up front without one.” She stated. It was pretty obvious that I wasn’t going to get out of this so I just blushed and accepted the fact that since she thought I was seven she would treat me like a seven year old. Still, I couldn’t help but notice how ironic it was that just a day earlier I was actually driving a car on my own. Now I was sitting in a little kid’s booster seat because I made the biggest mistake of my life in telling everyone I was seven.

“Ready to go?” Sarah asked, patting me on the leg as she started to car up- breaking me out of my daze.

“Uh-huh” I replied, yawning a bit. I was still really tired from the anesthesia the hospital gave me to make me fall asleep. Despite my attempts to stay awake as Sarah started to drive, I couldn’t help drifting off to sleep while looking at the trees whizzing by out the window.

This has a level of lies equal to that of a sitcom

Yikes.

Hopefully, when I finally finish this rewrite of Naomi, people will recognize that, while there are some vague similarities to this, it is night and day different in its most core elements.

Read the next instalment and still got my attention considering I believe you're new (correct me if I'm wrong) to writing stories I'm impressed even if it maybe a cliché story in someways, though why change what's already good, great work.

Wbdaddy I need to read a change for naomi, well the new one, I've read the old one a few times, such a good story you had me check everyday for updates

A new one.Wheeere....

Let's not completely derail this thread, guys. You'll hear about it when it's done, I promise.