FLASHBACK

There sat a little sandy brown haired girl with hazel eyes. She waited on the docks each day waiting. Waiting for her father to come back from his two year war. Each day, after school, she'd come straight home, grab a snack, and wait at the docks for her father's boat. Her mother would come down and bring her home when the sun set.

END OF FLASHBACK

That was eight years ago. My name is Aileenie Lockheart, and I have problems. I would hear and see things that normal people couldn't see. Every night I would hear a baby crying. Every night I would always see my father's ship at the pier. Every night my father would always tuck me in. But he was never really there. It was always his spirit there. I've told my mother, but she didn't believe me. She never really paid any attention to me since I have five younger siblings back home. So she sent me to live with her bestfriend, Denise Jonas and her family on tour.

Every night I would always softly cry myself to sleep. Some nights I wouldn't even be able to sleep. But no one could see the pain and misery behind me bright eyes and my fake smile. Everyone thought I was a perfect child. Nothing was wrong. But they were wrong. I haven't left the tourbus since I came on. I would always fear that I'd see my father. Whenever someone wanted to help me, I would always turn them away and tell them that nothing was wrong. Something was literally wrong with me. Other than the dreams, and the baby cries, I used to cut myself. But I'm over that cutting myself phase. Today, I still cry myself to sleep, and hear the baby cries and have the dreams.

No one could understand me. I was always a wierd and stubborn child. I always questioned Mrs. Jonas why she ever agreed to take me into her family. She always said that she loved me and her family. Her sons were nice to me too. Each day when they woke up, they would always ask if I wanted to come along. But I would always turn them away. I would write down my emotions in my blue notebook. I would write a poem each day and I would never let anyone read them. I wouldn't even let anyone touch it. Whenever someone asked me what was in the book, I would always ignore them or answer nothing. They wouldn't understand my pain.

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DONE! As I said, this ISN'T a story. It's a five-shot.