A/N: Okay, there's a development: I am writing the chapters by nine-year- old Annie and my friend, Nikki, is writing the replies to her by the thirty nine year old. So, note, I have NOT written this chapter, but we'd still both appreciate reviews :P

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Dear Annie,

Thank you very much on your congratulations from you to me. They are accepted with gratitude. No ones ever congratulated me before. You were right. I haven't ever had a letter of you before. Come to think about it. I've never had any letters. I've gotten ones addressed to 'the Parent of guardian of.' but my parents would always see me starting to open these and snatch them off me. It wasn't fair. If I argued they told me off.

Friend. No ones ever called me that before.

Actually yes. I was thinking those things. But you didn't make my address up. It all ready existed. I live there. Ooh! Maybe. Maybe you thought up my address due to fate.

When I used to live with my mum and dad. My mum used to read a lot of books like that, about people who would meet because of 'fate' or something. She believed in horoscopes too.

I think that they are a load of trash.

My horoscope sign says I should be lucky. But I'm not very lucky.

I didn't put the letter down. I've never had one. I wanted to read it. And I'm glad I did. I can write back to you now. And say thanks.

I saw a therapist a couple of times. I actually saw lots of them. I didn't like some of them.

There was Mrs. Parker. She was awful. She was really fat and short. she wore this white dress. It was really short like her. you would see the top of her wobbly thighs. She wore white stockings. You could see the tops of them too. Her skin soft of bulged out of the top. She smelt of fish. When I asked her if she had a cat (cat's like fish) She just glowered at me with these horrible grey eyes. They were like fish eyes.

I always called her 'Fish lady'.

She didn't like it.

She said I had a.. An attention disorder and skipped me along to the next therapist.

His name was Mr. Jones. But he liked me to call him Tony. I some times called him curly. He had really curly hair you see. He was really nice to me. Much nicer than Fish Lady.

But he had to go. He was going to get married and his wife had to move to another place for her job. I missed him lots.

There was Joanne. She was really nice. She actually looked a bit like a cat. When I told her this she just giggled. She was lovely but she only was around for a few months.

Then I got Mr. Pritchard. He wasn't like the others. He was sort of all right. And he talked to me in this big room. You'd like it. It had lots of things to throw like books. And loads of fragile stuff like vases.

He didn't mind if you threw them. He just sighed and waited for you to calm down.

He gave me some sweets if I was good. So I didn't yell at him much.

But I digress.

Annie? That's a nice name. But I suppose I would say that. My name is Annie as well. Weird huh? But I'm not nine. I'm 39.

I went to a special school. I didn't like it though. So I started to bunk off. But I got caught.

Hmm. I'm a girl too. Well I was. I'm a woman now. Your family doesn't sound very nice.

I think your parents are unfair.

Mine were unfair as well. I don't like adults. Even though I am one. Most of them are mean. That's why I live by myself far away from everyone.

I never liked Barbies either. I preferred living things.

I love animals you see.

When I was three I got a pet hamster. This was before my parents started being mean. When I was four I started in a normal school. This woman came is. She was a doctor. She told us how our bodies worked.

When I went home I wanted to find out if hamsters bodies worked the same.

So I opened my hamster up. My mum came in and screamed. I just said we'd sew the hamster back together like the doctor sewed people back together. My mum complained to my school.

I can sort of see why your parents are making you see a therapist. It's obviously a parent thing to do.

My parents made me see one. Your parents make you see one.

I started at my special school then next year. There were weird people there. Some people got these pretty coloured sweets a lot. I wanted some to. I tried to have some and caused a fuss when they wouldn't let me. They put me in the quiet room afterwards. It's this room that has nothing in it. It was a pale blue colour. Your just left to sit in there till you run out of energy. II remember being in there for ages and falling asleep. I woke up in my room.

The special school had rooms. I only saw my parents on the weekend.

I didn't like it and cried a lot. My mum took me home when I was seven because I started to behave and stopped having my 'fits'.

I don't see why people called them 'fits'. Fits are what happen when you're epileptic. I just screamed and kicked a lot. I get put in the quiet room a lot.

I'd scream and cry and yell and kick till my voice wore out and I lost my energy. That's what that room was for.

When I came home mum and dad were very nice. They got me a puppy but they made me promise not to hurt it. I told them I'd never hurt an animal. He died when I was ten. This person ran him over. I was watching.

They did it on purpose.

I did something really bad then.

I got a book on cars at the library and fiddled with that person's car. I shouldn't have. Their brakes stopped working and they crashed. It was in the paper.

No one really suspected me. It was just one of those things. My parents brought me a few other pets. Boring stuff like fish. and Hamsters. But I looked after them. I got a cat. I was 12 by this time. It took me ages to get the cat. It ate all my hamsters and fish.

I tried to give the cat a bath because it was covered in blood. It scratched all up my arms. I still have the scars. I threw the cat against the wall to get it away. It stopped moving.

I got yelled at a lot. I didn't show my parents my arms.

They wouldn't buy me any more animals. And I got my first therapist then. I don't know why. It was a he. Mr. Eller. I didn't nick name him. I hadn't named him yet.

He came over every day for a few hours and talked to me. He gave me stuff to do like drawing and brought me films and sweets. He called me a good girl and my parents liked him coming over. They said he calmed me down.

I don't know what them meant by this. They were mean to me when he wasn't around they always made me yell and wouldn't let me keep my light on at night so I got awful nightmares.

They said I was too old for nightmares and wetting the bed.

When I was thirteen years old I got a paper round. It took me ages to convince my parents. one day I was begging my parents while we were out. Some mean girls laughed at me. I don't know why. Maybe because I called my parents mummy and daddy?

What's wrong with that?

That's when my therapist died. His brakes didn't work either.

I spent some of my money I earnt on flowers for him. His wife was at the grave and told me it was my fault. That I had put to much stress on him and he had killed himself. She then stormed off crying.

I didn't like her and didn't see her again.

This was when the real trouble started. I'd be out delivering my papers and I'd hear animals crying inside houses or I'd find them rubbing up against my legs and stuff. So I took them home. Even the ones in houses.

I'd break in.

I used to take my self to the hospital because I'd have glass in my hands from breaking windows. I paid people to pretend to be my parents. I think some of those people were druggies.

Some people looked scandalized and demanded to know where my parents were. I'd be able to keep the animals for quite a while before my parents found them.

That's when letters started coming. I saw a lot of police too. By the time I was 17 they'd see me and sigh. I didn't like it. They started watching me and people didn't like me. My parents wouldn't let me go out.

My parents died when I was 19. I got lots of money. For some reason people were odd around me.

So I left. I sold the house. I knew how to do that. Then I moved here, and have lived her ever since. I have lots of animals. Maybe one day you could come and see them if your therapist lets you.

When I was 15 I had a very mean therapist. He was nasty; he wouldn't let me go out and didn't do anything nice. He hit me sometimes. My parents didn't care about the bruises. They said he was 'fixing me'.

I didn't like him.

If you want you can write back. If you want.

Annie.

XXX