Year 2017: Chloe Vollenhoven Diary

If I thought last year had started poorly. This year… What can I say about 2017?

My name is Chloe Vollenhoven. I’m a girl. A woman? Anyway, I’m 16 years old just four months shy of my 17th birthday and I’m in a hospital bed. I’ve been here for a few weeks now. I’m basically in recovery. If you’re wondering why there are two diaries or journals for a girl named Chloe Vollenhoven, I’ll tell you. It’s because I failed my year. Shocker!!!

Dad brought my school books and this month’s teaching schedule. So I know what I need to do. I just don’t feel like doing any of it. I don’t feel like I have the desire to do any of it anymore. I asked that they put me in college to finish the rest of my schooling before I even knew that I’d failed the year. I actually still can’t believe it. I told them there had to be some kind of mistake but they were adamant. No mistake. I’d failed the year by five points. In itself that is almost impossible to comprehend. Like I’d not written two or three papers in order to score so low. Mom and dad, however, had already followed up all avenues to make sure the score had been correct. Everyone had checked and double checked. I’d failed.

Dad blames himMom says he can’t be the reason. I need to take responsibility for myself. I miss him, though. It hurts so much, I can’t even write his name. I keep hearing dad tell mom that he told her me having a boyfriend was a bad idea and now we are here. In a hospital. It’s not exactly true. I just needed to feel like I was in control of at least one part of my life. I wasn’t trying to die. I was never trying to die. I wouldn’t do that to Jack. He is the most perfect little brother in the whole universe. I saw his face the night I was brought in and … I felt sorry for him. Sorry that I couldn’t explain it. It was my mom who saw the signs. She’s been watching me. Always watching. Even when I think she’s too busy to notice. Somehow she is never really that busy that she misses things. Especially not when she is paying special attention. She’s been in here every day while Jacks’ at school and then after work dad pops by. I don’t want Jack to come. I don’t want Jack to see me like this.         

The nurse sticks around while we eat. Oh yeah, I have a roommate. She looks much worse than I do. She’s really sick. Sicker than I am. Mom got in my head early enough but Vicky’s parents didn’t see it going on for over a year! I had weeks. Just weeks before mom stepped in and brought me here. I asked her how she knew and … she said she recognised the signs. 

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