I awoke this morning full of hope. Packing my things in a small backpack and the one suitcase I had, the rest I stuffed in two garbage bags. For once I didn’t care, this is the last time I told myself.

I quickly brushed my teeth and hair. Throwing my waist length blackish brown hair in a loose ponytail. I didn’t care if it knotted, not today.

At a quarter to nine I made my way to the office. I know they won’t be open yet but I’m too excited. I can wait down there and hopefully sneak past the other kids unnoticed.

The day had finally arrived, today is my 18th birthday.

Growing up bouncing from one foster home to another was bad enough. Some of them were nice but most treated me like a paycheck. Spending most of my time isolated in makeshift rooms while the people took the state’s money.

Don’t get me wrong there were some good ones too. Tabitha will always be my favorite. A single mother of two she worked hard to take care of her family. The money she got for taking me in mostly went to me. It was the first time I got new clothes and didn’t go hungry.

I was 13 when I got placed with her. She had two girls one was seven and the other ten. It was great until Laila came along and ruined everything.

My 16th birthday, I woke up to someone saying my name. I didn’t recognize the voice, but I assumed it was Tabitha or one of the girls. Only when I opened my eyes there was no one there.

Thinking maybe it was a dream I got up and started getting dressed. Nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard it again. Standing in-front of the mirror, as clear as day. “You’re not going to wear that shirt, are you?” I frantically looked around the room, but I was still alone.

“What is happening?” I said out loud.

“The blue shirt would look so much better on us.” The voice said.

Still searching for where the voice was coming from. “Who are you?” I asked.

“I’m Laila but I’m you, but I’m also not you, I’m me. Does that make sense?” The voice said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“No! Not at all.” Staring at myself in the mirror. Okay there has to be a reasonable explanation. I bet one of the girls is playing a trick on me. I quickly searched the room, looking under the bed and in every possible hiding spot in the room. I couldn’t find anyone.

I went looking for Tabitha she could get the girls to stop picking on me.

I found her in the living room getting ready for work. As soon as she saw me a look of disappointment came over her face.

“Can you tell the girls to stop picking on me please, it’s not funny. They really scared me.”

Disappointment turned to concern when she answered. “Honey, the girls are at school, as you should be. Are you not feeling well?” She asked putting her hand up to my forehead.

“No, I feel fine. I guess my alarm didn’t go off.” I replied.

The voice chimed in once again startling me. “I turned it off, I don’t want to go.”

“Did you hear that.” I asked Tabitha.

“Hear what dear?” Tabitha said moving her hand to my cheek still checking me for a fever.

“You didn’t just hear someone say she turned off the alarm because she didn’t want to go to school?” I asked my eyes starting to fill with tears.

The voice laughed loudly. “She can’t hear me silly.”

I burst out in tears. “You really can’t hear her.”

Tabitha held my face in her hands, tilting it up making me look at her she asked, “Hear who honey?”

“Again, she can’t hear me, now can we get back to the shirt. You’re not really going to make us wear this boring t-shirt, are you?” The voice said.

“Shut up!” I screamed.

Tabitha just stared at me chewing on her upper lip.

“Not you, I’m sorry.” I said.

With a big hug Tabitha reached in her purse and pulled out her phone. “I’m going to call your case worker. I’m sorry sweetie, I don’t know what to do.”

Within the hour Marci, my case worker, had an appointment lined up with a psychiatrist. Tabitha had never called before; besides the scheduled visits we didn’t see Marci. So, when Tabitha called before office hours, she knew it was an emergency.

That was the first time I saw Dr. Jurard , or Dr. Tard as I call him, and the last time I saw Tabitha. Dr. Tard is a quack, I wasn’t even in his office for maybe 15 minutes, and he somehow decided I had some kind of psychological break, and that Tabitha was abusing me. Marci went and picked up my things. I never got to say goodbye.

At first, I had to see Dr Tard three days a week and take six different medications every day. The voice was gone, and I did everything I could to get things back to the way they were. Eventually I realized no matter what I said or how good I was doing they would never let me go back to Tabitha.

The group home was lonely, the other teens goth or angry. Always starting fires or fights. I kept my head down and just tried to be invisible counting the days until I could leave this place.

Six months passed and I stopped taking the medication. Maybe I am crazy but at least I would have someone to talk to.

Laila was mad at me at first and wouldn’t even acknowledge me. I couldn’t believe it, even my imaginary friend that lived in my head wanted nothing to do with me.