HOME | DD

Description
Come the next morning I woke feeling more energetic than I had in months. I glanced at my alarm clock and found that if was only a quarter to seven, meaning I had at least fifteen minutes to get up and get ready for the meeting I had to attend. So, I got up, changed my clothes, brushed my teeth, and combed my hair. I'm not the type of person who likes to shower in the morning- I bathe before bed, and that habit isn't about to change any time soon. As soon as I was properly dressed I made my way to the kitchen and opened the pantry- it was to early for me to eat breakfast, so I grabbed a crunchy granola bar and pocketed it. I'd eat it once I got hungry, which would be between nine and eleven. As one could guess, I lack appetite during the early hours of the day. Actually, I tend to lack appetite in general. I can't eat large meals, so I snack all day to keep my nutrition up. Once I had my breakfast ready for later consumption, I strode over to my hall closet and retrieved a black case. Inside the case was paper, pencils and pens, pencil sharpener, and an empty space for me to put my laptop. Naturally I went back to the living room to put my laptop and charge cord in the case, and as soon as I closed the lid a heard a knock on my front door. I glanced at the clock- 7:15. Right on time.

I grabbed my case and went to the door- sure enough, my driver was standing outside waiting for me. What happened next was pretty basic- routine in a sense. I got in the car, and my driver drove me to the place of the meeting. We were both completely silent on the trip- the only noise coming from either of us was the occasional cough or sneeze. About halfway through the drive he turned on the radio as a means of killing the silence, because he didn't like the quiet. This was what happened every time I was driven somewhere- I remained quiet and my driver eventually turned on the radio because my lack of socializing made him feel lonely. This is a sad way for us to behave, I know- but, he respects my nature enough to put up with me, and that's more than I could ask of most people. When we arrived at our destination it was ten minutes to eight o'clock- that gave us just enough time to check into the building and get comfortable while we waited for the meeting to start. I sat in a lone chair furthest away from the other three people taking part in the meeting, as I did during every meeting I attended. The topic of this meeting happened to be the next story my publishers expected me to write. They were requesting something sweet- the kind of fairytale story that parents would enjoy reading to their children. Anyone close enough to understand my personality knew that happy stories weren't my forte- my focus tended to be bittersweet, horrific, and even depressing.

The stories I wrote, were not for the faint of heart. They were the tails depressed people sought out when they felt the world was out to get them. What most people would find odd is that there was virtually no talking during the entire meeting. I never said a word, and the trio across from me whispered to one another silently whenever they felt the need to discuss something. All of my communication with these people was in writing. I would write something down on one of the many pieces of paper held in my briefcase, and my chauffeur would pass the note to the publishers, who would write a response and pass the note back. The process continued until we came to an understanding. In the end, we decided that I would write a more child friendly story, but it wouldn't be more than fifty pages long written in my typical font choice. In other words, it would be a short story- not the novel they had hoped for me to write when I came in. As for why I would do a maximum of fifty pages, when it came down to how I worked I had a knack for keeping track of exactly how I wanted things to flow when I wrote. Since joy wasn't a popular plot of what I tended to write, I wouldn't really know how to make it into a lengthy tale. Fifty pages would give me room for detailed explanation, but not give me the chance to sneak something disturbing into the story- as I tended to wait at least seventy pages before hitting the point where my stories turned dark.

By the time the meeting was over, it was already after ten, and as expected I was starting to feel hunger nagging at my stomach. So, I took a seat outside the building and ate my granola bar, my chauffeur waited patiently for me to eat. He knew that I wouldn't eat in a car- and had two reasons. Being inside a moving vehicle made me loose my appetite, and I had more respect for his property than to dirty it with crumbs. Once done eating I got back in the car and he drove me to the post office so that I could check my mail- specifically, so that I could check for packages. I have two mailing addresses, one for letters and one for everything else. My package mailing address was located in town while my letter mailing address was located near my house. Once there I scurried inside and checked for packages- there was a small one. I took the box and returned to the car, then we headed home- I planned on starting the story I had agreed to write as soon as I was back in the comfort of my house. When we arrived, I exited the car and offered the same, quiet “Thank you” that I gave my chauffeur every time we parted ways. While I wasn't comfortable enough with him to engage in conversation, I knew him well enough to give him my thanks after he was done helping me. Within minutes, I was inside my house, sitting on the couch, ready to get to work.

The rest of my day passed by normally. I typed the first twenty or so pages of my first draft, pausing every couple of hours to get something to snack on while I worked so that hunger wouldn't distract me. I worked out the end goal for the short story, and in the end I decided there was no better ending cliché than the phrase “And they lived happily ever after”- so this story was really going to piss me off while I wrote it. Writing about happiness tended to irritate me- fairytales in general only irritated me. Because fairytales are lies. There are no happily ever afters in the real world- there is only acceptance. At around 7:30 I decided to take a shower, and when I was done for one reason or another I walked into my kitchen wearing only a towel. I rarely ever strode around my house naked, but this just turned out to be one of those occasions where I wanted to just let my body dry out without the aid of a towel. Though, thanks to my naturally modest personality I didn't take the towel off- I've always had the urge to keep my body hidden. Not because I was self conscious, but because being naked outside the bathroom made me feel like a slut- I'd developed a hatred of the human body from seeing so many woman my age walking around with their private handing out. In that sense, I guess I think like a much older woman- I've never met another twenty-two year old who thinks the way I do.

Anyways, while I was in the kitchen I heard a familiar sound ring in the back of my ears- I'd left my laptop on while I was in the shower, and it seemed that I'd just received a message. So I grabbed a Pepsi and walked into my living room, and I sat down to check my messages- it was BEN. I wasted no time entering a conversation with him.

Me: Hello again ^^

BEN: Hello.
BEN: Why the “^^”?

Me: Its a smiley face.

BEN: Is that so?
BEN: I thought it was supposed to be mountains.

Me: You need to catch up on your emoticons BEN.
Me: I hardly know anything text related, and it seems that I know more than you do.

BEN: So it would seem.
BEN: I've been looking into you.
BEN: Your a very strange woman.

His last couple of comments caught me off guard. I hadn't expected him to bother doing research on me- but I didn't know whether I should feel nervous or happy. I decided to just keep the conversation going to see where it would go.

Me: Really?
Me: So, what do you know about me now?

BEN: A lot.

Me: Be specific.

BEN: …
BEN: What will you give me in return?

His question had me stumped- I definitely wasn't expecting anything along those lines to pop up. What could I give him? More information? It wasn't as if I could walk up to him and hand him a plate of cookies in return- not that I think he'd be interested. I've never actually shared my cooking with anyone- back to the point Sarah, we don't need those demons sneaking up on you! Anyways, I didn't know how to respond to his question- I had no idea what I could give him in return. So, to prevent myself from dwelling to far into the thought, I typed up a hasty response and hopped for the best.

Me: I don't know...What do you want?

BEN: …
BEN: You really are a strange one.
BEN: Tell me about your fears.
BEN: Then I'll tell you what I know.

I took a moment to think over what he'd asked of me, and, I supposed their wasn't any harm. I mean, as far as I could tell from the story, he was bound to figure me out at one point or another. In that sense, I guess he was kinda being nice by attempting to ask beforehand- even if it was more like he was blackmailing me. So, I started telling him what he wanted.

Me: Alright...Give me a moment to think- I have a lot to sort through.

BEN: As you wish.

Me: Well...Lets dwell deeper into my fear of people. How does that sound?

BEN: That will suffice- for now.

Me: OK...
Me: I've never liked people- for as long as I can remember they've terrified me.
Me: But, around the time I turned 13- things started to get worse.

I paused my typing for a long time as I felt tears struggling to break free from my eyes. I hated these memories- but I had to deal with them. And, maybe telling him would take some of the pain away.

Me: About halfway through the school year- I believe I was in seventh grade- the school went into lockdown. The teacher turned off all the lights, and everyone had to hide in the back of the room...
Me: But after a while, someone- a group of men, started to bang at the door. The door- it was made of wood. They hit it so hard that it snapped in half. Then, everyone started to scream.

My typing slowed as tears began to well in my eyes, the pain and fear from the incident starting to give me a panic attack- but I held strong. There was no starting a story like this without being forced to finish it- I kept typing even as tears began rolling down my cheek.

Me: That was when I noticed, all of these men had guns. Big, horrible, terrifying guns... The men were shouting at us to lay on the ground and be quiet. Everyone was screaming and crying...
Me: I was over in a corner by myself- I had, picked a spot far away from everyone because I didn't want to be by them. One of the men saw me, and he walked up to me- he pressed the end of his gun against my face, and he told me “Stand up”...
Me: I couldn't move, I couldn't breath, I was so scared. The man grabbed me by the back of the neck, and he forced me to get up. I didn't make a sound- I couldn't make a sound.

Tears were freely pouring out of my eyes at that point. I had to pause every few keystrokes to wipe my eyes free of them- it had been so long since I'd cried. My tears were so potent, they burned my eyes and made my vision blurry. But I still kept typing.

Me: The man, walked me out of the classroom- two other men came after him with a pair of my classmates. We were, pushed against the railing and the guns were pressed to the backs or our neck. We were on the second floor, there were police below us- they had their guns out. One of the men, the one standing farthest from me, he shouted at the cops. “Give us what we want, or the kids die!”, he shouted.
Me: I felt sick. I was so scared I wasn't even crying anymore. I heard one of the cops- the chief of police. He shouted something back, but I couldn't understand him. All of the noises around me had mingled together. Then, I heard a loud bang. One of my classmates, the boy farthest from me- the man standing behind him had shot him in the back of his head...
Me: The bullet, blew his face off when it passed through his skull. He, fell down and his brains spilled all over the floor. The was blood everywhere. The girl next to me, she screamed, and the man standing behind her shot her to. I knew right away that I'd be the next to go. So I turned around, and I looked into the eyes of the man holding the gun up to my head.

I stopped typing for a few minutes to cry and get the tears out of my eyes- I'd been rubbing them so often that the corners of my eyes were raw. I couldn't stop the story though, I'd already past the halfway mark. Once I had my vision back I resumed my task.

Me: The man, he suddenly grabbed me by the back of my shirt. He lifted me up and held me over the railing. I was twenty feet in the air, the only thing beneath me was the floor. He shouted something again, and then I heard another bang. One of the cops had shot him in the head- his blood sprayed out and splashed all over the talk of my head. The next thing I knew, I was falling.
Me: I remember the way it felt, staring at the floor as it approached me, but I cant describe it no matter how hard I try. I closed my eyes, and I remember wishing that someone would save me. The next thing I knew, I was lying on my back, staring up into the eyes of a dog. That's the last thing I remember before passing out.
Me: That's, all there is to tell.

As soon as I finished typing my tale I pulled my hands away from my keyboard and began rubbing an my eyes savagely. My eyes stung, the skin around them was irritated, and all the crying I had done gave me a headache. In other words I was messed up. I actually wound up getting up and going into the kitchen to get an icepack- I alternated it between my eyes to try and get the pain to stop. By the time I'd gone back to check for any responses from BEN there were already a few of them there.

BEN: That was, quite a tale.
BEN: What happened after that?
BEN: Were you hurt?

Not long after I saw his questions, I began typing my reply. I had to do it single handed though, seeing as I was still trying to soothe my irritated eyes. So as one could guess, my posts took some time.

Me: Yes, I was hurt. I broke my left leg and my left shoulder was dislocated.
Me: Oh, and I got a concussion- which is why I passed out.
Me: I guess dogs can only prevent so much damage huh?

I'd asked that last question as a joke to try and lighten my mood, but to my surprise he actually answered it. Alright, no more making sarcastic remarks without telling him their jokes.

BEN: What would you expect? You fell twenty feet- the dog probably caught you midair and moved you to the side.
BEN: There was no chance of you walking out of that situation unscathed.

For one reason or another, what he said made me feel a little better. I don't know why though.

Me: Yeah...I guess your right.

BEN: Are you going to tell me what happened after you passed out?

I was stupid for not realizing that I'd stopped typing- I was lost in thought. I just can't recall what I was thinking about.

Me: Oh! Yes. Sorry...
Me: I woke up three days later in a hospital bed. There were, a lot of things hooked up to me.

BEN: Things like what?

Me: Well...There was one to help me breathe, one to monitor my heart-rate and blood-pressure, and, they put a catheter in me.

BEN: A catheter? That must have been uncomfortable.
BEN: Continue.

Me: Alright.
Me: Well, I spent about a month in the hospital- and I hated being there. The nurses couldn't find my veins- they'd poke me four or five times trying to find one. So after a few days I was covered in bruises.
Me: I couldn't take any pain killer either. It reacted badly with the vitamin supplements and the antibiotics I had to take- so I wasn't allowed to have anything.

BEN: What of your parents?

Me: My father disappeared when I was a baby- so as far as I'm concerned he's dead.
Me: And in the month I was being held captive at the hospital, my mother only came to visit me once- and she was heavily drugged when she did.

BEN: Lovely...
BEN: Well, you seem to have a liable cause for your...Distrust of People.
BEN: I find is surprising that your willing to associate with anyone.

There was a long pause before BEN sent me another reply. One that I wasn't expecting, but was willing to answer.

BEN: What became of the dog? The one that saved you.

Me: I don't know. I was told that he fled right after I passed out.

I paused my writing for a moment as I felt a familiar urge wash over me. Thinking about the dog made me remember something- something that I was teased about for years after the incident. Something that had gotten me sent to counseling and put on medication. I typed the thought down out of spite to everyone that had called me crazy.

Me: What's strange about that dog, is that I thought it was smiling at me.
Me: My last image- the only image I have of that dog, is a wide mouthed toothy grin.

BEN: Smile dog?

Me: What?

BEN: Nevermind.
BEN: Its not important.

Me: Ok.

BEN: Alright, I will tell you what I found out about you now.
BEN: The information you have given me has earned it.

That's when I stopped typing for a while and let BEN take the lead roll of our conversation.

Description
Come the next morning I woke feeling more energetic than I had in months. I glanced at my alarm clock and found that if was only a quarter to seven, meaning I had at least fifteen minutes to get up and get ready for the meeting I had to attend. So, I got up, changed my clothes, brushed my teeth, and combed my hair. I'm not the type of person who likes to shower in the morning- I bathe before bed, and that habit isn't about to change any time soon. As soon as I was properly dressed I made my way to the kitchen and opened the pantry- it was to early for me to eat breakfast, so I grabbed a crunchy granola bar and pocketed it. I'd eat it once I got hungry, which would be between nine and eleven. As one could guess, I lack appetite during the early hours of the day. Actually, I tend to lack appetite in general. I can't eat large meals, so I snack all day to keep my nutrition up. Once I had my breakfast ready for later consumption, I strode over to my hall closet and retrieved a black case. Inside the case was paper, pencils and pens, pencil sharpener, and an empty space for me to put my laptop. Naturally I went back to the living room to put my laptop and charge cord in the case, and as soon as I closed the lid a heard a knock on my front door. I glanced at the clock- 7:15. Right on time.

I grabbed my case and went to the door- sure enough, my driver was standing outside waiting for me. What happened next was pretty basic- routine in a sense. I got in the car, and my driver drove me to the place of the meeting. We were both completely silent on the trip- the only noise coming from either of us was the occasional cough or sneeze. About halfway through the drive he turned on the radio as a means of killing the silence, because he didn't like the quiet. This was what happened every time I was driven somewhere- I remained quiet and my driver eventually turned on the radio because my lack of socializing made him feel lonely. This is a sad way for us to behave, I know- but, he respects my nature enough to put up with me, and that's more than I could ask of most people. When we arrived at our destination it was ten minutes to eight o'clock- that gave us just enough time to check into the building and get comfortable while we waited for the meeting to start. I sat in a lone chair furthest away from the other three people taking part in the meeting, as I did during every meeting I attended. The topic of this meeting happened to be the next story my publishers expected me to write. They were requesting something sweet- the kind of fairytale story that parents would enjoy reading to their children. Anyone close enough to understand my personality knew that happy stories weren't my forte- my focus tended to be bittersweet, horrific, and even depressing.

The stories I wrote, were not for the faint of heart. They were the tails depressed people sought out when they felt the world was out to get them. What most people would find odd is that there was virtually no talking during the entire meeting. I never said a word, and the trio across from me whispered to one another silently whenever they felt the need to discuss something. All of my communication with these people was in writing. I would write something down on one of the many pieces of paper held in my briefcase, and my chauffeur would pass the note to the publishers, who would write a response and pass the note back. The process continued until we came to an understanding. In the end, we decided that I would write a more child friendly story, but it wouldn't be more than fifty pages long written in my typical font choice. In other words, it would be a short story- not the novel they had hoped for me to write when I came in. As for why I would do a maximum of fifty pages, when it came down to how I worked I had a knack for keeping track of exactly how I wanted things to flow when I wrote. Since joy wasn't a popular plot of what I tended to write, I wouldn't really know how to make it into a lengthy tale. Fifty pages would give me room for detailed explanation, but not give me the chance to sneak something disturbing into the story- as I tended to wait at least seventy pages before hitting the point where my stories turned dark.

By the time the meeting was over, it was already after ten, and as expected I was starting to feel hunger nagging at my stomach. So, I took a seat outside the building and ate my granola bar, my chauffeur waited patiently for me to eat. He knew that I wouldn't eat in a car- and had two reasons. Being inside a moving vehicle made me loose my appetite, and I had more respect for his property than to dirty it with crumbs. Once done eating I got back in the car and he drove me to the post office so that I could check my mail- specifically, so that I could check for packages. I have two mailing addresses, one for letters and one for everything else. My package mailing address was located in town while my letter mailing address was located near my house. Once there I scurried inside and checked for packages- there was a small one. I took the box and returned to the car, then we headed home- I planned on starting the story I had agreed to write as soon as I was back in the comfort of my house. When we arrived, I exited the car and offered the same, quiet “Thank you” that I gave my chauffeur every time we parted ways. While I wasn't comfortable enough with him to engage in conversation, I knew him well enough to give him my thanks after he was done helping me. Within minutes, I was inside my house, sitting on the couch, ready to get to work.

The rest of my day passed by normally. I typed the first twenty or so pages of my first draft, pausing every couple of hours to get something to snack on while I worked so that hunger wouldn't distract me. I worked out the end goal for the short story, and in the end I decided there was no better ending cliché than the phrase “And they lived happily ever after”- so this story was really going to piss me off while I wrote it. Writing about happiness tended to irritate me- fairytales in general only irritated me. Because fairytales are lies. There are no happily ever afters in the real world- there is only acceptance. At around 7:30 I decided to take a shower, and when I was done for one reason or another I walked into my kitchen wearing only a towel. I rarely ever strode around my house naked, but this just turned out to be one of those occasions where I wanted to just let my body dry out without the aid of a towel. Though, thanks to my naturally modest personality I didn't take the towel off- I've always had the urge to keep my body hidden. Not because I was self conscious, but because being naked outside the bathroom made me feel like a slut- I'd developed a hatred of the human body from seeing so many woman my age walking around with their private handing out. In that sense, I guess I think like a much older woman- I've never met another twenty-two year old who thinks the way I do.

Anyways, while I was in the kitchen I heard a familiar sound ring in the back of my ears- I'd left my laptop on while I was in the shower, and it seemed that I'd just received a message. So I grabbed a Pepsi and walked into my living room, and I sat down to check my messages- it was BEN. I wasted no time entering a conversation with him.

Me: Hello again ^^

BEN: Hello.
BEN: Why the “^^”?

Me: Its a smiley face.

BEN: Is that so?
BEN: I thought it was supposed to be mountains.

Me: You need to catch up on your emoticons BEN.
Me: I hardly know anything text related, and it seems that I know more than you do.

BEN: So it would seem.
BEN: I've been looking into you.
BEN: Your a very strange woman.

His last couple of comments caught me off guard. I hadn't expected him to bother doing research on me- but I didn't know whether I should feel nervous or happy. I decided to just keep the conversation going to see where it would go.

Me: Really?
Me: So, what do you know about me now?

BEN: A lot.

Me: Be specific.

BEN: …
BEN: What will you give me in return?

His question had me stumped- I definitely wasn't expecting anything along those lines to pop up. What could I give him? More information? It wasn't as if I could walk up to him and hand him a plate of cookies in return- not that I think he'd be interested. I've never actually shared my cooking with anyone- back to the point Sarah, we don't need those demons sneaking up on you! Anyways, I didn't know how to respond to his question- I had no idea what I could give him in return. So, to prevent myself from dwelling to far into the thought, I typed up a hasty response and hopped for the best.

Me: I don't know...What do you want?

BEN: …
BEN: You really are a strange one.
BEN: Tell me about your fears.
BEN: Then I'll tell you what I know.

I took a moment to think over what he'd asked of me, and, I supposed their wasn't any harm. I mean, as far as I could tell from the story, he was bound to figure me out at one point or another. In that sense, I guess he was kinda being nice by attempting to ask beforehand- even if it was more like he was blackmailing me. So, I started telling him what he wanted.

Me: Alright...Give me a moment to think- I have a lot to sort through.

BEN: As you wish.

Me: Well...Lets dwell deeper into my fear of people. How does that sound?

BEN: That will suffice- for now.

Me: OK...
Me: I've never liked people- for as long as I can remember they've terrified me.
Me: But, around the time I turned 13- things started to get worse.

I paused my typing for a long time as I felt tears struggling to break free from my eyes. I hated these memories- but I had to deal with them. And, maybe telling him would take some of the pain away.

Me: About halfway through the school year- I believe I was in seventh grade- the school went into lockdown. The teacher turned off all the lights, and everyone had to hide in the back of the room...
Me: But after a while, someone- a group of men, started to bang at the door. The door- it was made of wood. They hit it so hard that it snapped in half. Then, everyone started to scream.

My typing slowed as tears began to well in my eyes, the pain and fear from the incident starting to give me a panic attack- but I held strong. There was no starting a story like this without being forced to finish it- I kept typing even as tears began rolling down my cheek.

Me: That was when I noticed, all of these men had guns. Big, horrible, terrifying guns... The men were shouting at us to lay on the ground and be quiet. Everyone was screaming and crying...
Me: I was over in a corner by myself- I had, picked a spot far away from everyone because I didn't want to be by them. One of the men saw me, and he walked up to me- he pressed the end of his gun against my face, and he told me “Stand up”...
Me: I couldn't move, I couldn't breath, I was so scared. The man grabbed me by the back of the neck, and he forced me to get up. I didn't make a sound- I couldn't make a sound.

Tears were freely pouring out of my eyes at that point. I had to pause every few keystrokes to wipe my eyes free of them- it had been so long since I'd cried. My tears were so potent, they burned my eyes and made my vision blurry. But I still kept typing.

Me: The man, walked me out of the classroom- two other men came after him with a pair of my classmates. We were, pushed against the railing and the guns were pressed to the backs or our neck. We were on the second floor, there were police below us- they had their guns out. One of the men, the one standing farthest from me, he shouted at the cops. “Give us what we want, or the kids die!”, he shouted.
Me: I felt sick. I was so scared I wasn't even crying anymore. I heard one of the cops- the chief of police. He shouted something back, but I couldn't understand him. All of the noises around me had mingled together. Then, I heard a loud bang. One of my classmates, the boy farthest from me- the man standing behind him had shot him in the back of his head...
Me: The bullet, blew his face off when it passed through his skull. He, fell down and his brains spilled all over the floor. The was blood everywhere. The girl next to me, she screamed, and the man standing behind her shot her to. I knew right away that I'd be the next to go. So I turned around, and I looked into the eyes of the man holding the gun up to my head.

I stopped typing for a few minutes to cry and get the tears out of my eyes- I'd been rubbing them so often that the corners of my eyes were raw. I couldn't stop the story though, I'd already past the halfway mark. Once I had my vision back I resumed my task.

Me: The man, he suddenly grabbed me by the back of my shirt. He lifted me up and held me over the railing. I was twenty feet in the air, the only thing beneath me was the floor. He shouted something again, and then I heard another bang. One of the cops had shot him in the head- his blood sprayed out and splashed all over the talk of my head. The next thing I knew, I was falling.
Me: I remember the way it felt, staring at the floor as it approached me, but I cant describe it no matter how hard I try. I closed my eyes, and I remember wishing that someone would save me. The next thing I knew, I was lying on my back, staring up into the eyes of a dog. That's the last thing I remember before passing out.
Me: That's, all there is to tell.

As soon as I finished typing my tale I pulled my hands away from my keyboard and began rubbing an my eyes savagely. My eyes stung, the skin around them was irritated, and all the crying I had done gave me a headache. In other words I was messed up. I actually wound up getting up and going into the kitchen to get an icepack- I alternated it between my eyes to try and get the pain to stop. By the time I'd gone back to check for any responses from BEN there were already a few of them there.

BEN: That was, quite a tale.
BEN: What happened after that?
BEN: Were you hurt?

Not long after I saw his questions, I began typing my reply. I had to do it single handed though, seeing as I was still trying to soothe my irritated eyes. So as one could guess, my posts took some time.

Me: Yes, I was hurt. I broke my left leg and my left shoulder was dislocated.
Me: Oh, and I got a concussion- which is why I passed out.
Me: I guess dogs can only prevent so much damage huh?

I'd asked that last question as a joke to try and lighten my mood, but to my surprise he actually answered it. Alright, no more making sarcastic remarks without telling him their jokes.

BEN: What would you expect? You fell twenty feet- the dog probably caught you midair and moved you to the side.
BEN: There was no chance of you walking out of that situation unscathed.

For one reason or another, what he said made me feel a little better. I don't know why though.

Me: Yeah...I guess your right.

BEN: Are you going to tell me what happened after you passed out?

I was stupid for not realizing that I'd stopped typing- I was lost in thought. I just can't recall what I was thinking about.

Me: Oh! Yes. Sorry...
Me: I woke up three days later in a hospital bed. There were, a lot of things hooked up to me.

BEN: Things like what?

Me: Well...There was one to help me breathe, one to monitor my heart-rate and blood-pressure, and, they put a catheter in me.

BEN: A catheter? That must have been uncomfortable.
BEN: Continue.

Me: Alright.
Me: Well, I spent about a month in the hospital- and I hated being there. The nurses couldn't find my veins- they'd poke me four or five times trying to find one. So after a few days I was covered in bruises.
Me: I couldn't take any pain killer either. It reacted badly with the vitamin supplements and the antibiotics I had to take- so I wasn't allowed to have anything.

BEN: What of your parents?

Me: My father disappeared when I was a baby- so as far as I'm concerned he's dead.
Me: And in the month I was being held captive at the hospital, my mother only came to visit me once- and she was heavily drugged when she did.

BEN: Lovely...
BEN: Well, you seem to have a liable cause for your...Distrust of People.
BEN: I find is surprising that your willing to associate with anyone.

There was a long pause before BEN sent me another reply. One that I wasn't expecting, but was willing to answer.

BEN: What became of the dog? The one that saved you.

Me: I don't know. I was told that he fled right after I passed out.

I paused my writing for a moment as I felt a familiar urge wash over me. Thinking about the dog made me remember something- something that I was teased about for years after the incident. Something that had gotten me sent to counseling and put on medication. I typed the thought down out of spite to everyone that had called me crazy.

Me: What's strange about that dog, is that I thought it was smiling at me.
Me: My last image- the only image I have of that dog, is a wide mouthed toothy grin.

BEN: Smile dog?

Me: What?

BEN: Nevermind.
BEN: Its not important.

Me: Ok.

BEN: Alright, I will tell you what I found out about you now.
BEN: The information you have given me has earned it.

That's when I stopped typing for a while and let BEN take the lead roll of our conversation.