I walk outside and see my dads black truck. I get in the truck. He doesn't speak to me. I don't speak to him either. He's always blamed me for my problems. He thinks it's my fault that I was sent to the psych ward, but it's his. It's his fault. I hate him. I miss my mom. But she's gone now. I like to think she's in a better place, but, who knows? If heaven is only a fantasy, where is she? Does she just follow me, watching me live in my own sorrow and remorse? These never ending thoughts are part of my anxiety. My mind is always overworking.

We pull up to the house. It's been two years since I last seen this house. It then occurred to me that I may be attending the same high school. I turn to my dad.

"I'm not gonna be-"

He interrupts me. As if reading my mind, he shouts,

"No! You're not gonna be going to the same school! Just shut the hell up! You're such a disgrace. I don't even want to talk to you."

So we get out the car. I walk in the house.

"I can't believe you'd be as crazy as to cut yourself. I wish you would've died while doing it."

I slam my hand on the kitchen island.

"Dad. I knew this already! I knew you didn't care! Have you ever thought that you might be part of the reason I did it?"

He looks at me.

"No. You did it because your a crazy, stupid, attention seeking, little girl. All you want is attention."

"Mhm." I say, going up to my room.

I look around my room. Everything is so familiar. The same way I left it. Clothes all over the floor, coats not hung up, bed sheets off the bed. I begin to clean up.

My dad doesn't make dinner that night, so I take it upon myself to order it. My dad provided me with money each week, so I could feed and buy clothes by myself. Also so, if anyone asked, I couldn't say he didn't take care of me. So I ordered some food that night. I ate it, and then went to bed. I was already signed up for school. So I'd be starting that next day. Monday. So I had to go to bed, right after I ate.

My PTSD and Anxiety kept me up that night. It took me three hours to fall asleep, and then I woke up because I was having nightmares about the abuse my dad puts me through. I wake up and take some more of my PTSD medication. Then, I go back to sleep.

THE MORNING I BEGAN SCHOOL:

Monday :)

I wake up, feeling very afraid. I am feeling extremely nervous. My anxiety was taking over me. I get up and get ready for my first day of school. I'd be attending Bolding High School. BHS. I personally think it stands for BU-HULL-SHIT. Grade 12. After brushing my jet black hair and letting it hang, I get dressed. I quickly put on a black long sleeve turtleneck pullover, and some black leggings. I then throw on some black doc martens. I put on some chapstick. I add winged eyeliner to my eyes, that are just as pale as the rest of me. At least my eyes are brown. Then I leave.

As I am walking to school, my mind begins to wander and my heart begins to race. My mind travels into the dark black hole of anxiety. I worry about what people will think of me, if I will get bullied like I did at my old school, and if I'd have a panic attack, and if something would trigger my PTSD.

"Stop." I mumble to myself.

I did this because when I was in the psych ward, the psychiatrist would often tell me that when my mind wanders, I should tell myself to stop out loud, and then try to distract myself. I put my headphones on, and listen to Shawn Mendes. I begin to sing to it when some people run by me and bumps into me, knocking me to the sidewalk. I grunt. Him and his two friends look back at me.

"My bad!" He shouts. His backpack had a green BHS logo. Oh no. Those idiots went to my school.

I get up and dust myself off. I put my headphones back in and continue to walk. When I arrive to the school entrance, I walk in and go to the office. I see the boy who bumped into me, talking to the lady at the desk.

"Why does the principal want to see me, I didn't do anything!". He sounded serious but had a smirk on his face. He had a Hispanic accent.

"What are you staring at?" He asks, glaring back at me.

My nerves get the best of me, and I jerk my head away.

I wasn't staring at him on purpose. I was staring at him because he was the one who bumped into me. Yeah he was cute, but I don't like bad boys. I will never date a bad boy.

I get my schedule and head to my classroom. When I enter, a girl named Claire comes up to me.

"Hi! I'm Claire!" She says, digging her brown eyes into mine, and she tucks her short blonde hair behind her ear.

I nod. I didn't like to make friends. My anxiety didn't let me trust them. Her tone begins to sound annoyed.

"Um, your name?" She asks.

I sigh. "Brianna." I mumble.

"Hi Brianna! Can I show you around the school?" She asks.

"No." I say.

I see the confused expression on her face, so I add something to make my sentence seem more nice.

"I will figure it out. Don't wanna bother you." I half laugh.