She was wrong. She was incorrect. She was everything wrong and absolutely nothing right. She needed to be fixed, quickly.

That’s why Abby needed to run. She had to get away quickly. She had packed up what little she needed and bolted when no one was looking her way. All Abby could do was run. Run far, run fast, run away.

She had almost been caught, seen by someone who knew them and knew they were looking for her. Abby had slid behind something and panted heavily as the person passed by, never noticing the quiet hyperventilation nearby. She stuck to less crowded places after that.

Abby’s favorite spot was clear, as always. No one at all was there. She got down on her knees and crawled into the small underground spot and waited for night fall. It would be easier to move freely then. She pulled out a piece of food from her bag and quietly nibbled at it, thinking of why she had ran in the first place.

The pain, the ill feeling she always had lately, the tubes and wires strewn about her body attached to various pinging machines. The gasping, the beeping, the strange liquids that didn’t feel natural, but she was forced to go through it over and over again until she was better. She hated it. Every second spent in that strange place was pure agony to her. Even those close to her had betrayed her and were forcing her to go through it.

“Soon you’ll be all better.”

“Soon everything you’ll be right Abby.”

“Soon you’ll be like everyone else again.”

But Abby didn’t want to be like everyone else. She was happy with who she was and she didn’t want to change. Why should she change? Couldn’t everyone else be happy with her the way she was? She didn’t want to be ‘all better.’ Abby wanted to be herself and no one else, was that so hard to believe?

Abby once made the mistake of voicing this opinion aloud. She was laughed at and told that they were just improving her, making her better. That day the laughing hurt more than the treatment.

Abby pulled out a picture of who she used to consider her friends. The three had been exceptionally close until one day the sent her a note that read, “Hope you get better!” Oh it made her so furious. The picture, thankfully, was from before that nasty note had ever been sent and she could think back to the good times they shared.

At least she had one friend who still liked her the way she was. Robby treated her right. They had met when this whole ‘get better’ thing started and they’d inseparable ever since.

Night had fallen and so she decided to get up and keep moving, she had a lot of ground to cover. She passed an electronic store where the news was on, “Abby Nightingale was last seen in her home around three. The little girl is undergoing chemotherapy treatments, and has run away. Also missing were three bags of animal crackers, and her stuffed monkey, Robby.”