1. A Trip to the Past.

I never thought my life would turn out this way. I always thought I was normal. Turns out, I'm more of a freak than I could have ever imagined. It sucks more than any of you could know. Believe me. But I suppose I should start from the very beginning. Before I knew anything was wrong. I was four years old.

"Look at me Mommy!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. Mom and Dad were sitting on a park bench watching as I swung higher and higher on the swings. It was the best thrill of my life at four years old.

"That's very good Maggie!" My mom enthused back at me. I grinned at her as I flew off the swing when I reached the highest point. I landed on my feet and rolled onto the ground laughing. Dad ran over to me with a worried expression. Probably worried I had broken something.

"Are you okay Mags?" He asked with a crease in his brow. I just continued laughing. Pretty soon, he was laughing with me and my mom even joined in from the park bench. It seemed it was a wonderful day. Daddy had taken my hand and Mommy the other. They swung me back and forth between them as we walked toward the car.

That was when I heard it. Growling. I didn't understand what was happening at that point. I only vaguely understood that my mom was screaming and my dad lifted me off the ground quickly and began to run to the car. That was when I felt the searing pain in my arm. It was so unbearable that I began to scream with Mommy. Daddy tried to soothe us both as he rushed me to the hospital.

Now I can take you to today. Thirteen years later. Almost fourteen. I was due to turn eighteen in a few days. Gross. That meant college and growing up. But worse than that, it meant I was getting old. I detested the fact that my life was about to change. Eighteen changed everything. I could vote. Not that I wanted to. I could get married. Not that I had a boyfriend. I could buy porn. Not that I was into that. I could smoke. Not that I could buy a lighter (you have to be like twenty something to buy a lighter). I could gamble in some places. Not that I wanted to. It also meant I would have more responsibility. - Sigh. - I hated responsibility. I already had to do chores every day and I had to worry about homework. Soon, college would be in session and I would have tons more homework to worry me.

I was currently sitting on the couch in my living room with my best friend, Naomi. She was talking about how awesome it would be when I had my own place. My own place. Sigh. Mom and Dad were forcing me to move out basically the second I turned eighteen. They called it easing me out of the nest. I called it violently shoving me from the nest. I didn't understand why I had to move immediately. They even bought me an apartment to get me started. I couldn't legally move in until I was eighteen, but it was there until then.

Naomi continued to blabber and I continued to ignore her. I wasn't in the mood to be excited about my apartment or my birthday. I just sat there quietly staring at the crescent shaped bite mark on my fore arm. Yup. That's what happened that day when I so rudely cut you off from the memory. I was attacked by a dog. They had never found the dog, so since that day I had avoided parks of any kind. I was also incredibly afraid of dogs. I never had one. I was more of a cat person. I had a fat grey and white cat that was probably lazing around the house somewhere.

"You are so not listening to me!" Naomi complained loudly. I glanced up at her and forced a sheepish smile.

"Sorry. I'm just...tired I guess." I told her lamely. It wasn't really a lie, but it wasn't technically the truth either. I was stressing about my life. It really wasn't awesome, but it wasn't all bad either. It was just...normal. Most kids had parents that forced them to move out when they were of age. Lots of kids had been attacked by a dog when they were little. That was just how it worked. Life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get. Of course, some might wonder why the idiot with the box of chocolates doesn't turn the lid over to read the little map that comes with every freakin' box of chocolates.

"That's a lie. You're not excited about your apartment?" She asked. I shrugged.

"I guess. I mean it's cool that I get my own place, but I think I might miss it here a lot." I told my best friend honestly.

"You mean you'll miss curfews and vegetables and parents screaming at you all the time?" She asked skeptically.

"Well when you put it like that, I guess I won't miss it too much." I laughed. Naomi always knew how to make me smile.

"Just remember that and you'll think twice before missin' your folks and whatnot Mags." She told me sternly.

"I will." I promised. With that, Naomi got up and left. It was about ten thirty at night and Naomi's curfew was eleven. I was thinking that I should ask her to move in with me. That way, I wouldn't be alone in that little apartment. Then my bite mark started to burn uncontrollably. It had been doing this a lot lately, but never to this degree. It was so bad that I actually started to sweat. After so long of this, I think I passed out. I woke up the next morning in my bed and covered up. That had never happened before and I wondered if this was the reason my parents were making me move.