Creative Writing Sample

freckles, tough but not rough or worn-looking.

If you really took a minute to look at this boy, you would notice one very special feature: his eyes. Pale, almost milky grey eyes that hold a sadness to them that are repressed behind a cold stare. Look long enough into them and you'll become mesmerized. But very few get the chance with the way he darts his gaze and avoids eye contact. He's made it into an art form.

"Daytona..." His mother said from the front seat. He turned and looked through the front windshield at the building they were driving towards. As they pulled up to the front of the building Daytona noticed an ambulance and a few paramedics wheeling someone in. "Son? Get your stuff..." His stepfather ordered as the four of them got out of the car.

'What the hell is this place?' He thought as he followed his parents into the building. The lobby was busy, there was a boy in a wheelchair at the front desk and there were people rushing around here and there. Daytona's eyes landed on a screaming boy and a man who looked like he was trying to calm the boy down.

"You brought me to a fucking loony bin?!" He said as he turned back to his parents and his sister.

"Matty...it's for your own good." Rebecca squeaked out quietly.

"My own good? No...Me dying would've been for my own good." Rebecca winced at his statement. His father turned around to the counter after the boy before them was wheeled away. "Hi... We'd like to admit our son..."

"Ok sir. What is your son's name?" The young lady at the desk said. "His name's Daytona. Daytona Sinclair." Said his father.

"We called about reserving him a bed here a week ago." His mother added.

"I don't fucking need to be here. I'm NOT crazy. They tricked me into coming here..." Daytona muttered as he glared at the lady. She smiled at him and refocused her attention to his parents.

"Well ma'am your son is officially admitted."

Daytona sighed and looked at his sister. "I want to go home." His stepfather looked down at him sternly.

"We can't let you do that... You're a danger and a bad influence to my daughter." Daytona glared at his stepfather. "...Is that all you care about?"

His stepfather sighed and grabbed the teen, yanking his slender frame towards him. "I'm not going through this right now, Daytona. You're sick and you need help. Don't be so damn ungrateful."

"Stop! Gosh." Rebecca said, yelling at

...