Hello my beautiful readers! Yes, it is I, Alaina, back from the dead! Happy 7 years of Austin & Ally! :)

I'm not sure what possessed me to write this. I've had an outline of this story for 2 years now and I just haven't had the want to write it. But, something came over me tonight.

This will be a short multi chapter story. I hope you all enjoy! :)

Jail is cold. And dark. And lonely. My own thoughts are like a siren in my ear. How in the world did I get myself into this situation? I know I haven't exactly made the right decisions in my life, but I never thought I would have ended up here. I never thought I would have had to stare at these bare, grey walls for hours upon hours. I never thought I would have had to call my mom to come bail me out. I guess… I guess this all started because of my mom. She was the one to take me away from my home. From the only place that ever made me happy.

Boy, was I happy. I had two parents that loved me more than anything, three friends that were my whole world and that talking Barbie Happy Family House. Nothing could have made my five-year-old life any better. And I never thought that anything could ruin it, either. But… I guess I was wrong.

I remember the day it all began. Dez, Trish, Austin and I were in my backyard, playing family in my treehouse. We were laughing as hard as we possibly could about… whatever 5 year olds laugh about. Oh, I remember! Austin and I had kissed on the lips and Trish and Dez were making fun of us. But we were only playing the parts of mom and dad, so we obviously had to. So, since they were making fun of us, we thought it was only fair that they kissed on the lips, too. They both looked straight at each other, shook their heads and said "EWWWWWWW!" in unison. After laughing about that for a good chunk of time, we started to hear a lot of yelling coming from the kitchen.

Stealthily (or so we thought), we made our way to the bay window, crouched down, and tried to spy on my parents to see what all the commotion was about. There, we saw my mom holding her head in her hands while shaking her shoulders up and down. She was obviously crying, but I didn't know that at the time. My dad had his back facing her, leaning against the counter with his left hand and holding his forehead with his right. His mouth was moving, but we couldn't hear any of the words coming out. Dez attempted to squoosh his ear to the window to see if that would help, but in doing so, he bumped it and got the attention of my parents.

We all slammed against the ground, hoping they didn't see us. But they did… My dad slowly opened the back door and told us it was time to come inside. My mom's back was now facing us, I assume to keep us from seeing her tear streaked face. My dad looked defeated. This was one of the strangest sights I had ever seen. In front of me, my parents were happy. Why were they acting like this? I asked dad what was wrong and why mom was crying, but he just shrugged and told me that everything was fine. I believed him.

But… as time went on, I started to become more aware of my parents' behavior towards each other. Weeks turned into months and I noticed that they were distancing themselves more and more. Some nights, I would get out of bed to get myself a glass of water and see my dad asleep on the couch. I asked my mom why he did that one day on the way to kindergarten, and she said that he thought it was more comfortable than the bed. That made absolutely no sense to me, but I didn't question it. I could tell my curiosity was beginning to make her anxious.

Fast forward a couple weeks later, my mom wakes me up by telling me that we're taking a trip. That got me straight out of bed! I loved road trips more than chocolate chip cookies. I rushed to get all of my necessities together. That being my purple, sparkly sneakers, my teddy bear and my music note necklace that my dad had given to me for my 6th birthday that year. I ran down the stairs and out the door to the car after mom had yelled for me. Once my foot hit the pavement, I knew something was off. Where was dad? Why did mom have a lot of big and bulky stuff in the car? Why was there only room for me and her? Before I could get a word out, she picked me up and stuck me in my car seat. She quickly started the car and began to back out of the driveway. She told me not to be scared. That we were moving to a new place and starting a new life.

That's when I first started to resent my mother. I know I was only six and that I couldn't comprehend much, but come on! You could have at least let me say goodbye to my friends and my father! I don't care what the hell happened between you two, you could have let your only daughter hug her dad. He was the most important person in my life. And… She took me away from him…

Plainfield, Indiana sucks. It sucked when we moved here and it has sucked every day since. I constantly think about Miami. About home. I constantly think about what life would have been like if we had stayed. If I still talked to Trish, Dez and Austin. If my parents still loved each other…

My mom wasted no time getting back in the game. Not even a month after moving, she got me a baby sitter so she could go on a date with this "really sweet guy." He dumped her in front of the house that night. No idea why. She never told me. The only reason I know is because my baby sitter and I spied on them when we heard their car doors slam. She walked in the house and bluntly told me to go to bed.

After forcing me to live in Indiana, my relationship with my mom was obviously never the best. I firmly believe she was not meant to be a single parent. Maybe not even a parent at all. She treated me as if I was always a second thought to her. She made it seem like I was a burden to her. Like her life would have been so much better if I wasn't in it. Any time she asked me to do a chore in the house or get something for her, I would do it. I wanted to please her. After all, she was my only parent. The only person I could seek guidance and wisdom from. She was, by default, the most important person in my life. But, she always criticized me. I could never do anything right. I was always a disappointment.

Around the time I turned 13 was when things went from bad to worse. My mom started to bring this guy home. Stan. What a stupid name. It's so bland. Of course, it does suit him. He talks in the softest, deepest monotoned voice that makes you want to slam your head against a wood panel every time he mentions the way to make toothpaste go inside the tube. We were eating spaghetti that night, Stan was complementing almost everything about my mom and I was gagging at every single one. You could tell he just wanted to get in her pants. Ugh. I zoned out after the 9th complement. Something about how he likes the way her eyelids move when she blinks...? After a couple more minutes, what felt like hours, I heard my mom giggle and say something that made my blood boil. "Lester never did that." Excuse me? Don't you dare bring my father into this conversation! Stan does not deserve to know about him! Dad does not deserve to have his name slung in the mud just because you wanna get laid! I threw my napkin on the table and stormed up to my room. But, not before calling my mom a bitch.

Needless to say, I was grounded for a month.

I never really had any close friends. I tried to look Trish up on Facebook one time, but didn't have any luck. I tried making friends when I reached high school, but everyone was always so fake. I would tell them something from my past and they would turn it around on me. After a while, I just kinda grew numb to it. I blocked out whatever shit people would say about me. That is, until I heard what Carter Reed was saying about me. He called me a slut so I called him a man-hoe. We couldn't keep our hands off of each other that day. For almost a whole year, mom would not stop hounding me about him and how she "doesn't know anything about him or his parents" as if she had cared about that kinda stuff before. So, last night, I brought him home to let him meet my sorry excuse for a mother. Once dinner was over and Carter had left, my mom loudly voiced her opinion to me. "That boy is too dangerous for you." I rolled my eyes and exhaled in the most dramatic way possible. I flew off the handle, telling her that I am 17 and that she has no right to tell me who I should and should not date. How I've basically been raising myself while she's off on a cruise every month with Stan. How life would be so much better if I were with dad.

I ran out the door and called Carter to come back and pick me up. Within minutes, his car was blazing in front of me. I jumped in, glancing back at the door. My mom didn't care what the hell I was doing. She didn't even come back to ask where I was going. "Screw her." I said out loud. Carter laughed as he slammed his foot on the gas. I knew he knew what to do. He's known me long enough to know what I want. And I wanted to do something reckless. Anything.

We ended up at Walmart. We walked around for a bit and then I saw something. ...And I acted on impulse. "Hey, Carter, dare me to put this watermelon under my shirt?"

He laughed and sliced the air, taunting me. "You don't have the guts."

I smirked, looked in both directions to make sure the coast was clear, and stuffed the watermelon under my shirt. A moment after, an old lady started to walk past us with her shopping cart. Carter quickly put his hands over the watermelon and started to talk to it like a baby. I couldn't help but let out a couple of giggles. He was kinda cute doing that. We continued to walk around the store. Some people stared us down, others stopped us in our tracks to ask us when the baby was due. We told them that it was twin boys and that they should be here any day now. We stopped by the jewelry counter and I saw the most beautiful earrings I had ever seen in my life. I smiled as wide as my cheeks would allow.

This time, Carter smirked. "You want them?"

I nodded. "Nothing would make me happier."

"Then I'll get them for you, baby." He kissed my forehead and as quick as I blinked, he jumped over the counter, grabbed the earrings, took my hand and started to bolt.

Two police officers took notice to the two teenagers running towards to door and my watermelon baby falling out and smashing against the floor. "Hey, stop!" They yelled. We started to run faster and faster until we reached the car. Carter floored it and whipped onto the road with blue flashing lights trailing behind us. I had never felt so alive in my life. Here I was, driving away from the cops with the love of my life.

...Holy shit... I was driving away from the cops with the love of my life. I needed to reevaluate everything in my life. I gulped as the sirens became louder and the lights became brighter. I yelled at Carter and told him that he needed to stop. He needed to pull over. If we kept running, we would get in more trouble than we already were. He scoffed and told me to stop being such a pussy. I kept yelling and screaming his name. I needed him to stop the car. Eventually, I became so petrified that I just stopped. I couldn't even get one squeak out of my voice. Carter was getting so much joy out of it. He was so happy. He turned the corner, thinking he had finally lost them, when 4 parked cop cars made him come to a screeching halt.

And so, we're back to the beginning. My thoughts are as loud as a siren in my ear. What have I done with my life? I'm 17 years old... and I'm sitting in jail. How do I come back from this? How can I make things right?

"Ally Dawson." Shouts an officer as he unlocks the jail cell door. Thank goodness! He hands me a bag with my phone in it and I rush out of that hell hole.

Never have I been so happy to see my mom. Not because I missed her or anything. She's just the only person that could have gotten me out of that situation. So for that, I am thankful. There she stands, arms crossed and death glare on 10. "Ally Dawson, I cannot believe you! Arrested? For a car chase? I told you that boy was nothing but trouble. I do not want you seeing him ever again, do you hear me?"

I bite my tongue as hard as I can. If I say something - anything - I will literally never hear the end of it. She will never let me live this down as it is, so why add to it? It's not gonna help. I'm stuck here. Forever. She scolds my ear off all the way to the car, all the way home, the whole time I'm getting ready for bed and probably 30 minutes after I actually get in bed. She finally got too tired to even say goodnight, so she left and went to her room. I lay sprawled out, staring at the dark ceiling. My life sucks. Everything sucks. At this point in my life, I don't think anyone cares about me. My stupid mother, my stupid probably-soon-to-be step dad, my stupid boyfriend and even my stupid actual father. I've been so caught up in hating my mom, I never realized that my dad hasn't ever tried to reach out to me. Tried to contact me. Why? All I have from him is that stupid musical note necklace. He gave that to me and told me that he'll always be there for me. Where are you, dad? Why aren't you here?

I shove the blankets off me and head for the kitchen. A glass of water always calms me down. As I'm gulping the last drop, I notice a white envelope sitting on the stove. It's addressed to me from... Lester Dawson... I shakily pull the sealed paper and begin to open it up.

My dearest Ally,

I'm not even sure what to write anymore. I miss you so, so much. There's not a day that goes

by where I'm not thinking of you, or that beautiful laugh that you have. I wish I could hear your laugh.

I wish I could see your smile. I know you've grown up to be such an amazing woman, and I'm so sorry

that I have not been able to witness it. It breaks my heart to think about how much of your life I've missed.

I hope your life continues to treat you well and I hope you have all the love that you deserve.

You are such a special girl, Ally. Don't let any kind of negativity bring you down.

Always with love and hopes to see you again,

Dad

What. The. Hell. He's not sure what to write anymore? What does that mean? Has he written to me before? Where are those letters?! I start to scour the kitchen to see what I can find. I cling and clang everything I come in contact with, but I don't care. I need to know if he's written to me before. I check in cabinets, in the fridge, behind the fridge, anywhere! I then hear the squeak of the floor. I turn around to see a tired Stan. Ugh. Why does he even live here?

"What are you doing?" He asks mid yawn, scratching his head.

I roll my eyes and continue searching. "Nothing."

"You're looking for those letters, aren't you?"

I stop in my tracks. What did he just say? I slowly turn around to face him. "How do you-"

"They're stuffed in a white cardboard box in the coat closet." He says just before exiting and heading back to their room.

I'm so shocked that I honestly don't believe him. But... I've got nothing to lose. I bolt for the coat closet, open the door and shove everything on the top shelf out of the way. There it is... Just like he said. I go through it, note by note. There has to be over 200 letters! He wrote to me every month, every birthday, every thanksgiving, every Christmas. The first letter he wrote is dated June 19th, 2007. The day we left... He reached out to me. He contacted me. And mom... kept him away from me.

That's it. This is the last straw. I am so sick of her constant being! She controls every move I make even though she couldn't care less about those moves. She kept me from ever making contact with anyone from Miami, including my dad. I am out of here. I'm going home.