That afternoon I flung myself off the bus and ran toward home. My walking buddy , Jill, must have thought I was out of my mind and frankly she might be right. Not being able to get this necklace off was driving me nuts. I fished the key from my pocket and jammed it into the door, unlocking it. Wrenching it open and slamming it shut behind me I ran for the tool kit. I kinda hated the tool kit because all the tools were patronizingly pink. It had been a gift from my uncle when my father left us. At this moment I was very grateful for them. I opened it up and took out the needle nose pliers, he had also insisted that I learn wheat they were all called. I pulled up the chain and went to snip it. I had a surge of fear that something bad would come to the necklace. That was a silly thought, of course something bad is going to happen to it, I am going to hack it off me. I took a deep breath and pressed down firmly on the pliers. There was a loud metal grinding on metal sound. Nothing good could come from that sound. I tugged the necklace to remove it, only to realize it didn't cut. I looked at the pliers and there was a dent in them exactly the size of the chain.
The door slammed shut. I didn't even hear it open. Who could it be at this time I thought looking at thewindow and realizing it was dark. I'm going to be in...
“Sarah! How many times do I have to tell you to lock the door? It is not safe out there and with you home alone. I have to know you are doing all you can to stay safe,” Mom lectured me from the kitchen where I could hear her banging around pots and pans to start dinner.
I felt disorientated, but knew I should probably at least yell back before she panicked. “Yes, mom,” I said loud enough, but with a hollow tone. Maybe it was just my ears.