Updated on April 13, 2004

Hey people! I’m reposting chapters 1-9 because they look like crap. I’m mostly just changing sentences fragments and wording in this one but the general content is still the same. I’m also deleting some sentences to the story but nothing to important so you don’t have to reread anything.  

For the new readers I hope you enjoy! If anyone has any questions just email or leave me a review, which are always welcome! J 

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                                                                 April 10

            Dr. Weber said I should express my feelings more often, she thinks I don't express my true feelings...I hide behind some mask. So far expressing my feelings has gotten me detention for 2 weeks so I don't see how expressing my feelings are helping me cope with anything. Dr. Weber, if you haven't been smart enough to realize yet is my psych doctor Psychiatrist is the word actually, but you won't care either way.  See dad thought I should talk to someone about my "issues" yes "issues." I would be an idiot to say I don't and be going to a psyche doctor. See the amazing thing about the whole "go talk to a doctor" thing is that dad gave me a big lecture right before I went to the first session. He goes on and on about making sure I don't say anything bad about the family, I don't say anything about what he works in and I don't say anything that's has happened concerning him and the rest of the family...he pretty much said lie about your family! Which I think is hilarious, considering that half the reason I am the way I am is because of the family. Oh well...anyways I'm getting off the subject, now the reason I'm writing all this shit down is because expressing my feelings by means of speech is gotten me into deep shit...oops sorry I'm not suppose to be cursing or anything, Dr. Weber said I should try to be "pleasant" when writing, something about how it will help me get used to being decent to others, or something like that.

Since my smart ass mouth has gotten me in trouble in school and at home she thought writing might be a better median for my “suppressed anger.”  I personally don't give two shits at first I thought this was stupid but then I thought what the hell you have nothing better to do.

The notebook is purple and the witch doctor I could write whatever I wanted in it and she wouldn't check it or anything. She also said how it was my personal record of my life and she expects me to write in it, and it's my choice if I want to share with the rest of the group. David says the only reason she gave us the notebooks is because she's lost hope in us telling her about our problems.

David is part of a group therapy session every Wednesday, and yes I go to a psychiatrist and a therapy group...actually the psychiatrist thing is part of the group.

I first enrolled in the therapy...well actually my dad did that for me, but part of being in the group meant I get a private session with Dr. Weber every Monday afternoon. The group thing is where I got the purple notebook, and where I met David, Carry, Becky, Susie, Ben, Drew, and Josh. Like me they all have there own issues to deal with.  David hasn't said why he's in therapy yet...Becky is in because she ran away from home, but David and me think there more to her story then she leads on. Anyways Susie tried to kill her sister, which freaks me out. What is she doing here? I mean shouldn't she be like in jail? You tried to kill your baby sister! That's just messed up. Then there's Josh who attempted to highjack a car, and almost got killed in the process (not to sure with that story), and Carry attempted suicide two times.

We never actually learn what are problems are until were ready to confess them to the class. I personally think we should all be in an asylum for teen angst.  We would be perfect specimens for study if you think about it.  But then it would just bring even more disgrace to my dad's name.

My dad is hard to describe he has dark brown hair and brown eyes.  You could say he's attractive man for being 45 years old but seriously now how attractive can be when he carries around a gun and at least 20 security guards when he goes out on a date.  I mean major turnoff!

Lets see that last time I had a normal conversation with him was when he gave me the lecture on protecting the family. Oh yea and then the lecture about being polite to people, and the lecture of not skipping school...well now that I thought of it we never really did have a conversation. Our conversations stopped after I turned 12 and they turned into him ordering me around so I become the perfect family daughter. Its all a load of b--oops there I go again.

                                                                                                                                                April 12

          David said that the sessions were helping him last Wednesday. I think he's lying, he's only saying those things to suck up to Dr. Weber so she can tell him he can stop coming. Which is stupid considering that he hasn't told us what his problem is and that's the first step to getting out of these sessions. Besides I wouldn't want him to leave, he's the only person I can talk to in this place. I remember the first session as a group he came into the room, looking like a wannabe thug and looked around the room in disgust. He then proceeded to walk over slid his sunglasses to the tip of his nose and look me up and down, he then looked around the room again his gaze lingering on each girl. Which now that I look back on was completely ridiculous He then sighed and grabbed a chair placed it next to me and slumped into it, he then turned to me took off his sunglasses to reveal a pair of hazel eyes.

"So how long is this again?" he asked

"Two hours" I answered back

"My name is David," he said looking across the room to Josh and sizing him up.

"My name is Crystal"

"What's her name again?" he said directing his gaze to Dr. Weber

"Dr. Weber"

"You mind if I sit here?" he asked

"No"

"You don't talk much do you?" he asked again

"No" he then laughed a laugh I new I would never forget.

I guess are friendship started then, he knew I didn't like being there and neither did he. We had something in common we didn't speak much, the entire time and even now he doesn't say anything but rude crack comments. He made Becky cry once and Dr. Weber says he should try to learn how to express his feelings towards others in a more non-abusive way. Everyone knows he could be in therapy for his entire life and he would never change, that's why I like him so much...he doesn't lie.

Aside from David I guess I do have a couple of friends. Lets see theirs Sarah, Mr. Verity daughter. She's ok I guess, she's to quiet though she does everything her parents tell her to do; but she also has a rebel side sometimes. She's a blast to hang out with but lately she's been hanging out with Debbie a lot so I don't know if were still friends. Then there's Samantha, she a bit stuck up but I try to ignore that...well actually we fight constantly about stuff but that's another story. Next in line is Nancy who...well...its hard to explain, she's crazy, psycho, and a whole lot of other things. I think she should be the going to therapy instead of me but again that would be a whole other story.   The asshole I call my father said that Nancy was a bad influence on me and forbid me from hanging out with her, which I of course very obediently did not do. Well that about ends my list friends, I guess I've gotten used to being solo for everything.

I've been alone me entire life, my mom died when I was born and I've basically been raised by nannies.  My dad says I look like my mom but I highly doubt it besides he's never shown me any proof to prove his theory.  He took down every single picture of her and left only one, which is my room. It's a picture of the day they got married and I have to be truthful and say my mom looks breathtaking. Her dark brown hair was piled on top of her head and her dress looked gorgeous.  My dad actually looked happy and was smiling, although I bet if I look hard enough I might find the outline of a gun. 

I hear form the maids who worked hear while my mother was alive that they were both perfect for each other.  They were each other's other half finishing their sentences always hugging and being affectionate, which makes me grimace just thinking about it.  They even go as far to say that my father was ecstatic when he heard I was coming he went all out and bought me everything before I was even born.  Everyone thought I was going to be spoiled rotten...oh how wrong everyone was.

I have to believe them when they say that the day my mother died a part of him died.  I've heard over the years because of eavesdropping and the tsk tsks of the maids and the sympathetic looks from security that my father never looked at me after I was born. He apparently couldn't bear the resemblance between my mother and me and relied on the nannies to give me "love." Somewhere around my ninth birthday after years of having silent dinners and doing everything possible to make him realize he had a daughter he started talking to me.  It was ok at first I adored him I was so naive then and would do anything he said just to see his look of approval come to me.  Then of course I turned twelve and the age of blossoming came.  It was all over then.  I apparently had inherited my mother looks and was again the forgotten lamb in my house.

I must say alone isn't so bad; I guess the only thing that bothers me is the silence. Lets say I'm alone in a room and I don't have any music to listen too and I'm just sitting there, the silence gets to me. I remember stuff I rather forget and music helps me forget. When there's silence I get to hear the screams of the people who are dieing, they scream in agony...I mostly hear their voices. I see their faces too, all bloody; I see her eyes sometimes too. I try to erase the image but it comes back, her eyes screaming for help is the one image that plays back and back. Her green eyes staring back at me asking me for help as she's suffering with pain. Sometimes the silence is peaceful but its usually not, at night the silence is worse. My dreams are filled with images and voices; yeah the silence is what gets to me the most...the silence...it's my conscience.

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Ok in all honesty I don’t know if my corrections are correct lol. BARE WITH ME!! I am horrible at grammar never forget that! I try to figure out the commas and stuff but I always forget so please try to overlook that part and concentrate on the plot. I hoped you enjoyed! GO READ CHAPTER 2 and Review!! ENJOY!