I Never Left

Chapter 1 ~ In The Beginning

Your POV (7 Years Old)

     I bury my head under my pillows. Mommy and Daddy are fighting again. I silently sob, my back heaving until I feel a pat on my back. I jump and swat at the hand, afraid it was one of my parents coming to take their anger out on me. Again.

     "Are you ok," someone unfamiliar asks. A boy, but his voice is... abnormal. I shake my head. Why would he ask such a stupid question? Can't he see me crying?

     "Well, will you look at me," the boy asks. I refuse. "Please," the boy says, begging with his voice. I give in and peek at the him, examining the strange boy that's appeared in my room. His hair is green, the same shade as the grass. And so are his eyes, only darker.

     He has things in his earlobes. Kinda like hollahoops. They look good on him. He smiles at me, his eyes showing sympathy and pity. He offers me a hug and I hesitate. I don't know him, but he can't be any worse than my parents. I accept.

     "It'll be ok. I'm here," he whispers in my ear. I force a smile. "Thank you," I whisper back.

12 Years Old

"[Your Name]? What are you doing," Anti, my best friend, asks me while I'm drawing in my old sketchbook. More specifically, I'm drawing him. "Drawing," I say, giving him a smile. Ever since that day, Anti hasn't left my side. He protects me.

And he doesn't like people. That's why he only shows himself to me. I hear whispering outside my door again. "Gerald, she is doing it again," Mom whispers. Her voice is husky, making it clear that she's smoked her whole life.

"I am not sending my only daughter to an insane asylum," Dad whispers back, his voice is deep and stern. They start arguing for the fifth time today. They argue about everything. Food. Money. Rent. Me. Anti sits down on my bed and I lean against him, resting my head on his shoulder. He plays gently with my hair and I close my eyes.

"Go to sleep, Kitten," he whispers. He calls me "Kitten" as I am basically the human embodiment of a feline. And I call him Anti. His full name is Anti Septiceye McLaughlin.

My eyes droop shut and I turn off my mind, falling asleep in my best friends arms.

16 Years Old

I sigh and look through my old sketch book. It's all him. Anti. My "best friend" who "would never leave my side". The drawings are detailed, every line accurately portraying the boy I trusted most. A tear falls onto the page. He lied to me. Just like everyone does. I close the sketchbook. I just got out of the asylum. They said I was delusional. I don't believe them. I didn't believe them.

But now... I'm not so sure. They put me on medication, put me in therapy, and altered my brain. I need to forget about him, like they told me I should. I toss the sketchbook on my bed and sigh. I vow not to think about Anti ever again.

PRESENT DAY - 25 Years Old

"And I'll see you all on the flip side," I say happily and end the recording. I sigh and lean back, smiling and swiveling in my chair. My cellphone rings and I hurry to answer.

"Hello," I greet whomever was on the other end, expecting it to be my father. Father and Mother divorced after I moved out. They thought it best to wait until I got a place of my own before they split. "[Your Name], honey," a gruff, husky, yet still feminine voice says, "You need to come over," it says. Mother. "Mother? What's wrong," I ask, sitting up straight and my voice laced with concern. "It's your Father," she says, trailing off. Her voice was full of sorrow and it shook.

"What about Father?"

"He... He died."

"I'll be there tomorrow," I say and hang up before she could say anything else. I can't believe it. He's dead. I sprint to my room and start packing, shaking violently. The man that had been by my side since day one was gone. Only one person would be able to calm me down. My best friend

Mark.

I dial his phone number and put it on speaker while I throw clothes into a suitcase.

"Hey bro-dette. What's up," greets a familiar voice that sounds like the vocal embodiment of smooth chocolate.

"Father's dead. I'm freaking out. Will you come with me to Ireland," I ask, stuffing a camera into my suitcase. My voice shakes. Father was always there for me. Who knew what Mother would have done to me, had he not been there. "Ireland? Why," he asks, obviously confused.

"Father is dead. Mother called and told me. Will you come with mr please," I ask, pleading with my voice. "Yeah, of course. Do you have the tickets," he asks. Shit. I don't even have enough for plane tickets. "No, no I don't."

"Don't worry. I'll get them," Mark says,

I sigh in relief. Mark is a life saver. "Thank you, Markimoo," I say, gratitude in my voice. He chuckles. "No problem. I understand," he says. I'm so lucky to have such a good friend. "So when do you have to be there," he asks, the sound of keys being tapped from his side of the line.

"Either late tonight or early tomorrow," I say, my voice strained as I was attempting to zip up my suitcase. "Ok. Lets go tonight," he says. "What time," I ask. "11:30," he says. "Ok. See you then," I say.

"See you then," he says and ends the call. I sigh and finish packing my stuff. I walk over to where I record. I sit down and start vlogging.

"Hello humans of Earth! So, I'm going back to Ireland for a bit. Family stuff. Videos MAY be delayed a little bit, but I'm going to try to get them up on time.

I'm going to Ireland with Mark so I won't have to be alone," I say. The doorbell rings and I frown. Nobody ever visits me other than Mark, Dan, Phil, and Felix.

I bring the camera with me as I go see who it is. I open the door and see...nobody. I look around. Nobody. I look down. Something.

A basket and a note. I pick up the note and basket, bringing it inside. I read the note outloud. "I never left," I say. "What the fuck? Who left this," I ask, searching the note.

A. A? That's all? I sigh and look in the basket. Medicine. "Antibiotics? Ok then," I say and set it aside. Another ring. I check the door again. This time, a Septiceye.

"Jack," I whisper, completely confused. I bring in the Septiceye. Jack is a good friend of mine. He lives in Ireland though. So I don't get to see him often.

Another ring. I open the door and find Dan and Phil. I laugh a little. I was expecting something else. "Dan! Phil! What's up," I ask. They both smile.

"Just wanted to come over for a bit," Phil says in his adorable accent. Dan nods. "Come in then," I say and move to the side for them to come inside.

They walk in and I hug them both. Dan hugs me for a little longer, but I don't think anything of it. "So what are you guys up to," I ask. Dan shrugs.

"Well, I wanted to know if you wanted to record a video with us," Phil says. "Sure," I say, putting on a fake smile. Dan frowns a little. "Y/n, can I talk to you for a second," he asks.

I nod, knowing he can see right through my smile. I lead him into the hallway, leaving Phil in the living-room. "Are you ok," Dan asks.

I shake my head. Dan pulls me into another hug. He's different around me. It's like he becomes a different person when around me.

I smile a little and hug him back. "What's wrong," he asks. "My dad," I whisper. He hugs me tighter. He knows all about my childhood. How everyone thought I was crazy.

Only two people other my family and myself know. Mark and Dan. Dad wouldn't let me go to IAK. He refused. IAK stands for Insane Asylum for Kids. I went there for four years.

At the age of 12, I was sent there for some reason. But I can't remember. You would think that I would remember something like that, but I don't. I sigh and pull away from the hug.

Phil walks into the hallway. "It's all set up," he says. I look at Dan and he smiles encouragingly. I smile a genuine smile and follow Phil back into the living-room.