Trisha talks about what happened after she and her parents leave the police station.
I hated being stuck in doors with nothing to do. It was then that I remembered the boxes that I still hadn't unpacked. While I hate packing or unpacking
anything, I decided that it would be better than just sitting around all day.
I got up and walked over to a corner of the livingroom and grabbed the first box. Not much was in it, except some cd's, a pair of headphones I had been
looking for, and a bunch of other junk. When I looked back into the box to make sure I had gotten everything, I found three photographs at the bottom of
the box. I picked them up and looked at them. The first was of my friend Amanda. 'I gotta call her.' I thought as I turned it over to look at the second
one. In this one, some friends and I were dancing at some party. When I got to the third one, my heart stopped. It was a picture of Darry that had been
taken before the spring brake of last year. All of a sudden, everything came rushing back to me and I burst into tears.
It's been almost a year since Darry was taken away by that creature. Ever since then, nothing's been the same. When my parents arrived at the police station,
I was so happy to see them. It was almost like being a kid and you know that your parents will take care of everything. The trouble was, there was nothing
that could be done now. It was already too late.
I tried to explain to my parents the best I could what had happened, but they didn't or couldn't believe me. They thought I was just in shock. The woman
who claimed to be a psychic tried to help explain, but it only made things worse. Several cops also said that they had seen something in the stairwell,
but none of them knew what it was. Both my parents were angry and rightfully so. Their son was missing and there wasn't a thing that could be done about
"God damn it Trisha, snap out of it and tell us what really happened!" Dad shouted as we were driving home. "I already told you everything!" I shot back
as tears began streaming down my face. "You have to be on something then." "I'm not on drugs!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "If you don't believe
me, drive back to the station and I'll take a fucking drug test!" "Leave her alone." My mother said angrily. She and dad argued with each other the rest
of the way home, but I can't remember what all was actually said. My thoughts kept wandering back to Darry.
When we got home, I went straight to bed. The moment my head hit the pillow, I was out. Unfortunately, I didn't sleep peacefully. I kept having nightmares
about Darry and that monster. I kept dreaming about Darry getting his eyes ripped out. He was in so much pain and there wasn't a damn thing I could do
to make it stop.
Over the next few days, I had to endure my mom's constant hovering over me, making sure I was okay. There was also my dad, who kept badgering me, trying
to find out "what really happened." He wouldn't let up. He kept insisting that I was on drugs, or that I was in shock, or I had a mental illness, or a
bunch of other things. The stress started to get to me. I hardly left my room and I all but quit eating. To make things worse, I was still having nightmares,
so I barely slept. Then, my parents started talking about sending me to a hospital. "I'm not crazy." I said when I found out what they wanted to do. "I
know what happened was real. I'm not making this up." "Noone's saying that you are." Mom said in a calm voice. "We know you're having a hard time dealing
with what happened to Darry. We just wanna help you through this." "She'd help us all out if she'd get that nonsense about a creature out of her head."
Dad said as he glared at me. After arguing about it for an hour, I told them I'd at least go talk to a psychiatrist.
Two days later I was sitting across from Dr. Gipson. He was a short guy with a bald head and wearing glasses. He had this nasally voice that annoyed me
to no end. All we really did was talk about Darry's disappearance. I told him about my nightmares and everything else that was going on. He recommended
that I undergo all these tests to make sure I wasn't a total nut case. Those weren't his exact words, but that's basically what it was. When the tests
came back all clear, they ended up prescribing medication for me to take before I went to sleep. They also gave me something that was supposed to help
with my stress. All that did was turn me into a zombie. I always felt like I wasn't myself. Unfortunately, I knew if I said anything to my parents they
would make me go back to Dr. Gipson. I might even have to take other drugs instead. I didn't want that, so I took them to satisfy mom and dad. After a
while, they quit being so attentive and I was able to quit taking them.
I was relieved when it was time to go back to school. Not because I wanted to go back, but because I needed to get away from my parents. My dad in particular.
He was making life a living hell for me. He hardly ever spoke to me, and when he did it usually had something to do with Dary. Of course, when I told mom
what my plans were, she freaked out. "Trisha, I think you should stay here." She said. "You can transfer to the community college." "I only have a few
months left. Then I'll be back for the summer. I just . . . mom just please try to understand." "Understand what?" Mom shouted. "You almost got killed!
I lost one child and I don't want to lose another!" "What's going on in here?" Dad asked as he came into the room. "She wants to go back to school." Mom
said in a calmer voice. I think she thought dad would help her talk me into staying. However, that's not what happened. All he said was, "If she wants
to go back to school, let her go." My mom's mouth dropped open. "How can you say that?" It was at this time that I decided to make my exit. I hurried upstairs
and finished packing my bags.
A/n: I don't really like the title, but I couldn't think of a better one. If you have any ideas, just leave a review or send me a message. If I use your
suggestion, I'll credit you.