Gatlinburg, Tennessee, 2013:
I grabbed onto the edge of the pool. The sun burned my face. My tears blended into the water.
The remote that controlled my being was a foreign force. It was the obstacle that kept me from being who I wanted to be, but was the reason I've always been the way that I was. Why I only ate chicken tenders and fries, why I was obsessed with Victorious, why I was afraid of planes, why I had an attitude most of the time, why whenever I was rude, I didn't realise it. It created me. It was the skeleton of my existence, but I cringed whenever I heard its name.
Ever since hearing the news, the uncertainty of whether I would be viewed differently bugged my head. My parents barely brought it up, but they probably thought about it as much as I did. They took note; they knew of this defining moment in their daughter's life. The fact that they had to reassure me they still loved me, that I was still who I was, had to have stemmed from at least a hint of uncertainty.
I was taken to the testing classroom with the puzzles and shapes so they could figure out whether I had ADD. When the woman flipped the spot the difference picture over, and on the back it read "autism", I was in denial. I wanted to ask them, so they could reassure me that it wasn't true, but I knew doing so would've choked me up. I hated the word the second I saw it. I connected it to why my hair was always frizzy, why I always wore t-shirts instead of dresses, why I squinted often, and why I had an ugly side-profile. It wasn't only why I had to hide, but it became the reason why I had to leave everything I knew.
My parents researched a middle school with a special education classroom, and they were going to take me out of my K-8 school, and place me there. I had to leave my friends, leave what I've gotten used to my entire life. I had to start completely new, where I knew no one. Dad told me sorry, and that it wasn't decided. But I knew that it was.
My parents' attention was drawn to Phoebe as they played in the water with her. They occasionally gave me a stare, confused as to why I was crying. The water swayed against my back, almost entering my ears. I stood firm, and scraped my fingers against the edge of the pool, and didn't let it drag me under.
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What Really Happened: A Memoir from the Apocalypse
FanfictionWhen the world ended, Mallory was eleven years old. What Really Happened documents Mallory's experiences from the apocalypse, as well as the survivors she knew, and how it changed them. It encompasses destruction, death, and despair, as well as hope...