Essay About Steering Wheel And Rodger Memorial Hospital

School Story
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My mom woke me up and I got ready for school like any other morning. I walked downstairs to a breakfast that I didnt eat and tried to slip out of the door before either of my parents could scold me for “skipping the most important meal of the day”. Normally, my keys were laid out for me next to a homemade lunch on the kitchen counter, but that day the countertop was empty. I thought maybe my mom forgot to make me a lunch that day, but I didnt mind. I wouldnt have eaten it anyways. I went to grab my extra set of car keys, but they were nowhere to be found. At this point, I knew I was going to be late for school if I didnt leave soon, so I ran up to my parents room to ask where my keys were. Neither of my parents were in their room, so I checked the garage to see if their cars were there. The garage door was open and my matte white audi was parked in the driveway with the doors swung open. I approached the car, completely confused. It wasnt running, but the lights on the inside of the car were on. On the steering wheel there was a note, scrawled in my moms perfect cursive. It read “look in the trunk”. My head was spinning and I could feel a panic attack coming over me. The situation didnt seem real. I had no idea what was going on, but I popped the trunk and hoped for something that would give me answers. There was a cardboard box with my name written on the top. Inside, there was every pill, bottle of alcohol and drug that I had in my possession. I stood there horrified. My mom mustve gone through every inch of my room and my car to find these things. A cold sweat and shaking took over my entire body. All I could think about was how much I needed a cigarette. My fingers were subconsciously digging into the side of my leg, leaving five red indents. The pain that I felt in my leg from my sharp nails was the only sign I had that I wasnt in a dream. Lying next to the box was an address on a piece of thick card stock and the keys to my car. The amount of questions that were flowing through my head were too many to count. My parents cars were gone and I stood alone in my driveway feeling the eerie cold of a fall morning numb my body. I stumbled into the drivers seat and typed the address into my navigation system. Despite the fact that I was disoriented, I turned on my car and followed the directions my GPS was speaking to me. Sport mode was activated and I sped through the city. Red lights flashed on the dashboard to indicated a speed warning. There was a system connected to my moms phone that sent her a text every time I went over 90 mph. I wanted so badly for her to see that I was being reckless. I wanted so badly for her to explain what on earth was going on. As the speedometer went higher and higher, my anxiety vanished. Loud house music with my bass turned all the way up drowned out any thoughts I could have. I let my eyes fall out of focus so that the lights and street signs became blurry and distorted. After driving sixty miles, I reached the destination. “Welcome to Rodger Memorial Hospital” was written in big, wooden letters in front of the building. I had heard of it before. It was a looney bin. A hospital for all the messed up teens that have exasperated parents. Im not sure why I didnt turn around and go back home, but an inexplicable force begged me to stay. Making sure I took up as many parking spots as possible, I parked diagonally