My mom came back, and gave me some more medicine. Apparently, my fever gradually going down again. I was pretty happy, but I was suspicious of my mom. She was really happy all the time. I don't mean "Super Happy Optimistic" mom, as she usually means. No, no, I mean "Fucking Supercalifragilisticexpialidociously Happy" mom. And that doesn't happen often. I tried to ask her about it, but she just got this attitude,

"What's wrong with me being happy?" So I gave up. I was lounging in my room, debating if I should tell her how and why dad died. I decided not to, since I didn't know how to tell her. "Aye, ma, I was talking to this guy who stalks me and he said he killed the guy who killed dad. The feels, right?" Yeah.......no. "Hey, mom, a guy killed dad so he could trade dad's soul for his dead daughter's soul. Ain't that cute?" No. Just no. I mean, how do you tell something like that to your own mother? I couldn't ruin her happiness now. Especially now, when it's Christmastime! I decided to check my computer, since I haven't done that in some time. I checked my E-mails, and got a shock. About.........twelve E-mails from Tara? Yeah.....she'll be real happy now, eh? I checked them, even though I knew that 70% were about her being really angry that I wasn't answering her. She was also mocking me about Patrick. You know, the usual "K-I-S-S-I-N-G" stuff. She has quite a few friends and - get this - a crush! My little Tara is growing up! Awweeeeee! I decided to E-mail her back. I realized how much she'd missed! I mean, she doesn't know that I have scars on my face. She doesn't know who Sophie/Cathy is. She doesn't know what David's name is! Everything!

I explained everything to her, and I was trying to sound happy. I might try make my life better, even though society won't accept me as 'normal'. I shouldn't care...........but I do. I just do. It's something chewing my mind, trying to make the truth sink in that I can't easily make new friends. It'll be much harder from now on, that's what I know. I sighed, and sent her my mail. I then searched up some random things until something hit my eye.

I instantly clicked on it without a second thought. I was on the USA news, same place as where my story was. I started reading.

It was a short article, but I was staring at it in shock. They....they.....they killed a boy. Just a young boy........and they made him suffer this much. I realized that he could kill anyone he wanted to but.......a child? I suffered a great deal from these scars! A child could die from the pain itself!

"Alice, you're supposed to be resting!" I quickly closed the page. "What were you looking at?"

I sighed. "Nothing, mom. I was watching a video again."

She looked at me for a moment, then sighed. "Alright. But go to bed now!" I nodded, and went to bed, and since it was five p.m., I took one of my favorite books, "The Hunger Games", and tried to sink into the story, but.....I couldn't. I was too shocked. I decided to face him, and confront him about what he's done, but he wasn't under the window.

"Thank god." I muttered. Even though I really had to try and straighten the fucker up, I didn't really like the thought of it. I was reading again when my mom came back in.

"Sweetie, remember when you asked me why I was so happy?"

"No, mom. I don't remember asking you that very same thing two hours ago." I replied sarcastically.

She ignored my comment. "Well, here's why! I planned something for us for Christmas Eve!" What? What? Say it now! "We're going to a dance!" Fuck my life.