02. Getting into my mind is a scary thing to do.


02. World So Cold: Three Days Grace


*Mika Crosslin*

I was never what you would call "ordinary." No matter how hard I tried to be, to just fit in, nothing ever worked. So, I did the only thing I knew to do.

Become my own person, the person I was meant to become.

I was pretty content being my own person. It didn't leave me with many friends, but the ones I had were true. They stayed with me through it all, and if they didn't and started trying to fit in themselves, I was okay and able to move on with the others.

My brother . . . he had a chance to be popular . . . but he stayed back with the "misfits." Just for me.

It's why we were and still are best friends—closer than close. I could tell him anything without fear. He wouldn't tell or judge me. And it was the same vice versa.

The day he told me he would do me if we weren't blood was a little odd, but we got past it.

Growing up, I had so many feelings. My emotions controlled my life. I loved everyone, and I was always gushing with happiness. I got that from my mom, whereas my dad and brother were like most men in one sense—impassive other than the "manly" feelings.

And then, when my mom walked out on us to pursue her addictive lifestyle, that left me as the only happy one, the only one who didn't just hide how I felt; the only optimistic one.

And that can only last so long. Before long, I was a reluctant pessimist starting middle school, and I started losing more and more friends—including Preston.

I turned to the way wrong crowd. Actually got addicted to alcohol, pot, sex, and Mountain Dew. Now, Mountain Dew's the only addiction I still haven't broken, but I also don't plan to break it.

Okay, and really, I wasn't addicted to—to put it medically—vaginal or anal sex. It was the oral that got me. And usually, it was with women.

Trust me. I've never given a guy head. That's an insult, so degrading. I mean, think about it. A guy will tell you to suck his dick when he hates you. To do it for fun is just degrading. They won't admit it, but they lose a bit of respect for the girl.

And yes. I would know. How? I'm empathetic, which means I can control and feel the emotions of the people around me. That's how. That's also what made me weird from the beginning.

Why am I this way? Your guess is as good as mine.

Anyways, on top of all that other stuff, I got addicted to self-mutilation. I cut myself, broke bones, and did all kinds of utterly stupid things . . . to myself.

I'm so against self-mutilation and suicide now that it's really not even funny. Kinda sad, really. I will blow up when people start joking about that kinda stuff. Actually, I beat the hell outta this one guy. It's serious shit, okay? Not a joke.

And on top of all the other trouble going on, I decided as I went through middle school that I was a lesbian. Turns out, I just wanted to like women more than I actually did. I wanted to spite my dad, because for whatever reason, I blamed him for everything. I wanted to rebel, and I was willing to do anything to spite him.

And then, I overdosed. I mixed alcohol and drugs, and I almost died. I was a thirteen-year-old girl under the influence with a seventeen-year-old girl heading to her house with her to have some drunk and high oral.

She got out scotch free, and I almost died.

And, seeing Preston, after waking up from my coma and before he realized I was awake . . . seeing Preston and my dad hugging each other, bawling their eyes out like they did, I realize that I had messed up. Big time. They didn't need to lose my mom and me. What would that do to them? They didn't deserve this; they deserved better.

So, that's what I gave them. I changed.

It was a hard road. I mean, I wasn't that bad off. I went through some rehab, and I started back on the right path. Then, a year and a half later, I get abducted in a park. Why did I get abducted? Because I could sense what the guy was feeling, and I used these said feelings and figured out what he was doing—or planning to do anyways. I saw the girl he was going after, and I warned her of the creepy man staring at her—stalking her. So, she got the hell outta there.

He took me instead, despite my attempts to get away. Of course, my dad decided I needed a cell phone after I managed to get back, but I didn't have one then, and there was no one around.

Except the girl, who did call the police. Gave them my description. When my dad told them I was missing, they told him why.

Yeah. We can all picture that lovely conversation.

My dad: Um, yes, I would like to report my daughter missing.

Officer: Name?

Dad: Mika Crosslin.

Officer: Picture?

Dad: -quickly hands over the most recent photo of me, which is from, like, fifth grade-

Officer: Oh yeah. She's the girl that was abducted in the park. Hey, fellas! Got a name for the abduction!

Three weeks later, the said rapist is passed out drunk. He was so messed up and so high that he wasn't thinking straight. So, when I asked him to take the handcuffs off of me so that I could get him some more drugs, he did. Then I picked up the knife he used on me over and over, and I killed him. He wasn't attacking me, and I didn't have to. But I did, and no one questioned it. They wrote it off as self-defense.

The problem was, he fed me drugged food—when he fed me—and all he gave me to drink was Vodka. So, all my progress was ruined.

Therefore, I had to go back to rehab. It didn't take much longer before I was able to stop the drugs, because no matter how strong the urges were, I always remembered that moment in the hospital. I always thought about Preston and my dad being left all alone, with no one but each other.

How messed up would Preston be? He loses not only his mom but also his twin sister all before his fifteenth birthday?

That's a messed up life, and I can't do that to him.

And now, Jason—our father—is getting married. To a wonderful woman, I will admit. Meeting her was a little awkward and uncomfortable, but once she sat down, and we talked to her…I had never been happier in my entire life. This woman was…inspirational, and so nice. Honestly, I kinda liked her better than my real mom.

But I will not ever admit that out loud.

We had never met her before they decided to get engaged. They dated for a little over a year, but he always went to pick her up. He met her kids, but she never met his. Weird, I know, but that's how it worked out. So, when they decided to get engaged, they first asked her kids, and us. I thought that was a nice thing to do. Unlike some parents who are a little selfish and move to make themselves happy too.

Not that there's anything wrong with that. It was just so selfless, and I just…

Anyways, so, we met her, and we gave our full approval. Simply because she's amazing, and she's beyond perfect for Jason.

Jason loved my mom, or so he thought anyways. She was the head cheerleader, and he was the all-star quarterback. Same old cliché story there.

And she ends up a fucked up druggie, him a single dad with a son and a daughter—the latter being a fucked up mess.

Then, he meets Val. It's also cliché to say she changed his life, but she really did. Beyond what words can describe.

When we gave our approval, they told us the hitch they had decided, even after getting approval. They needed to make sure that we were compatible with her family, and vice versa. I really don't know what happens if we're not . . . .

At any rate, we decided, since her house is massive and has an extra bedroom and a basement—which I was given with the promise of complete renovation—that we would move in for the remainder of the summer. Which is just about a month.

Then, once we're positive we're compatible, or positive we're not, we'll let them know—all seven of us.

That made today the big day—the scary big day. Today was the day we moved in. And I'm so close to turning seventeen. So close I can taste it!

I know, I know. You're thinking, seventeen? So what? What does that get you?

Hello? Into R-rated movies? One step closer to eighteen?

But, right now, we were pulling in the driveway. Well, Jason's 2010 black lifted Toyota Tundra was pulling in. In the cab in the back of his truck, my poor 2012 Ducati Monster—blacked out except the glowing neon blue rims—was strapped down and unable to ride.

I had gotten that when I turned fourteen as a present for doing so good in rehab. Preston didn't want one, so he didn't get one.

But I wanted one, so I got one.

That's what makes me feel so terrible about all the stupidity I went through, all the stuff I put my dad and brother through. My life has been incredible compared to the lives of others. I mean, yeah, I lost my mom, but that doesn't make all of that necessary. Jason is an incredible vet, loved by all, and he's thought very highly of.

Just like Val, apparently.

My point is, there was never any wondering where the next meal was gonna come from, or checking the house for every last penny for the gas to get a parent to work. I mean, we got everything we wanted, pretty much.

Not to the point we were spoiled into conniving little brats. I mean, we were spoiled, but Jason didn't let it get to our heads. I mean, it's his money, not ours, so what's there to be arrogant about?

Enough of that rant there . . . because I can go on much farther than that. But I won't for sake of your sanity and my calmed temper.

Like I said, Jason was in the Tundra, which held my Ducati. Right, right. I was in my incredible 2011 blacked out Jeep Wrangler Rubicon Unlimited, which had all of my stuff that I would need this month. If they decided to get married, we would get the rest of our stuff, and we would sell all the unneeded furniture and house.

Preston and I swore to each other last night that no matter how bad this family is—not saying they will be, but it's a possibility—that we would suck it up and deal with it for just one more year. Jason was too happy to let this woman go, and she is so amazing. I can't stress that enough. I mean, we both love her too, but differently than Jason. Obviously. Trust me when I say I don't have an attraction to females. Not at all.

The problem we worried about was whether or not her kids would like us. Some of them were twenty-one, and I'm pretty sure we went to school with them all. The oldest ones would've been seniors our freshman year, so they wouldn't remember us—hopefully.

Jason told me all their names, but I couldn't remember them. Not exactly. There were just so many, and then one of them had a boyfriend staying here, I think? In separate rooms, obviously, so I knew Val wouldn't have trust issues.

And Jason was beginning to get over his, so I wouldn't be smothered here.

Back to our pact, and enough of my rambling.

So, yes, Preston and I decided to do whatever it took to make her kids love us. If it meant changing who we are around them, we were willing to do whatever it took. Because, no matter what, they'll get married, and Jason will be happy.

It was the one thing I was determined to do.