A day as a Drake
I don't own the BBC's work, but I own my own characters
She looked up at the clock. Quarter past 4, she hated detentions as much as she hated the pain of seeing her pale, lifeless mother in that hospital bed. She was only here because of Joel in her Maths class threw a paper ball and her and the teacher only saw her threw it back.
She looked down at her plate. Spaghetti Bolognaise, she hated dinners at his house as much as the pain of touching her pale, lifeless mother's cheek to find that it was stone cold. She was only here because someone shot her. Someone shot her mother.
Being Molly Drake was hard, she hated life as much as talking to her pale, lifeless mother who was in a coma.
Xxxxx
"Molly! Have you finished your breakfast yet, I'm getting cold feet just waiting for you!" Evan shouted, obviously not in a compromising mood today. Maybe today will be a different day for me, my mother will wake up and I won't have to stay cooped up in Evan's house any longer, Or life will carry on as it always does, school, homework, dinner, TV and then bed. Dream about my mother's sort-of killer and wake up screaming. Like they say, "A killer's job is never done."