inside She wondered why they never seemed to notice. All of the times she tried to tell them just ended in yes, fine, I'm sorry, talk to the doctor about that next time you go. But she didn't want to talk to some doctor who didn't know her about it. She wanted to talk to the people who were supposed to love her. Supposed to care, forever. They didn't come off that way though. Do this, do that, why didn't you do this, why didn't you do that. She wanted to get away, but she wanted to give them a chance first. She believed that everyone deserved a second or even third chance no matter how much they have hurt you. And they could never hurt her more than they already had so what the hell. This was their last chance. All the others had been shot. That night would determine her future and their happiness. She walked into the room. They turned towards her. I need to talk to you, she whispered. Anything, they lied. It was always a lie. No one was telling the truth when they said you could talk to them about anything. She sat down on the sofa for the last time. I have a problem, she said. I'm not okay. My mind, it's not healthy. The doctor you always tell me to talk to said that this wasn't a safe environment for me if I wanted to get better. Which I do. I want to get better and obviously you aren't helping me. I've known this since before I knew about my condition. If you can't learn and be ether for me I will leave. Don't believe me? Go up to my room. My things are packed. No, I don't know where I am going yet, but I will follow my dreams and that involves things I've never told you. Frankly, you never asked. They had nothing to say to her. They sat, shocked at who they was their little girl. They had never seen this side of her, the side who didn't give a shit. The side that reeked independence and capability. The side of her that was actually all of her. Maybe just maybe we were wrong, they thought. But what is wrong? We can't be wrong. We do treat you right honey. We do care for you. We do try and help you. She sighed. Goodbye then, she said and walked out the door to never come back. They had called every day for the first month. Then they had backed down and just texted every day. It had dwindled to once a week, and that's when her face showed up on the news. She walked down to the police station in the cold morning air the next day. Yes, I did run away, she said. But here's why. They let her go after calling the tv station to tell them to stop running the ad. Good luck, they said. It seemed to be sincere, so she looked back and nodded as she went out the door. Back in her apartment the phone rang. Unknown caller ID, she thought. They are trying a pay phone. She let it ring. And ring. And ring. They left a voicemail, so she reluctantly decided to listen to it. Hello, it began in an unfamiliar voice. This is Smith. I would like you to come down to my office today if that is convenient. The phone clattered on the floor as she scrambled to pull on her boots. She sat in the big black car fiddling with her dress. This was going to be her first time, and she could taste the nervous breath in her mouth. The interstate seemed to be more packed than usual on a winter day in LA, and streams of curses user bated breath could be heard from both the driver and delicate passenger in the back. They arrived. One last glance over and she slowly opened the door. Apparently there had been a lull in arrivals and the crowd was quite tame for this sort of thing. She stepped out onto the brightly colored fabric at her feet and took a deep breath. Looking up from her shoes, the crowd seemed to turn in slow motion as she took her first step in the ridiculous heels she had grown fond of. The sound was deafening as she began to smile. This smile was different, though. This was a smile of pure happiness. Her dress swooshed around her as she seemed to float down the carpet. It didn't matter if she won or lost tonight. She was herself, and happy, and that was all that mattered.