Crazy, mentally deranged; demented; insane. None of those words describe me. Yet, here I am again, being tested for being crazy.

Want to know why? Who am I kidding, of course you do. All of you nosy little readers who have nothing better to do than read about my pathetic little life. It's not to late to turn around and find another story with happy endings.

So, here's why I guess. I've never talked more than one word. Ever. Doctors say I could if I wanted to, and I do want to. I just don't. It's not like I don't know how. I've actually spoken before. Once. One word. And guess which word it was. Hate. I've done nothing but hate.

I'm pretty sure that you say you hate people all the time. Well, I'm different. I only hate you if you get on my bad side. My mom, for instance, got on my bad side. I know she has my best interest in mind, but locking your seven-year-old daughter in her room for seven days because you think it'll make her beg you to let her out isn't exactly love worthy.

Everyone thinks I'm crazy. Okay, so, it's not just talking they're worried about. I lash out at people. I scream, kick, and punch. Little do they know, I pick who I get angry at. It's not just a reaction I have, it's always planned.

"Max?"

I looked up at the doctor, nodding. "Are you alright?"

I motioned for some paper. She handed me a notebook and a pen. In my messy handwriting, I wrote

I don't want to be here. I'm not crazy. It's not that I can't be normal. I choose not to talk. I get angry on purpose.

"Max, I know it's hard to hear, but both your mom and I think going to Heartland's is best for you."

Heartland's is a mental hea- what am I saying, it's a crazy shack. They lock kids away until they're adults. Take childhood away. That's where my mom want's to lock me up. In a prison for the mental. Whatever. Plus, its two-thousand miles from my home.

Standing up, I sprinted towards the door, ignoring the people calling my name. I ran to the woods and found my hiding place. No one can hurt me here.

IGGY POV

Mom came through the door looking worried. "Iggy, do you know where your sister is?"

"Uh, no" I said.

"Oh no."

"What?"

"She's mental Iggy. Being alone isn't such a good thing."

I stood up. This made me furious. "She isn't mental. You just won't give her a chance."

I stormed out of the front door, my mom called my name, but I ignored it.

I knew where she was. She always goes there to get away. Getting on my bike, I rode towards the park.

When I got off, I was running. There she was, sitting on the branch that she usually did.

"Max" I called. She stared at me.

"Come on Max."

She shook her head. Then, she did something shocking to even me. She opened her mouth and spoke. "Iggy, I'm not crazy."

I climbed up into the tree and sat by her. "I know you're not."

"They want to take me away Iggy."

I was desperate to keep her talking. "I know Max. I've tried to stop her, but-"

"It's okay Iggy. We should go home now."

So, for those of you who don't know, I've got an alter-ego. She's my age and her name is Lizzie.

Me: So peeps, how was it?

Lizzie: Um, how was what?

Me: The story.

Lizzie: What story?

Me: My story!

Lizzie: Still don't get it!

Me: Ugh! *Strangles*

Lizzie: She...owns...nothing!