Getting away. My main goal is getting away. The screaming, the cutting, the people. I had to get away, but how? I was only allowed one phone call a week. My dad was supporting the entire family, without me. The girls here are crazier than me. Say I did get out. How would my friends treat me knowing i spent three years in an insane asylum. I would lose my status. Only one thing I could possibly do to get out. Make friends. I spent two years trying to make the most tough woman my friend, and I succeeded. I earned a new found status. People knew not to mess with me, I had Haley on my side. It was later than I expected, but I finally woke up from the horrible nightmare. I got in the breakfast line, still dazed about the dream. I was so tired, I accidently bumped into someone and knocked over every single person in the line. How foolish, for at the front of the line was Haley. I, her trusted friend, had caused her to spill her fries. “She won't be mad” I thought to myself. Oh boy was I wrong. I ran, and ran, and ran. I would never stop. I hid until I heard the officer talking. “Shes getting out in an hour, have her ready”. Who were they talking about? I went to my room and gathered my things just in case it was me. Sure enough, a guard walked into my room, told me the news,a and escorted me out. What a glorious day.
Two years had passed since I left that place. My life was better than ever. My friends thought I had been an exchange student in another country, so my status remained the same. An exchange student, how funny. Who would be dumb enough to take in a seventeen year old from another country. I got home, same routine. Dishes, Laundry, school work. I feel like i've made a list of things before, but these seemed normal. My dad walked into the room, sitting close to me, which he hadn't done since I came home. I swear he was afraid of me.
“Hey kiddo” he said. He hasn't called me that in years.
“Need anything?” I replied, the sound of sass obvious.
“How would you feel if you had a sister?” he asked.
“What, get another girl pregnant?” Why had I said that.
“No, I mean. An exchange student. I want to help others,and god knows we need the money”.
I sat there. Blank. Apparently my dad was dumb enough to take in a seventeen year old from another country.
“I guess...as long as she isn't crazy.” She was coming in three months. Three months I had to prepare for what I didn't know would be the worst year of my life.
It was time. She was a mile away. The whole family stood on the porch, waiting. A car started to pull up. That pony tail. The scar on her forehead. It couldn't be. Why god. I ran. I hope my dad didn't think I was rude. She hasn't seen me for years, maybe i've changed so much. I hope. My dad finally got impatient and called for me to say hi. No way in heck was I telling my dad about this experience. I slowly walked down the stairs. There sat Hailey, on my couch. Sitting next to my dog. In my house.
“Hi, im Hailey” she said in a nervous voice.
“Hi Hailey, Im..er..Dallas” I tried saying in a deeper voice than usual.
“Dallas sounds familiar, but you can't be her” she said suspiciously.
Of course it was me! Who else would I be. Your uncle!? Why am I like this. I'm so sarcastic.
She settled in. We talked like nothing happens. What will people think at school think? Apparently people at school didn't think. They thought she was my friend from the exchange program. School was normal. The school year was almost over, which meant two more months with Hailey. I would actually be sad. She acted completely different from the asylum. Three more months I had to keep up this nice act. Too bad Chloe existed.
“So, like, you two met at the exchange thingy right?” Why did Chloe say that.
“No, actually, we just met when i came to her house. She does seem familiar from the insane..um..things she posted on instagram. I've been following her for years.” Good save Hailey.
Hailey pulled me aside.
“Where were you 2007?” she asked almost crying.
“Summer camp” I replied quickly.
Something was off about Haley. She hadn't been acting the same, and watched everything I did. By Tuesday this week I had realized things were going missing. My baseball bat next to my bad seemed to appear in the bathroom every morning. I woke up with bruises and scratches all over my legs. I walked to the bathroom to take a shower. Where the heck was my shampoo. The room started to shake. I threw on my towel. Suddenly the door opened. A figure stood there, a bat in hand.
“No one touches my fries”.