Myrsky

The 16th of October 2018

17:36 Anna (mother Scarlett)

As I'm cutting the vegetables, Fred walks in. 'Hi, honey.' I say, still busy with the vegetables. 'Hello, my darling wife.' He answers. He knows I don't like it when he says that. It makes me feel dependent, which I'm not. I decide to say nothing about it though, I'm all about avoiding confrontation lately. ,It's useless and it doesn't make anyone happier.' I read that in Amanda Westlake's book. She's thé role model for mothers all over the world. Maybe if I'll be like her, Scarlett and I will get closer. It's hard not to know what's going on in her life. She just never wants to talk to me. Well... Maybe that's just puberty. She'll open up to me when she's older, I think.

Fred is putting the plates on the table. 'How did the meeting with principal Newman go?' He says, heading towards the cutlery drawer. 'Just a little terrible.' I mutter. Though I'm not looking at him, I know Fred is frowning. 'So... What did he say?' He says, trying to get me to talk. I was hoping he wouldn't ask. Of course he should now, but I'd rather tell him tomorrow so that we can have dinner tonight without any chaos. 'Hello..? Anna?' He says, raising his voice. If I want to avoid confrontation, I should answer. 'He said...' I stammer. Impatiently Fred says: 'Come on, tell me. We haven't got all day, Scarlett will be home soon.' I sigh and begin to talk. 'Scarlett has got a borderline personality disorder. It means she has an unstable self-image and she has the fear of being abandoned. It can lead to violent mood swings, impulsive behaviour and even self harm.'

Fred stiffens.

As he's staring forward I see tears appearing in his eyes. Fred never cries. I shouldn't have told him. I should have kept this to myself. I have to comfort him. I have to do something. I have to say something. Hesitating I open my mouth. 'He, he did say that it could be worse...' Fred slowly turns his head towards me. His eyes are filled with anger, sadness and even fear. I can feel he's about to explode. Did I say something wrong? Did I make it worse? He starts to scream.

'It could be worse? It could be worse!? Our daughter has a personality disorder! She's crazy! I have to live with a crazy person in my home! And it's all your fault!!'

As I want to say something, I hear the door slam. Scarlett. She must have come in when we were discussing... it. She must have heard what Fred said. I walk towards the window and see her run away. I would go after her, but she'd outrun me. This is all my fault. This is all my fault... I start to cry. Fred puts his arms around me. 'It's not your fault...' He whispers. He notices it comforts me so he continues to talk. 'It's not your fault, it's hers.' That sentence, that little sentence makes me furious. How dare he? How dare he!? 'It's her fault? It's her fault?! You idiot! Of course it's not her fault! We raised her. We made her think like this. That is our fault. But you know what? This, her running away, isn't our fault. It's your fault.' I cry. I run towards the bathroom and lock myself in there. I continue crying.

Fred knocks on the door. 'Darling, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it like that.'

I roll my eyes. 'Shut up, asshole.'

17:36 Scarlett

I'm walking home from a long day of school. I'm starving because I haven't eaten all day. I hope my mom cooked something nice. I don't really feel like having a conversation right now, though. My parents always want me to talk to them about lots of crap. I'd rather spent my time doing useful stuff. Why do my parents always complain about what I do? They should understand that I'm actually never in the mood for their kind of useless chitchat. When I tell them that, they get angry. Why don't they understand? Anyway, I do have the feeling that things are going better lately. I haven't had a fight with my parents for three weeks long. And yeah, that's a long time. I feel like the fact that my parents and I are getting along better lately is changing my way of thinking. I feel less depressed and stressful. I'm even starting to think I could maybe be happy with the people around me. And maybe, maybe they could be happy with me too..?
I walk towards the big wooden door of our house. I take my keys out of my pocket and put the right key in the lock. Slowly I open the door. Mom and dad are talking, it sounds intense...
Wait a minute, is dad screaming to mom? I press my head against the door and try to overhear their conversation.

'Our daughter has a personality disorder! She's crazy! I have to live with a crazy person in my home!!' Dad screams.

I have a personality disorder... I have a... Personality disorder. I'm.. I'm crazy... I'm crazy...

Without even hesitating I run outside and slam the door behind me. I run away. The pressure is too high. I hear a thousand voices scream. You're crazy. You're not normal. You're a psychopath. You're crazy. I wanna scream but I can't because it feels like there's a lock on my mouth and my father swallowed the key.

As I run I feel my glasses falling of my head, but I don't care. There isn't anything I want to see right now anyway. I keep running until my legs are so tired I can't even stand anymore. I sit down next to a big tree. It's cold. I don't have my coat because I left it at home. Home... Can I even call it that? It never was my home... It's just a house. A house filled with people who don't want to know anything about me. A tear slides down my cheek. I'm crying. I never cry.

I don't know how long I've been sitting next to this tree now. I have to be honest with myself; I can't sit here forever. But I don't want to go back. Never. I should go someplace else. As soon as I stand up, I realise I can't see a thing. Right, I lost my glasses. I sigh and sit down again. What am I gonna do. I keep trying to clear my mind but I can't, there's to much going on right now.
Out of nowhere, I feel someone touching my shoulder. 'Are you okay?' A male voice says. I'm irritated. He's irritating. I know he probably just has good intentions but I really need to scream to somebody right now.
'You wanna know if I'm okay? Well, no. I'm not okay. Because you know what? Everybody thinks I'm crazy. And now I finally realise, that maybe I am. And it sucks, you know? It sucks. So please get out of my face before I get psychopathic or something.' The man doesn't seem impressed, he just keeps standing there. 'I know what you're going trough.' He says. I don't believe him. Only a person who has gone through the same knows that. This man doesn't seem crazy at all, so he should just shut up and go home. I turn my head away from him.
'Really. When I was 14 years old, my parents told me I have a personality disorder.'
'Wait, how do you know...?'
'News travels fast.'
This is starting to get creepy, but I'm curious so I hear him out.
'It sucks. People look at you differently. Everything seems to get dark. I know the feeling, really, I do. I can get you though this.' He says. I know I should ignore him and run away, but I can't. Finally having someone to talk to, someone I've never met before, is a relief. I know that if I want him to keep comforting me, I have to talk back. 'I don't know what to do. I can't go home.'
He frowns. 'Maybe...' He says, not finishing his sentence. 'What?' I say. 'No, that's a bad idea...' He murmurs. I'm getting more curious. 'Tell me!' I say demanding. He sighs and says; 'Well, you could live at my place for a while. I got some room in the basement...' I know, I know, I know I shouldn't do this. This is wrong. This is a stranger I don't know, asking me to live with him after a 2 minute conversation. I can feel something is off. But still... He is here, talking to me; a weirdo with a personality disorder. And if he's telling the truth, he knows what I'm going trough. No one has understood me like that before. I can't believe I'm considering this. But.. Why not? What could possibly go wrong? 'I guess I could.' I say, instantly regretting it. 'Great, then that's settled.' He says, quite happy. I stand up and he helps me find my way towards his car. No turning back now. I step into the car and close the door. Slowly the man starts the car. He drives for a while and then stops on an empty road. 'Why are we stopping?' I ask. He doesn't answer. He takes something out of his pocket. What is it? Maybe a phone, he's not gonna tell my parents where I am, right? I can't really see what it is he takes out of his pocket. It's black. Slowly he moves his arm up. He points whatever he's holding in his hand at me. Suddenly I get it. I get what's going on. It's a gun. He's pointing a gun at my face.

'Please don't hurt me.'

'From now on you'll do everything I tell you to do.'