1 Chapter 1

Have you ever wondered about the mysteries of the world? The kinds of concepts that make you think about everything you do and being cautious while doing it, all because the world can be so ignorant. Yet, when I talk about mysteries or naivety of the world, I am not talking about things like 'Why does gravity exist' and 'What came first, the egg or the chicken?'. I am talking about real life problems, that matter to people, who may even be affected by it in a personal way. For example, if you look at the world right now, you are bound to wonder, where the hell did we go wrong? In my opinion, mankind are parasites, who feed off the world like we are entitled to it. Not caring what we break or ruin in the meantime. So, the world or universe have found ways to put man in its place. Every natural disaster, every attack and every war, could be seen as karma for what mankind has decided to use Earth for. Yet, it's not the earthquakes, or fires that upset me. Hell, it's not even the wars going on for years, never coming to an end, that anger me from within my own being. There are innocent kids who are diagnosed with cancer or some life debilitating disease, never doing anything wrong. Adults, that have spent their entire life helping people, just to endure pain of arthritis or even the emotional strain of Alzheimer's. There are people who talk about there being a god who made the world. Well, where is he? Where was he when a total of 15,780 children between the ages of 0-19 were diagnosed with cancer? Where was he when an estimated 5.4 million Americans were living with Alzheimer's in 2016? There are so many people out there that are dealing with things they shouldn't have to experience. Now, if you ask my family, I would be one of those people, yet I would completely disagree. There are things that I've done and there are just better people out there in general who deserve the world, so why would an imaginary 'god' help an 18-year-old girl with a chronic illness that is probably all in her head? Yeah, I don't know the answer either.... My name is Audrey Emerson, and yeah, I guess you can say I have a whole lot of time to think things over that may not even matter to anyone else in the world.

I guess you can say that I have a personal experience with this whole confusing, out of the ordinary set of circumstances. Let's just say that I don't go to school anymore, and I have had to make my own bedroom mimic a hospital room. Why you may ask, well I am what you can say a "little" sick. I have so much time on my hands that I might as well explain it to you. Since I was 14, I have been in and out of the hospital, getting poked and prodded until they couldn't find anymore veins on my body that has now become so small and so frail. I was only a 7th grader, who was only excited to start middle school. But of course I got unlucky and was barely able to leave the house by the end of the year, so I guess you can say I basically never went to middle school to begin with. There are so many symptoms that I wouldn't want to bug anyone with, but mainly because the minute I tell people my life story, I am looked at like a dying cat, full with pity and remorse. So, as of right now, all I'm going to tell you is that I don't go to actual high school and when I'm not at home in my "hospital room", I am in the actual hospital. I have spent 5 years since middle school trying to find ways to cope with my situation, among the countless other things going on in my life at the moment.....

"Audrey, what are you doing! Please tell me you aren't writing in your diary again instead of homework." I sigh and shut my JOURNAL, hiding it in my ol'e trusty hiding spot.... under a loose floorboard in my closet. I exit my dark, cold room, treasuring the times that I am able to leave that abyss. It even smells like a hospital, and I wouldn't be surprised if it would be mistaken for one by an outside source.

"No mom, I'm reading just a regular book! Do you have a problem with that?" I yell at her, slowly making my way down the stairs on my, sore, arthritic knees. Yes, I am lying to her. She just got me the journal to write down all of my symptoms and food intake, but I thought that was pretty boring. So if I'm going to be cooped up here the rest of my life, why not at least document it. Plus, I used to want to be a writer. I guess this can be my outlet.

"Have you finished your homework? Are you understanding it, or do we need to get you a tutor?" I roll my eyes at her when I reach the bottom of the stairs and make my way to the kitchen, which is where she is currently located. I see her slaving over the stove like she usually does, in which she finds it relaxing. Yet, I don't understand because it's always insanely hot as well as it being uncomfortable to stand there for more than an hour.

"Who do you think I am, Katie? I finished my homework hours ago. This is what happens when you have nothing to do, every day for every week." She looks over her shoulder at me, and I know that exact look. She only looks at me like that when my sarcastic personality makes its way into the conversation. I guess you can say this whole situation has made me more, I guess one could say, reckless. Some people would say stupid. Everyone who knows me, which sadly is just my mom and sister, only sees me as this uptight, school focused, child who doesn't know how to enjoy life, which is actually what I used to be like. Yet, I got to thinking and I wondered why I would want to spend the rest of what's probably going to be a sick and short life, being miserable? I saw no reason. So, I'm just living day by day, which is all I can really do.

"Don't give me that attitude Audrey. I'm just making sure you're on top of your stuff."

"Mom, you don't have to remind me about school work. Again, that's saved for Katie, your youngest daughter." She just rolls her eyes at me and goes back to cooking. I smirk to myself because I know I won this round. "So, what are we eating tonight? I'm really hoping pizza."

"No, I'm making Gluten Free, Dairy Free, Meatless Lasagna." I guess you can say this household was put on a strict diet after I got sick. This is just another thing that's my fault. We can't have any junk food in the house and have to eat all organic food, no matter how tasteless and discolored it seems.

"You're joking me right? That sounds like it shouldn't even be allowed in a food group."

"You know what your doctors said Audrey." I roll my eyes at her and walk over to the cupboard, looking for something semi-decent to eat, something that won't make me want to vomit just by looking at it.

"Yes, I know what the no fun police have said, but I haven't had a flare up in months. Why can't I eat what I want just a few days a month?" I ask her, walking back into our small, but cozy kitchen after I had no luck in the food pantry.

"Because what if eating what you want caused another flare up. You need to be responsible." I am shocked by her outburst, but I am also completely upset. She has no idea what I go through on a day to day basis. I love my mother with all my heart, most days, but she can never understand what it's like to be this sick. She tries to talk me through a panic attack by saying everything is going to be ok, not knowing that those exact words can make things ten times worse. Every time I am in bed crying because of how bad the pain is, she just rubs my back saying I have to breathe through it. I love when she tries to comfort me, but I have even told her that she has to do without her words, because hearing that I can breathe through it makes me think that maybe it really is all in my head. I didn't notice that she stopped cooking and turned around, so she is facing me. She noticed that I have gone silent and starts to walk towards me, step by step. "Look, we need to talk." I look at her, suspicious of her behavior, especially with her saying those very few words as quietly as she can and her not touching me while she said it.

"About what? Whether to drink milk or water with my meal?" I say, just pissed off at this whole situation, done with being interrogated and just done being told what I have to do with my entire life.

"No, I've been talking to your doctors and we have to come to agree that maybe you should start going to school again." I freeze up and almost fall off my chair. "I'm sorry I just blurted it out, but I felt like if I didn't, you would have never let me get it out there, and this is important Audrey" she says pleading to me, while I'm not moving an inch, basically still in shock.

"What! Are you crazy? I mean have you and the popo completely lost your mind?" I yell at her, getting up from the chair to stand up and pace. I guess this is what I do when I'm angry.

"Don't call your doctors that..." she says, trying to get me to be reasonable, which should have gone out the window the minute she mentioned me going back to high school, or just public school in general, especially after 5 years.

"Don't change the subject!" I yell at her. She's shocked but has come to get used to my outbursts. I guess you can say that they happen a lot.

"You're right about not having flare ups in months. You have to go back to school sometime."

"I'm going to be a senior, mom! I won't know anyone at all and you and me both know that I don't just have physical issues going on right now. And anyways, I am almost a semester ahead of every other senior I would be in class with!"

"Which is why you're seeing Dr. Nelson, and then you will have an easy first couple months."

"Dr. Nelson doesn't know what he's talking about. Which is why I don't even talk to him anymore, FYI." She just sighs and goes and pulls the lasagna out of the oven.

"Yeah, that's a whole other conversation for another day. But you're going back to school, and that's final." I storm off, but not because I'm a brat when I don't get what I want, but because she doesn't understand what I go through. She doesn't feel what I feel and she doesn't experience what I experience. I vaguely hear her yelling my name as I'm running up the stairs, but I completely ignore her, mostly trying to ignore the clenching in my chest due to my poor oxygen circulation through the lungs. Yet, by the time I'm in my room, I'm even more furious than I was before. I mean, going back to school....is she crazy?! I want to let some steam off, so I decide to go for a run. I haven't gone in a while because I haven't needed to vent in some way, but with all of this going on, I just need to do something. Even if I wanted to go for a run in the past few months though, I wouldn't even be allowed to go. My doctors don't really think that's a good idea with all my 'problems'. Yet, this wouldn't be the first time I've ignored their advice. So, I pull on some of my athletic clothes and my Nikes, getting ready to go. I grab my phone and headphones and head out the door, not even letting my mom know I'm leaving. I think she's with my sister Katie anyways. So I run out the door and I don't stop. Every tree, every building that I pass is a blur. I don't even know how long I've been running for, all I know is that I'm starting to feel it in my legs. I am usually very good on realizing when I should stop, but it was like almost all of my logic has gone out the window. I start to slow down and realize that I don't recognize where the hell I am. I am probably in a different part of the neighborhood that I haven't explored yet, except when I think about it, that's not really out of the ordinary because I just moved here. Maybe I should have waited until the day time to go for a run in a new place, but it's not like I can worry about that right now. So, I make it to another street and I decide it's best to probably take a quick rest. I basically collapse on some random person's lawn.... literally.

"Crap.... I overdid it. Again...." I whisper to myself, banging my arms on the floor in defeat. I am definitely going to be feeling this for the next week, both the pain in my body and the nagging from my mother that I'm going to receive when I get back. Oh well. Looks like I'm going to be here a little bit before I go back home.... if I can figure out where that is. I don't know how long I was there for, which seemed like hours, but I soon feel this thump on my leg. I decide to ignore it because, in all honesty, I am just not in the mood and I don't have the strength to get up and look. Yet, I feel it again.

"What the hell?!. I am just laying here-" I sit up and see this guy, probably about my age, very tan and dark brown hair. Yet it's the blue eyes that got me. They were strikingly blue. I was shocked speechless, just until he spoke.

"Well you are on my lawn, so I have the right to kick you if I want to." I gasp by the way he talked to me, but that snaps me out of my daze. I was never the kind of person that you can push around. Yes, before I got sick, I was the quiet nerd who people could walk all over but I was never focused on myself so I didn't care. But when it came to other people, that's when I would stand up to the bullies. Yet, now that I am sick and I basically don't give a fuck, I don't let anyone walk over me anymore.

"Who the hell do you think you are? I was just laying here, like any normal person." I yell at him, getting up from laying down on the cold concrete and the wet grass. I can vaguely feel my shirt soaking up the water from the grass, making me start to feel the chill that my weather app was talking about.

"I think maybe you've been out here too long and it's started to affect your hearing, because I told you that this is my lawn."

"Whatever asshole. I was just taking a small break after my run. But I wouldn't want to inconvenience you and your gigantic ass ego." I start to leave until he talks again.

"So, you obviously think my ass is good looking otherwise you wouldn't have mentioned it." I roll my eyes at him and bump his shoulder as I start running again, yet I leave him with one last parting gift. As I run off towards my house, I throw my hand up in the air and flip him off, not caring that I don't know who the hell this guy is and whether or not he is the kind of guy to kick a girl's ass. When I get home, all of the downstairs lights are off, and I look at the clock on the microwave and realize that it's about 15 minutes past midnight. I sneak back upstairs and soon see a slice of very healthy lasagna sitting on my bed that looks anything but appetizing. I ignore it and go straight to my bathroom and take a shower, steaming up the bathroom pretty quickly because of how hot I like the water. I guess you can say that I use showers as a place to think, where people won't interrupt me. Yet, at this moment in time, I didn't want to think about anything because I know one of two things could happen. I could either get angry all over again, or I could end up breaking down due to the panic that has been building up inside of me for the past few hours. So, I make myself feel numb, shoving my feelings down below everything else.

By the time I'm done, my body felt a little bit more relaxed, but my mind doesn't. I look into the mirror and the person staring back at me I almost don't recognize. The person in the mirror has the same red hair, with a mixture of copper and burgundy, the same hazel green eyes, and her complexion is the same pale skin that I have. Yet, it's almost like the life in her eyes are gone, and her face seems almost lifeless. I immediately wipe my towel across the mirror to disfigure the image, because me thinking those things don't go very well, and I guess you can say that I hate looking in mirrors anyways. I walk back towards my room and try and debate if I even want to try this lasagna. Before I even sit down on my bed, I hear a knock on my door, and my mother walks in not even a second later. I don't even want to acknowledge her because I know it's just going to start a fight, and I am not up to that right now. I feel physically and emotionally drained.

"How was your run?" she asks me, acting almost timid around me. She knows me and my personality, and so her being nervous about my reaction to this whole situation seems to be in her best interest.

"Fine, but I'm pretty tired and would really like to go to bed. If that's ok with you, I mean." She rolls her eyes at me and just decides that she is done tiptoeing around me.

"Look Audrey, stop giving me attitude. I am just telling you that you start your first day at public school tomorrow, and that's final. I don't want to fight about this anymore" She walks out without an answer from me, vaguely telling me that I can take the spare car and I start school at 8am. I basically give up on fighting her and just lay down on my bed, knowing that whether I want to or not, I am going to have to get up in the morning and go to school, but that doesn't mean I have to make it easy for her. I have no idea what I'm going to do or how I am going to adjust to this different way of learning. I have been homeschooled for 3 years and have been working at my own pace and now what am I going to do? I am almost a whole semester ahead of everyone in my grade, and so I am basically going to be retaking everything that I have already done. I look over my shoulder to see that it's about 12:30am, and yet I can't sleep. Perks of insomnia I guess. I shake my head, trying to distract myself, so I reach over into my nightstand, which is right next to my bed, and I start taking my medication that helps me regulate some of my symptoms. While I do this, I grab my journal to write down my daily dosage of medication.

Gabapentin: 800mg

Prozac: 25mg

Benadryl: 1 tablet

Zyrtec: 1 tablet

Writing down the dosages helps me remember when I take them, even though I hate that I have to take them to begin with. Yet, if I didn't, I would just have to push through the pain, which would be almost impossible. I guess you can say that without the medication, I would almost be this shell of person who wouldn't even be able to get out of bed. The medicine works fast, but not always fast enough, sometimes knocking me out hours after I take them. But tonight seems like the absolute opposite, where it's knocking me out almost instantly with everything still on my bed. I am not even thinking about how I have to go to school tomorrow, or all the pain I am feeling, or even the blue-eyed jackass, because I have a weird feeling that I may have nightmares about exactly those things. So I focus on the faint light coming through my door from the hallway, which is the last thing I see before I am taken over by darkness, a feeling I am used to... a feeling that makes me think that if I am in it long enough, I will never be able to make it out.