Either Do It Right, or Don't Do It at All

----------=BigCloset Retro Classic!=----------

Either Do it Right,
or Don't Do it at All

by Lilith Langtree

Copyright  © 2009 Lilith Langtree
All Rights Reserved.

 

"Everyone," Mr. Walsh started. "We have a new girl joining us at Desmond for the rest of the year. Her name is Casidhe O'Connor and I want you to make sure you make her welcome."
 
Dear God, please, someone just shoot me!

 
Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf on Tuesday 03-16-2009 at 5:40 pm, this retro classic was pulled out of the closet, and re-presented for our newer readers. ~Sephrena
 


 
 
It was the second worst day of my life. The first being when I, a ten year old, Casidhe O'Connor and my parents were exiting the American Embassy in London after replacing our stolen passports. That wasn't the bad part. It was the suicide bomber that chose that moment to explode himself close enough to my parents to make identification a distinct improbability. Luckily, depending on who you talk to, I was trailing far enough behind them to be thrown clear of the majority of the blast, suffering only non-life-threatening wounds.

Don't you love that specific choice of words? Non-life-threatening.

I was sent to live with my only surviving relative in existence, my grandfather. Don't get me wrong. Gramps is a great guy, for being seventy-two years old. Yeah, Dad was born when Gramps was in his late forties and I wasn't born until much much later. So, basically we had nothing in common. He raised me for the following five years under his often quoted credo, 'don't raise a child, raise an adult.'

This basically meant, once I was healed of my injuries, that I did everything. I learned how to shop for groceries, cook the meals, balance the checkbook, arrange for repair services when something broke, pay bills. You get the idea. I had adulthood thrust upon me at eleven years of age. What was his reasoning, you may ask? Well, Gramps was seventy-two years old and I had no other relatives, remember?

Ever since I moved in with him he planned for his eventual death and my following emancipation, just in case. He wouldn't have me living in foster care being raised by people that had no clue about the family, as small as it was.

Follow me as you see how I take my life by my hands and Either Do it Right, or Don't Do it at All.



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This story is 409 words long.