Nine.

Lately, all I do is sleep. I feel so tired, all the time. My leg smells, which probably isn't good, but what am I supposed to do? Go to the hospital? Right. Well, given how much sleeping I've been doing, I've been having more and more dreams. I feel like I never used to dream, certainly not as much as I do now. Last night, I had the oddest dream. Normally, it's either about me and Tommy, or me and this town. For once, my parents were there. I was laying on the floor, at their feet, crying, shaking, begging them to want me. And they just smiled down at me, like towers. They never spoke, they just smiled. I don't think I'm ever going to understand why they didn't say anything, but smiling was more than I could have asked for honestly. They never smiled at me. The only time they smiled was when we went to Disney World. I had refused to go on any roller coasters, I was so afraid of heights. Tommy loved them. He wanted me to go so desperately. I finally worked up the guts to go on that stupid Splash Mountain ride and I don't think I've ever seen Tommy so happy. We came running off that ride, my head still spinning, and that was it. I remember so clearly the way my mother's eyes lit up, and the corners of her mouth turned upwards. My father took her hand and I saw it: their smiles, directly pointed at me, not Tommy, me. I never was sure if they were actually happy with me, or if they were just happy because I'd chosen to make Tommy happy. They knew I hadn't enjoyed that ride, I almost peed myself. But they saw how I'd done it for Tommy. I think that's why they smiled.

I stood up from my perch in the corner, and grabbed an old pair of pants. I slid them on reluctantly over the gash in my knee. I didn't want people to look at me even more than usual if I was going to finally make an attempt to go outside into the real world. I hobbled over to the broken "door", or opening, rather, and climbed out slowly. I looked down towards the street, past my dumpster. I saw a few people, but not as many as usual. I figured if there was a time, it was now. I hobbled along, the pain growing. It felt harder and harder to lift that leg and bend that wound. I finally reached a spot where there seemed to be only one person around. She was dealing with her car so I figured she'd be distracted, not noticing the poor broken girl on the side of the road. I sat down on the curb, not far from her car. She still hadn't noticed. That's when her phone rang. She clicked the button after struggling to find her phone and responded, "Yes, this is Spring." At first, the conversation had no interest for myself until I heard something. "Oh, Spencer, hi." Spencer? As in my Spencer? The baseball guy, Spencer? She kept chatting, seeming a bit shaken. They were talking about a car, possibly this car? That's when I heard him, just barely, but I heard him. "I'd like to apologize. I'm sorry for yelling at you." What was he talking about? More guilt rushed to my head as I thought about all those times Spencer had helped me. He was so good to me, and I shot him down every time, except to use his shower or his money for waffles. I never needed that and he gave it to me anyways. That's when I realized I was already hobbling back towards my nook, or rather, back towards Spencer's apartment.