Maybe you are here. Standing beside your best friend, cheering them on. You smile at them and take their hand, leading them away from all the problems in the world. You dance around and around, laughing together for hours on end. At the end of the night, you won’t want to say goodbye and return to the realities of the world.

Or maybe you’re not. Maybe you are with your family in the living room, staring at a tv screen, waiting to see a text that you know will never come. An old sitcom plays in front of you, the laugh track the same as every other sitcom. The phone screen is empty, no one going to answer you back. You wish someone would answer you back, and talk to you. Still, no one does.

Or maybe you are at the beach. People come and go all around you, excited to hit the cool water, or to sit back and sunbathe til they’re red all over. You sit on your towel, your book out in front of you, reading words that make you lose all thought of reality. Even as some kids scream and others laugh, you ignore everything else going on.

Or maybe you are staring at the person you love, their last breaths heaving through their tired body. You’re crying, not wanting to let go of that person. But they must leave, so you say your final goodbye and watch as their life leaves their body. You break down in tears, wishing you could take everything back that you ever said or did to them. Wishing you could bring them back.

Or maybe you are at a party. All of your friends are around you, jumping up and down as they belt out the lyrics to your favorite song at maximum volume. You join in, feeling overloaded with bliss and happiness that you wish this feeling could last forever.

Or maybe you are sitting alone in your bedroom, staring at your computer screen, reading the words of a person you have never met, and will never meet. It’s late at night, and you know that if you go to bed now you could get a lot more sleep than going to bed later. Still, you don’t. You continue reading, looking for inspiration for everything, and nothing at the same time.

Or maybe you just are.

The stars twinkled overhead, their shapes distant friends that no one has ever met. They swung around, making room for the full moon in the distance, watching over it all with a keen eye and a proud grin. 

The moon watched the trees sway in the wind, the leaves making the soft sound they are known for. The branches swayed with the wind, rocking back and forth to their own lullaby. Each tree was a different lullaby, together making a masterpiece every orchestra dreams of being able to master. 

The grass swayed to the nonexistent beat of the piece, keeping time as if it was a metronome. The grass was its audience, watching and swaying with every stroke of the wind. 

The stars watched overhead as the wind picked up, bringing the piece to its highest point. The trees swang back and forth in the wind, throwing their entire lives into the piece. The grass swayed along just as much as they always did, keeping the beat as perfectly as before. The moon sat proudly on its perch, conducting the entire orchestra from 200,000 miles away. 

As soon as it had started, the wind stopped. A stillness fell over the clearing. The trees fell back to their normal statuesque ways, the grass stopped swaying with the tempo, and the leaves stopped swishing together. The piece they had performed was over. 

The moon still sat in the sky, the stars quiet beside it. It watched as everything stilled, being a reminder of the beautiful orchestral composition it conducted. 

And just like that, everything was back to the way it seemed before. 

Prologue

Two little girls, five and seven years old, watched as their father moved the gravestone over their mother’s body below. The cold winter air blew the girls’ red hair around as they stood, the older one crying, and the younger one confused.

Their father covered the grave with his hand, his head down towards the ground, as if in a prayer. The youngest girl wanted to run up and hug her sad father but knew not to. He had just told his girls a few minutes earlier that their very sick Mum had died overnight, in her sleep. She hadn’t even been able to say goodbye.

Finally, their father stood up and made his way over to where the girls stood. Not saying anything, he picked up the youngest one, took the hand of the older girl, and slowly walked away from the grave.

The youngest girl looked over her shoulder at the grave of her mother.

“Why isn’t Mum coming with us?” she asked her father as he continued to walk onward.

Her father didn’t answer. He just kept on walking, the cold wind whipping his dark jacket. The little girl looked back at her dad.

“Daddy?” she whispered.

Her dad looked over at the youngest girl. He could feel how scared she was for him, the fact that he wasn’t being his fun self. He tried to smile, through all the pain. “I'm okay Olivia.”

Olivia, happy with herself for hearing from her father, silenced again as they walked onward.

As they walked, Olivia’s father thought to himself. Their mother had asked him to bring Olivia to somewhere safe, where she could understand herself better. But that would mean giving up his little girl. He did not want to lose her like he had lost his wife.

The oldest little girl had been silent. Or at least, until that moment.

“Daddy! Behind you!” the little girl yelled.

Her father, surprised, jumped and turned around quickly, to nothing. He dropped Olivia to the ground in surprise. If his little girl had seen something, it was always good to check it out. He took a few steps backward, but, seeing nothing, returned to his children.

The older girl’s blue eyes dropped. “Sorry, Daddy. I thought I heard something.”

Her father smiled sadly at his daughter. “It’s okay Fiona, we all make mistakes.”

With that, he picked up young Olivia, looked behind him one more time.

“Let’s head home girls,” he whispered to them, before taking off.

Little did they know that Fiona had been right. A stranger lurked behind the trees, watching and waiting as the family of three walked off.

Chapter 1

(Ten years later)

The ground underneath my feet was cold and bumpy as I made my way back in the frozen tundra I called home. The sun hung just barely over the bare trees around me, the temperature dropping along with it. I knew that later tonight, it would drop close to zero, just like it had the night before. I pulled my dark blue colored scarf over my mouth, stuffed my hands in my pockets for warmth, and walked briskly on. Just a little bit further, I had to keep reminding myself.

As I walked, a log cabin came into view. I could see the two windows which faced my way, light shining through them into the cold world. It was my home. The house all together was two levels, even though you couldn’t see the bottom level from the outside, except for small windows at the bottom of the house, covered in snow. I could see the edge of a garage on the other side of the house, it empty since Dad was in town at his bookstore. Smoke came out of the top of the house, probably from my older sister making a fire in the fireplace. Dad didn’t like to use the heat in the wintertime, except to keep the house above freezing. I walked up to the door, my head still burrowed in my scarf. As I grabbed my keys to unlock the door, loud barking was heard from inside the house. I stopped, listening to it for a second, before finally opening the door.

To greet me at the door was my dog, Teddy. As a ten-year-old black lab, you would have thought that he would have been starting to settle down a little bit into the old age. But no. Teddy jumped and barked as I closed the door behind me, reaching down to pat his head. Even as a ten-year-old, his face didn’t show his age either. It was still as dark and as playful as the day we found him. Teddy reached up, licking my fingers as I dropped my bag onto our old couch, which was right in front of the door.

My house was laid out pretty easily. As soon as you walked in, you were in the family room. There was a wall separating the family room from the kitchen, with an opening on the left and the right of the house leading around to the kitchen. In the wall were the stairs downstairs, to where mine and my sister’s rooms were, right next to each other. On the other side, next to the garage, was Dad’s room, along with a bathroom. It wasn’t a big house, but it worked nicely for us. Not too much space, not too little.

I sat on the couch just as Teddy jumped up next to me. Hearing all the commotion, my sister Fiona walked into the room, her arms crossed and her eyes mad.

If I had to describe Fiona in one word, that would be persistent. She was always trying to keep everything the way she thought they were supposed to be, no matter what the case was. With her bright red hair and blue eyes, we looked almost exactly alike, the only difference being was that, even though she was seventeen and I was fifteen, I was taller than her by an inch, which was saying a lot.

“I see you're home early,” Fiona noticed, standing in one spot next to the wall.

I shrugged, reaching over to scratch Teddy’s stomach. “I finished my book.”

Fiona raised an eyebrow. “Reading again?”

I pulled my bright red bag across my lap and dragged out my book. Fiona snatched the book from my hand, flipping through it. She looked up at me a look of surprise etched across her face.

“What?” I asked her, taking the book back before pulling myself off of the couch. “I like to read.”

“I told you to stop going there,” Fiona warned me once again.

I sighed, heading towards the kitchen, passing the fireplace on my way. A warm fire was burning there. It felt nice. “I know. But I can’t help it. It’s just so peaceful.”

Fiona shook her head at me. “Dad told you to stop going there, so-”

We both heard the sound of a car driving up the driveway. As if a switch had been flipped, we knew that Dad was home.

Teddy began to bark, racing to the window to look out into the woods. I followed my dog and looked out. Sure enough, an old dark red mini van bumped along the way, all the way back home, my dad sitting in the front seat.

Teddy was still barking when Dad shut off the car and opened the door from the garage.

“Hi girls!” he called into the house. Fiona and I went running to his side to say hi.

My Dad, Scott Baker, had always been a character of his own, ever since I could remember. He was always bright, always cheery, always involved with everyone around him and laughing. He always knew what we were feeling too. On days where I felt sick and couldn’t go to school, Dad would have hot chocolate and wild rice soup as soon as I made my way upstairs. He had always been my dad, no matter what was happening in the world. With his red hair and green eyes, he looked very much like us.

Dad hugged each of us, starting with Fiona, before sitting on the couch, Teddy next to him.

“How are my two favorite daughters?” he asked us, stroking our dog.

Fiona gave me a long look, before sitting in the chair next to the fireplace. “Fine.”

Dad’s smile was replaced with concern. “Fiona, I can tell it isn’t fine. What’s going on?”

Fiona looked over at me quickly, our eyes locking before turning back to Dad. “Nothing.”

Teddy barked once. The dog looked in between Fiona and me as if trying to tell which one of us would get blamed. He finally decided, jumping off the couch and sitting by my feet.

Dad noticed. He looked over at me. “Liv?”

I looked down at my dog. The black lab was sitting at my feet, panting happily and tail wagging. I gave him the stink eye. Even as a dog, it seemed he thought just like Fiona and me.

“I read today,” I told my Dad. It was true, I had read all day.

Dad raised an eyebrow at me. I could tell he was trying to tell if something was up. But, 

finding nothing, he just smiled at me, leaned back into the couch, and turned on our old 

TV.

Chapter 2

That night, I sat in my bedroom, my book open in my lap. Okay, it wasn’t really a book. It was more of a scrapbook.

It had a light blue cover, the word Olivia was etched across the fabric. Underneath my name, sat a picture. The picture was of a woman and a girl, both smiling at the camera, the little girl sitting in the woman’s lap. They were both red headed and had the same light blue eyes. The little girl was laughing, smiling up at her woman. The woman was smiling at the camera, her eyes lighting up. It was a picture of Mum and I, just before she got sick and died.

On the inside, each page was a different color. They showed pictures of Fiona and me as little girls, of Mum and Dad on their wedding day, of Halloween costumes and Christmases at our house. But the last page was the one that I was drawn to the most.

It was a handwritten note, written in a beautiful handwriting that I had come to know as Mums. I smiled to myself, brushing the dust off of the note, reading it silently to myself.

My dearest Olivia-

I know you are an amazing little girl. Nothing can stop you from being who you are. In your time, you will face some hard changes. Don’t be afraid of them. Just keep on being who you are, my daughter. Someday you will make me proud. I love you, Olivia Nicole Baker.

Signed, your Mum

Sometimes, if I tried hard enough, I could still hear her English accent reading this very note to me. If I try even harder, I could hear her repeating her story back to me.

You see, Mum was on the run (or so she told me). She had to be hidden away. So when she was born, her parents brought her over to England, to keep her hidden. That was why she spoke with an English accent because that was what she grew up with. Dad used to say that at one point while Mum was alive, I spoke with the accent too, but it’s been gone for many years. Sometimes I could still hear it in Fiona’s voice though.

I silently closed the scrapbook, placing it on my nightstand. Just as I did, there was a sound at the door. A scratch, then another, followed by a long whine.

I pulled myself out of bed and opened the door. In trotted Teddy, as happy as could be, 

before jumping on my bed.

Teddy had always been my dog, no matter what happened. He would always choose my side, always sleep with me (for nearly ten years), would always sit next to my chair at dinner. I didn’t understand why.

I remember the day I met Teddy. I was getting home from school, on the bus, with Fiona. The bus always dropped us off at the very edge of our driveway, so we had to walk the mile by ourselves. I remember we were walking up the driveway, when a dog came out of nowhere and started barking at us, running to us. I remember screaming and ducking behind Fiona. Fiona was screaming too. But then the dog stopped barking. There was silence, except for the thumping of a tail. I looked out from behind Fiona, to see a black lab sitting a foot in front of us, panting, his tail wagging.

I slowly walked up to the dog, sticking my hand out. Fiona had told me not to, but I did anyway. The dog just sat there, until I touched his head. He then reached up and licked my face hard. I giggled, and hugged the dog, screaming “Mine!”

Since that day, almost ten years ago, Teddy had been with us. He hadn’t left my side since. Okay, he had once, but I didn’t like to think about it.

I closed my door, and climbed into bed, pulling the covers around me.

“Move,” I mumbled to the dog, pulling the covers out from underneath him.

The dog grumbled back at me but moved just enough to where I could get the covers out. I turned off the light, settling into bed, just as Teddy curled up right in between my legs. Great. I knew he wouldn’t move the whole night, so I fell asleep like that, my legs pulled apart.

I woke up around one in the morning, when I finally noticed Teddy was gone. I looked around the room, calling his name into the darkness, before hitting the light next to my bed. The wind hit the top of my window, the only part uncovered by snow, making a whistling noise.

Outside my bedroom, I could see a light on, and hear noises. Whispers from somewhere in the house. Someone was awake. 

I opened my bedroom door slightly, to see the light coming from upstairs, in the kitchen.

“She isn’t ready!” I heard a man whisper. It sounded quite a bit like my father.

“The change was last week, she has to be ready by now!” someone else, a girl, whispered. Her voice I hadn’t heard before.

“I still have so much to teach her!” Dad whispered again.

I was starting to get worried. Something was up.

“There’s not enough time!” a new voice whispered. It was a boy's voice, and not one I had heard before.

I wanted to creep up the stairs to see who was there with my father. It wasn’t every day that we had kids in the house in the middle of the night. Heck, it never happened.

But just as I took a step up the stairs, the lights shut off above me. I immediately froze.

From upstairs, I heard someone say, “Well crap.”

"I want to be a writer." 

Everyone said I couldn't do it. I couldn't write a book that people would enjoy. My father thought I was crazy, saying I would change my mind eventually and go into something more relatable, like medicine or physics. My mother's only words were 'good for you' before she went back into the stance where my grades are most important. My sister scoffed at me. My best friend told me my writing wasn't good enough. 

What I wanted to do was stripped away from me faster than anything else. No one believed me, or let me do what I wanted to do. That's freedom to me. 

But still, they wouldn't believe me. No matter what I do, I'm stuck in this desolate place where I can't get out anytime soon. No one believes me. No one cares to say otherwise or to push me forwards. 

But that's okay. I don't need them to help me with my goal. They think I can't do it, just watch. I'll prove them wrong. 

She sits next to me, her tongue out and panting away from the dry heat. I am sitting next to her, my arms wrapped around her body protectively. Tears fall down my face, falling onto her white fur. 

"Come on Daisy, you don't have to die!" I whispered to my polar bear of a dog. 

Daisy didn't answer. She kept panting. 

The poor baby hadn't eaten in a week and had stopped going outside, and moving around. She was only nine years old. She shouldn't die yet, right? 

It brought me to tears to think of a time without her by my side. My big fluffball, who I shared many birthday parties with, and had gone through the rough times by my side. The dog that I loved, and always would love. 

Mom finally had to pull me off of her, but I didn't go without a fight. I kicked and screamed, trying to get back to Daisy's side. I would not leave her, no matter what. I tried so hard to get away, to be able to go and see my dog one last time. But Dad closed the car door and drove off. 

I never saw Daisy again. 

Sit down, she said. So I did. I sat, and I stared at the blank screen in front of me. Write, she said. I set my hands on the keyboard. The first words that came from my hand, read "There you go." 

The story crafted itself from there, as much as it could. I stayed at my keyboard, the invisible person behind me telling me to keep going. One hundred words, she said. You just have to write one hundred words. 

And so I did. I didn't check my phone, or my other tabs, no matter what. 

There you go. 

She sat alone on a park bench, waiting. For what, no one knew. She sat, staring at the people who passed her, her eyes curious and her mouth daring to call to them, to say hi. But she never did. She simply sat there, staring as the people passed. 

Every week, you could find her there. The exact same girl, her hair twisted up into a bun, and her clothes always the same except for the color of her shirt. She would stare at the people who passed her, her eyes crying out to them, but was silent. When the sun had finally gone down, she would leave. Where she went was a mystery to everyone around her. 

No one ever sat next to her. She was there day and night, waiting for someone to do something. But no one did. Everyone figured she was waiting for someone, or else just really weird. She wasn't normal, people would whisper later, after coming home. She's just a girl, others would whisper. 

Still, no one really knew this girl. the girl with the daring eyes. The girl who never spoke, and never asked anyone anything. No one even dared ask her what her name was. She simply sat there, waiting and hoping. 

The mirror stares at me, showing me what I thought wouldn't be true. The lines on my body, the frizziness of my hair, the fat on my legs. It's all there. I try and try to get rid of all the problems and to be able to move on from this, but somehow I can't. 

I suck in my stomach, to see if that will help any. It doesn't. I just look like I'm trying too hard. People will laugh at me for this. They will laugh that I can't be just like the rest of them, with no hips, and no stomach. I can't be perfect, with their luscious hair and perfect white smile. They won't understand. The won't understand that I try not to eat as much, and exercise more. All they see is the fat, sitting there in front of them. 

I pull my frizzy hair into a bun, but it makes no use. The small curls still come off, sticking out for everyone to see. I look like a homeless person. Not to be mean to homeless people, but it wasn't pretty. I tried slicking my hair back into the perfect bun it's supposed to be. All the curls do is bounce right back. 

I pull the straps of my black leotard over my shoulders, the pink tights itchy after only being on for a few minutes. I stare at myself in the mirror. The others definitely will laugh. I don't look like a ballerina. I look like a freak. 

From the other room, I can hear my little sister calling to play with me. "In a second!" I call back to her. I try to tighten my waistline further, but it doesn't go. I try to slick back my hair, thinking about what others will think about me there. The curls still fall away from my head. 

I plaster on a fake smile and race out, to play with my little sister. She doesn't need to know what I think about. About the girls who control my every thought, just with their taunting and their perfect selves. I pretend they don't matter and keep on playing. They may take away all of my self-esteem, but they can't take away my little sister. 

Let me know how you feel. When the words "I don't care" ripple through your mind, chasing your pretty thoughts of happiness and laughter away and setting in thoughts of monsters that can change people within minutes of being with them. This can completely change a person within seconds. That's what it did to me. 

I never thought I would be able to see the light again. I thought this world would be all kinds of darkness and silence for a long time. There would be no happiness, or laughter in my life anymore. Only the pain beyond all that. I was questioning my every move. Was I doing the right thing? I had no clue. All I knew was that I was doing something wrong, and I didn't know what. 

It drove me to insanity. It sucked out all the excitement I had and replaced it with pure horror for the future. My life was in complete ruins. Even with everything going on, this world was a complete mess. I didn't want to get out of bed. I didn't want to talk to people. I didn't know what to do. 

I still don't know what to do. I wish I did because then I could get up and move around and be the person I want to be. Who I really am. But still, this darkness drags me down and creates someone I'm not supposed to be. Someone I'm not.

Help.