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“Kristy,” my mom warns, “Don’t do this, please.”
I spin around to face her. “Don’t do what, Mom? Don’t try to stop him from throwing lamps at you and beating you till your lying unconscious on the floor? Don’t take care of you after he leaves to do God knows what? Don’t keep Kevin alive by feeding him and making sure he goes to school, so he can have future? Don’t clean the house, wash the clothes, and change your ******** a** IV bags every day?” I scream. My father puts his hands up as if surrendering.
“Kristy, honey, calm down. I’m only here to help,” he says taking a step toward me and putting his hand on my shoulder. “I will never be able to express how sorry I am for all that I’ve done to you and your mother.”
“And Kevin!” I yell, “Did you forget about your son?”
“Of course not!” he exclaims. I pull away from his hand that was beginning to tighten on my upper arm.
“Whatever,” I say turning around, “if you ******** up this time which I’m sure you will, I’m not going to stick around to pick up the pieces. I won’t.”
“I’m not going to mess up again, Kristy, I promise,” he replies, but even as he’s saying that, I can see him searching his pockets and his eyes are frantic. He needs those drugs to survive.
I stomp up the stairs and slam the door to my room. Kicking things out of my way, I walk over to the computer and log on to my account. Then I change my mind. Isabella doesn’t care about my life. She doesn’t care if my father is back; she doesn’t care if I’m hurt, angry, or completely and utterly depressed. Which I’m not by the way. I’m in control of my feelings, and that’s why I exit out of the internet and turn off my monitor. I don’t need her. I don’t need anybody. I’m completely fine. I’m still thinking this as I pick up the round paper cutter my mom was convinced I needed last winter. Slowly and carefully, I line the blade up with the beginning of a vein in my wrist. This is supposed to cut extremely accurate; I need to test it, make sure my mom got her money’s worth. I lightly press it into my skin, and when blood puddles around the edges of the blade, I push it in deeper and move it down the small blue line a little more. Automatically, as I remove the blade, a sensation so strong and wonderful, fills me from head to toe. I smile; throwing the paper cutter on my desk, it slides and leaves a red line of blood. I cover my wound with my hand and press on it hard. Rocking back and forth, I start to laugh. Finally, finally, I found something that can calm me, something that gives me pleasure. If the feeling was any more pleasurable than it is now, I’m sure I would’ve moaned which considering the fact that I’ve never had any sexual desire toward anyone, is pretty weird.
After minutes of laughing, the blood has seeped through my fingers and began dripping off of my arm. I get up and go to the bathroom where I remove the blood soaked gauze from my hands and run my arm under the faucet in the sink. The clear pure water turns crimson. When the water returns to being clear, I take my arm out and dry it off with a towel. I wrap my hands back up before walking back to my room and sitting down at my desk. Turning on my desk lamp to get more light in my direction, I run my finger along the rough risen line on my arm. Now that it’s stopped bleeding, I no longer feel the pleasure; I no longer feel the high of what I’ve done, though I do not regret it. But because the feeling has gone away and left me numb, I log onto my account and am greeted by several new private messages, all sent within minutes of each other. I read the first one.
“Kristy, are you okay?” Isabella asks. I’m perfect, I reply in my head. I click the next one.
“Kristy, please tell me, is everything alright?” Everything is perfect, my thoughts reply again. I click the next one.
“Kristy, this is seriously killing me, please, I’m begging you, tell me if you’re okay.” I couldn’t handle this anymore. My heart practically broke when I read that, and I can’t figure out why.
“Isabella, calm down. I’m fine,” I type and click send. Seconds later a chat box appears along with the words, “Thank god! I was so worried!”
TheLostOne: How come?
Angelbaby911: I felt you hurting. My hands burned hours ago, but I ignored that, thinking it was just my imagination. Then several minutes ago my wrist started hurting really bad and I couldn’t figure out why. The pain was going right down one of my veins too. I thought that it may be connected to you somehow. I thought maybe you were injured and somehow I was feeling the pain. Now who’s the crazy one?
Isabella feeling my pain; is it possible? Is that why it felt so good to cut myself? If half of the world felt pleasure in everything that made the other half of the world feel pain, would that make the first half responsible for the suicides, deaths, and rapes? I thought humans were all alike. A burn, a cut, a bruise, they hurt everyone, but why not me? Am I the only one who feels happy when such morbid things happen to me?
TheLostOne: You’re okay now, right?
Angelbaby911: For the most part, yes. What have you been up to in the last few hours?
TheLostOne: I went to the diner, came home, fought with my dad, who’s back by the way, and then I felt something amazing.
Angelbaby911: Felt something amazing? Like what?
I freeze. Should I tell her? She deserves to know. I am the one who brought it up in the first place, and what can it hurt any more than it already has.
TheLostOne: A cut
Angelbaby911: On your wrist?
TheLostOne: Yes
Angelbaby911: Oh Kristy! Why didn’t you tell me? Did you injure your hand today too?
TheLostOne: Yes.
Angelbaby911: On what?
TheLostOne: A broken bowl
Angelbaby911: And what did you hurt your wrist on?
TheLostOne: A paper cutter
Angelbaby911: On purpose?
TheLostOne: Yes
Angelbaby911: Oh Kristy! You should’ve talked to me. I could’ve helped. Is it because of your father? Was the fight physical? Did you get hurt?
TheLostOne: No, I’m fine. Really, you don’t have to worry about it. I just got in a dispute with my dad, but everything is okay now.
Angelbaby911: Are you sure?
TheLostOne: Yeah, I’m fine.
Angelbaby911: Is there anything I can do to make you happier?
TheLostOne: Why do you even care whether or not I’m happy or sad?
Angelbaby911: I care about you, Kristy. I care about you a lot. When you’re sad, it hurts me more than you could possibly know.
TheLostOne: You just met me! There’s no way that I can make that much of an emotional impact on you when we barely know each other! Seriously, Isabella, get a grip.
Angelbaby911: You don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to. This is something I cannot explain, but I do feel it. I do feel your pain, and it does kill me when you’re sad. Kristy, I wouldn’t make something like this up.
I want to believe her, I really do. I want to be able to believe that I’m so important to something that I could cause that big of an emotional impact, but I can’t believe that. I can’t believe she cares because no one has ever cared before. I can’t believe I hurt her just by being sad because I’m constantly sad and angry and depressed and nobody’s ever given a damn before. Why now? Why would someone this caring, this amazing, come into my life now when I’ve been alone my whole life? It just doesn’t make sense.
TheLostOne: I’m trying to believe you, Isabella. I really am. It’s just hard and so very different.
Angelbaby911: It’s okay, Kristy. You don’t have to believe me. I’m completely fine with you not. I just, I thought you should know the truth. I thought you deserved to know how much you’re hurting me by hurting yourself, but I understand why you do it. I understand that you probably won’t be able to stop, so it’s okay. I don’t mind taking your pain on myself, I really don’t.
When she puts it that way, it kind of makes it seem like she does mind, but I don’t say that. The fact that she told me she would put up with it to make me happy is incredible. Nobody has ever done anything nice to me before and just the fact that she wants to do this for me touches my heart in a way nobody has ever touched my heart.
TheLostOne: Thank you, Isabella.
Angelbaby911: Anytime.
I sat there for a while staring at our conversation before I finally realize she isn’t going to say anything more, so I tell her goodbye and log off. I stand up and stretch before I realize my father is standing at the door.
“Kristy, I would like to talk to you about this suspension of yours. I got an e-mail—well really your mother did—from the principal of your school, and he said you vandalized school grounds and had drugs. Really, Kristy, what has gotten into you?” He says walking to the edge of my bed and sitting down on it. It taps the comforter inviting me to sit next to him. I take up his offer and sit a few inches away from him.
“Dad, I refuse to talk to you about any of this. You don’t know who I was then; you don’t know who I am now, and you can stop pretending you do. Mom went into her room. Now you can get your drug-addicted a** off of my bed, or I’ll be forced to kick it out.” He chuckles at my threat.
“It’s a good thing you don’t remember, Kristy. If you did, I would have to kill you.” With that he gets up, and I get up with him. I follow him to the door and once he’s out of it, I shut it. Opening my closet door, I flip the light switch and grab a flashlight. I crawl into the tight space and shut the door behind me. After fumbling for a few minutes, I turn on the light and flash it around until I see an orange shoe box. I grab it and open it, pulling out a bloodstained blanket, my bloodstained blanket.
What he doesn’t know is, I do remember. I remember everything, the smells, the sounds, the touch, the pain, and I have the one thing left that could be used as evidence: my baby blanket.

“Kristy, Kristy, wake up!” I’m violently shaken awake by my brother. “Kristy, I want to make breakfast for Mom and Dad because they’ve had such a hard time lately and all, and I can’t believe I’m asking this considering what you did to the macaroni, but will you help me, please?” They’ve had a hard time? Please. What about me? It’s not easy looking after a teenage boy and your almost-comatose mother. God, I practically saved my mom’s life, and I don’t get pancakes! Instead, I get woken up in the middle of a soundless slumber. It’s just not fair.
“No,” I mumble, rolling over and trying to go back to sleep.
“What do you mean no? Please, Kristy! I really, really want to do this for them, but I can’t do it alone. They’ll be awake any minute now, and I want to surprise them right when they wake up and have it all ready by then. I don’t want to make them wait. Please, please, please, please…” He begs.
“Aaagh, will you shut the hell up and let me sleep?” I groan. I didn’t try to come off as mean or sharp, but I really haven’t had much sleep lately and the lack of it has really gotten me moody. A full night’s sleep is not that much to ask for, is it?
“Oh, okay. Sleep well,” He whines and saunters out of the room. I groan one last time before rolling out of bed and making my way to my pouting brother.
“So what are we serving today? Omelets, waffles, bacon cheeseburgers, the whole six-tons?” I ask. He half-laughs and turns to me.
“I was thinking we could just stick with pancakes. They’re easy to make.”
“Or we could be really rebellious and make scrambled eggs!” This time he gives me a full laugh. He walks over to the fridge and grabs out a couple of eggs and the milk. Then, he walks over to the cabinet and takes out the pancake batter, while I grab a mixing bowl and big spoon. Together we make the mix and butter the pan before we pour the batter into it. When we get to the flipping part however, Kevin has to take over because I have a tendency to flip the pancakes onto the stove instead of the pan.
After twenty minutes of and many fork droppings, pancake flippings , and surprisingly only one burn, there lay 20 perfectly, well okay not perfectly, round pancakes. Kevin runs to me and wraps his arms around my waist.
“Thank you, Kristy! You’re the best!” He exclaims and bounces up the steps with the food on a tray. Breakfast in bed is my parents reward for destroying my life. I just sigh and walk back up to my room. I get back into bed and sleep for another three hours before waking up to a loud car horn.
“Ugh can’t anyone leave me alone for one night’s sleep in this house!” I groan and get up, knowing there is no way I can ever get back to sleep now. I get on my computer and smile as I get a good morning message from Isabella.
“Good morning, Kristy! I hope you slept well. I had a dream about you last night. It was very strange, but somehow it was calming, in an extremely weird way,” the message said. I laugh, imagining her sleeping with a dream bubble coming out of her head and pictures of me flying across it.
I click reply and type, “Do you want to tell me about?” A chat box pops up seconds later.
Angelbaby911: Do I ever! That would be groovy man, but are you sure you want to sit through me telling you about a boring old dream of mine?
I laugh at Isabella’s word choice before typing, “Please tell me!”
Angelbaby911: Okay, so it started out with you in a field in a white dress. You were singing and skipping, and for some odd reason, singing the alphabet. I remember thinking, this can’t be Kristy. Never in a million years would she wear a white dress and skip, let alone sing the alphabet, but then I looked at you closer, and I knew it had to be you. While you were skipping, the sky was gradually getting darker and darker and before you knew it, it was pitch black. This didn’t startle you until you stumbled over your letters and ended up singing the letters of the song out of order. That’s when I began to get scared. You tripped over the long grass and started to cry. I screamed your name, but you didn’t hear me. Then something odd happened, but I don’t think I want to tell you that part. It makes no sense to me, and I don’t understand why it did happen.
TheLostOne: What happened?
Angelbaby911: It doesn’t matter.
By now I was getting kind of irritated. Her dream made no sense what-so-ever, and now she’s not even telling me the ending. What if I never got out of the field, and I died, and no one cared. What if she ran after me and tripped just like I did. That may cause her to die, and then I’d be causing her even more pain. I need to know the ending.
TheLostOne: Please tell me, Isabella!
Angelbaby911: I don’t think I should. It doesn’t even make any sense.
TheLostOne: Will you at least tell me if I got out?
Angelbaby911: Yes
TheLostOne: How did I get out?
Angelbaby911: That’s what I don’t want to tell you. It’s stupid, and I don’t think it’s even worth your time.
TheLostOne: But… but… it’s story time! How can you stop a story in the middle?
Angelbaby911: Fine, so you tripped and I was getting really, really scared because I didn’t know how to help you. I didn’t even know if I was even a real person in the dream or not. I just saw everything happening. And then a star or something appeared in the sky, lighting up the whole field. You were able to find your way out because of the light, but it’s just really stupid because no star can shine that brightly.
TheLostOne: The sun shines that brightly. Actually, all stars do. They’re just not close enough to us for us to see them.
Angelbaby911: This star must’ve been really close then
Then I got it. Isabella was the star. She was the light that led me out of the field to safety, just as she is the light that is helping me through each and every day. Right then, I didn’t feel like talking to her anymore. It was all too fairytale-ish. Life doesn’t work that way. Life doesn’t have a happy ending. Someday, somehow, this is all going to backfire on me, and I will lose not only her but everything.
TheLostOne: Uh, Isabella?
Angelbaby911: See, I told you! It’s stupid, and now you think I’m weird, and everything will be all awkward because you won’t want to talk to me anymore!
TheLostOne: Isabella, calm down. Yes, your dream was weird, but it wasn’t stupid. It’s not your fault you dreamt about that. People can’t control their dreams, and look at the bright side. You didn’t have a sex dream about me. Now that might make things awkward.
Right as I hit enter, I regretted it because that’s exactly what I wanted her to have. A sex dream. About me. Nobody has ever had the slightest attraction to me, and though I don’t understand why, I want more than anything for her to like me. I want her to tell me she can’t live without me. I want her to tell me that she wants to be with me forever, and life without me wouldn’t be life at all. I need her to tell me she loves me.
With that thought, I knew I had to leave. I said goodbye, and even though she protested, I logged off. I just can’t have her messing up my life more than it already is messed up. I can’t have her getting me to wish something that will never happen. And yet, after I logged off, I wanted more than anything to log back on and talk to her some more. I want to tell her that I want her to like me. I want to tell her I want her to have a sex dream about me, but that’s what’s so confusing. Never in my life have I ever wanted to have an actual conversation with someone, yet every day I talk to Isabella as if I’ve known her my entire life. We’ve only known each other for a couple of weeks, but in those weeks, she has got more out of me than my parents have in a lifetime. For that reason, I log back on.
TheLostOne: I’m sorry, Isabella.
Angelbaby911: No need to be sorry.
TheLostOne: I actually have a lot of reasons to be sorry. I’m sorry for cutting myself and making you take the pain. I’m sorry for my several mood swings. I’m sorry for not asking you how your day was when you always ask me how mine was. I’m sorry for not being a good friend, but in my defense, I’ve never had a friend before. I’m sorry I never got to know you better even though you tried your hardest to get to know me. I’m sorry that I don’t open up to.
TheLostOne: Oh, and I’m sorry for just randomly logging out and not giving you a reason.
Angelbaby911: Kristy, Kristy, Kristy, it’s fine. Like I said before, you have no need to be sorry.
TheLostOne: But you don’t understand! I do have a reason to be sorry. Several reasons, in fact.
Angelbaby911: Kristy, just let it go.
TheLostOne: Okay.
Angelbaby911: Wow, really?
TheLostOne: Yeah, I don’t want to fight with you, and I could tell you were getting a little aggravated.
Angelbaby911: I was not!
TheLostOne: Yes you were!
Angelbaby911: Whatever. What do you want to talk about?
TheLostOne: Your day.
She sends a smiley face along with a message that reads, “I should’ve known that was coming”, and then launches into a majorly detailed version of her day, which I read attentively, and then read again to make sure I get every last detail.
TheLostOne: So wait, you fell in the pool at 6 in the morning trying to get a glass of water?
Angelbaby911: haha no Kristy. I was carrying a glass of water and I tripped, and I said I got so wet that it would’ve made no difference if it was a pool.
TheLostOne: So you don’t have a pool?
Angelbaby911: No, Kristy, I don’t have a pool.
TheLostOne: Aw dang, I was thinking I could come over, and we could skinny-dip together.
Again, after sending that, I immediately regretted it. My palms began to sweat, and I could feel myself begin to get hot. I can’t believe I said that, and though it was only a joke, I don’t know how she’ll take it. After about five minutes she replied.
Angelbaby911: Sorry, I had to go to the bathroom. So where were we? Oh, skinny dipping was it? Well, I don’t know about that. If I’m going to be naked with you, I’d rather have it be in a bed.
My whole body fills with relief as I read that. Isabella can joke, even if the joking contains a lesbian subject. I would never have guessed because of all her talk about God, and what I know about the bible, God would cry if he knew one of his precious daughters acted like she liked another girl, even if it wasn’t true.
TheLostOne: Just not a water bed because I tend to do my ladies… okay I’m done with the joking.
Angelbaby911: Aw, okay. It was fun and making me laugh, but if you don’t want to, we don’t have to.
TheLostOne: I’m sorry! I’m just doing homework, and the joking is distracting me.
In way she’ll never know about. Thinking about her in bed with me… I can’t even explain it. It’s so wrong, and yet my mind can’t focus on my homework problems anymore. Even though I’m not very tight with the father in the attic, I know that being gay is wrong, and the thought that I may be messed up makes me sick. I have anger problems, depression, and everything on those lines, but being gay? I can’t even think about it. That will go beyond everything that I’ve ever done. It will be like getting an F as a class grade even though you’re a straight C student.
Angelbaby911: Do you need any help? I’m a genius! Okay, maybe not that smart, but I did get straight A’s.
TheLostOne: No, I think I got it. It’s nothing hard, and I’m almost caught up in all my school work. This is the last thing I have to do.
Angelbaby911: Kristy, I’m so proud of you! When do you go back?
TheLostOne: This Monday.
Angelbaby911: So, you only have the rest of today and tomorrow left as vacation days, eh? Well I’m sure it will be fun to go back and see your friends again.
TheLostOne: I don’t have any friends, remember?
Angelbaby911: I don’t believe that. You’ve got to have some. You’re such an energetic, loving person. Who wouldn’t be your friend?
TheLostOne: Uh, everyone at school?
Angelbaby911: Have you ever tried to make a friend?
TheLostOne: Try? I thought they were supposed to just prance right up to you and ask you like in all those movies where a shy kid suddenly becomes popular because the popular kids make the first move.
Angelbaby911: I dare you to talk someone when you go back.
TheLostOne: But everyone is afraid of me.
Angelbaby911: Why are they afraid?
TheLostOne: Hello, I got suspended, remember?
Angelbaby911: Yeah, you got suspended helping someone out. I wouldn’t really call that scary.
TheLostOne: But they don’t know that, now do they?
Angelbaby911: You could tell them.
TheLostOne: They wouldn’t believe me.
Angelbaby911: There’s got to be someone who doesn’t know your past. Someone you can just start completely over with, and you don’t have to tell her anything you don’t want to. She won’t eve have to know that you were suspended. You can just say you were taking a little break because your family wanted to go on a vacation, and they couldn’t get a chance to do that during summer because the prices were too high then.
TheLostOne: So you want me to lie to my new friend.
Angelbaby911: Not lie exactly. I just want people to like you. I want you to be happy.
TheLostOne: I am happy.
Angelbaby911: No you’re not. I can feel what you’re feeling, remember? You’re sad. You’re depressed. You’re lonely.
TheLostOne: What am I feeling now?
Angelbaby911: You’re feeling defeated because you know I’m right, and you know that you’re going to take my bet and make a friend because that’s what would make me happy, and no matter what you might say, you want to make me happy. All of the things you said when we first met about me, and how I should mind my own business, you never meant, but you said them anyway because you like being right. Deep down, I know you really love me.
She’s right. Absolutely right on every single thing she said. I do like being right, and though I did mean the things I said when I first met them, I want to take them back. I don’t want her to mind her own business. I want her to get all up in my business. She’s right about the bet too. I am going to make a friend because it will make her happy, and I want more than anything for her to be happy. I want her to be able to smile and say she’s proud of me and actually mean it. I want to do something for her when she’s done so much for me, but she is wrong on one thing. I don’t love her deep down. My love for her lies on the surface, but it doesn’t matter how hard I try to force it back in because it’s too much like a rubber duck in a bath full of water. No matter how long you push it under, once you loosen your grip, it will float right back up to the surface.