Carrier Bags

This is just the introduction, it's about a girl who takes a drug overdose and all of the factors that lead her to it, e.g she's being bullied, her mum's a drug addict, her parent's have split up. So anyway tell me what you think of the introduction and if it sounds like a good basis for a book. Thanks x While walking back home Mrs. Richton knew something was wrong. Suppose it was mother’s instinct, but judging by the kind of parent she was, she seriously doubted it. It had nothing to do with her day, a leisurely stroll over to Mr. Patel’s corner shop to buy more milk and tea bags, meeting Mrs. Daley, her next door neighbor to chat about the latest gossip. Yes, her day had been nothing short of normal. But it was now, as she walked home across the filthy estate with one blue striped plastic carrier bag in one hand and her keys in the other that she sensed something was wrong. She dodged a group of hooded teenagers who were smoking cigarettes and throwing the butts on the floor, they turned and saw her and shouted abuse like they normally did, but Mrs. Richton was too quick and had disappeared behind the corner before you could say druggie. She climbed the stairs up to the third floor and walked along to the end door where the rickety balcony finished. She shoved her key in the door and kicked it hard, it opened with ease. “Emily?” she shouted, “Emily? I’m back”, she waited for a response and put her carrier bag on the kitchen counter. Silence. “Emily?” she called again, her heart beating faster now, “EMILY! ARE YOU IN?” She could feel her pulse rising as she started to fear the worst. “EMILY! THIS ISN’T FUNNY!” she yelled, scouring the apartment. It was then when she came to a halt at Emily’s’ bedroom door with the posters of bands and topless male celebrities blue-tacked to it that she realised, (this being the last room) that Emily would be in here and whatever was wrong would be discovered the moment her mother turned that handle and opened the door, the moment that would change her life forever. Mrs. Richton took a deep breath and felt the soothing cold round copper doorknob against her skin, she grabbed and pushed and walked into the room. The floor was littered with glossy magazines, CD’s out of their cases, piles of dirty clothes and hair curlers left on stand-by. Her eyes fell upon the limp body of Emily. Her blonde hair was messy and tangled and her body was twisted where she had fallen. A little white froth had crusted on her white lips and there was a pile of bloody vomit near-by. “EMILY!” Mrs. Richton screamed, lunging forward to hug her daughter. She was clammy and sweaty, cold to the touch, everything Mrs. Richton had expected. “Emily! My baby!” she wailed as she rocked backwards and forwards staring into her child’s pale face. She reached into her pocket and brought out her phone, her fingers dialing ’999’ without stopping to think. The phone rung and after pressing the number for an ambulance, it started to ring again a good 15 times (she had counted the rings to distract herself) and eventually a man with a deep voice answered, “I need an ambulance!”, she yelled, “It’s my daughter, she’s frothing at the mouth and I think-I think she’s dead.” Mrs. Richton burst into tears and wailed out loud. She had fully realised that Emily was probably dead. When she said it out loud it felt as if all the remaining hope had been sucked from her and the full force of the blow had knocked down her barriers. “SHE’S DEAD! SHE CAN’T DIE!” she screamed, she cradled the limp 15 year old in her arms. Something to the left of her glinted in the sun. Mrs. Richton loosely let go of her body and grabbed for it with her free hand. It was a little red bottle, the top was missing and a hastily placed label on the front clearly labeled it as anti-depressants, except Mrs. Richton knew that they weren’t anti-depressant tablets. They were her ecstasy tablets. Her hand shook uncontrollably; the bottle was empty. “No!” she cried even louder, “NO!” The man with the deep voice tried his best to calm her down; he told her that an ambulance was on its way, made her tell him all about Emily and what she had taken. She tried her best but the words didn’t come out like she wanted them to. All she could think of was Emily. Oh yeah I forgot to say that the way I write, I write the end first and work backwards if that makes sense... "999" is the number you call for emergency services in England :)

I'm starting my regsitry, and there are so many options that I don't know what to get. I hated the one I had for my 1st 2 children, the car seat/carrier was SO heavy. I'm looking for: Safety Lightweight Stroller with good space for diaper bag/shopping bags Easy to handle Comfort for baby Thank you!

hey i have lost my cloves to my dye and i cant get to the shops because im doing my hair tonight what could i use around my house as gloves could i wrap carrier bags around my hands? i need something to use please help! thanks :)