WARNING MATURE CONTENT ON THIS STORY

~~Friday~~

"Beeeeeeeeeep" I heard non-stop as my phone's alarm started ringing. I immediately switched my phone off. 6:30 a.m., today I have to travel to L.A. During my holidays I came here to recover from my mom's death, I was traumatized. So dad's friend said that he knows a place where people can recover from problems like that. That place is horrible, you get 100% supervision. Anyways, I got up and organised my bed then took my toiletry bag out of my suitcase and made my way to the bathroom.

I got in the bathroom and made my morning routine. I took a shower. I washed my hair and then got out of the shower, then I started doing my make up and went back to my room. I was the only one in Recover Centre with an apartment; I begged my dad to pay the expensive amount and because I made him think that everyone in Recovery Centre is driving me crazy.

Anyways, I made way to my suitcase that wasn't closed and took a black shirt with four big lines, and 5 starts on top and number 30 on the side. Then I got a black pants cut around my knees and then got a red jacket with black box colour and then got my cream Chanel bag.

Then, in 20 minutes I was dressed and left the apartment disorganised, as usual, for them to clean, and walked out the door with my right foot. I don't want to return here anymore.