Biographical Narrative

I was early. I tried the first door and it was locked as I figured it was. I started my laps around the building. I did this on cold days to keep warm as I waited to be let in. As I came up on the second door, I tried it. Through the tinted glass door, I could see a figure hop up from the couch inside and rush toward it. I stepped back as Alyssa greeted me.
I was surprised to see her there. "Hey, you," I smirked, stepping inside and standing beside the couch as she returned to it. We chatted as she fiddled with her phone. To be honest, I don't remember what we spoke about.
"They're almost here," she announced, almost randomly as she received another text. I stood, slightly dumbfounded to who she was talking about. During our conversation I had wanted to ask why she was there but those words never left my throat.
'Duh, Dumbass,' I thought to myself. 'She's your chaperon."
Within a few minutes, the missionaries arrived and with them, was a third young man of which I couldn't help but notice, had an unusually small head relative to the width of his shoulders. I looked back to Alyssa and wondered if she were staying after all. I had never had two chaperons before.
She did stay and I sat on the couch beside her while the missionaries brought up three chairs. My shyness didn't allow me to make eye contact with the young man the Elders had brought with them. Like many of my chaperons, he was ignored by me, only allowed to listen and never to be engaged. Alyssa was the exception for I knew her well and had known her since high school.
"How's it going, Laura?" Elder Evans asked as we went along with the ritual of shaking hands. Elder Evans was another who seldom received eye contact from me. I had been uncomfortable from the beginning with having to address both missionaries and several lessons ago, I had chosen to treat them as one person, choosing Elder MacPherson's face for said person.
"This is our man, Sammy D. He's back from his mission."
I wouldn't have been surprised if this Sammy D. had still been a missionary. The only difference between his attire to those of the Elders was a lack of name tag. I began to wonder if I was supposed to be dressing up for these lessons. I looked to Alyssa. Didn't seem to be.
Mr. Sammy D. and I shook hands as is customary and then we both sat.
We had a table between us this time. This made me feel safer oddly, more comfortable, more capable to address both missionaries instead of just Elder Macpherson today. Elder Evans brought out his zip bag full of paper cut outs and my intelligence began to feel mocked but I played along and found that it actually helped to understand the idea my father had tried to failed to explain so many times before.
My eyes kept darting to my left, across to Sammy D. He wasn't like the boy, Bobby, they had brought with them before.

***

"This seat taken?"
The nerves fired and my gut twisted. I had liked it better last week when our chairs had been arranged in rows. I could sit in a corner and hide then. Now we were in a circle and everyone could see me. "No," I said, looking up. For once I could put a name to a face. His head didn't seem so small this time and I came to realize that that wasn't the problem at all. His suit jacket made his shoulders stick out too far. Her certainly wasn't a bad looker though.
My eyes returned to the Gospel Principles book the missionaries had given me this morning. My driver had left me alone this time, alone to fend for myself and this was my self defense.
People were talking, stating their names. They came to me. "Laura Clawson," I mumbled, glancing across them and then back down.

(UNFINISHED)

Hostilities

Its ebbing inside of me again, this despair, this dislike for myself. And as these feelings of dislike enter my mind, I begin to remember what I've learned in the last few months, knowing that I shouldn't be doing this to myself and I hate myself even more. Oh, the joy of endless spirals, roller coasters if you will.
I feel it more day by day, this hostility, these feeling of being unwanted at home. So I spend all of my time outside of the house, I spend time with Sammy, I go to school, to church, to Nakia's house. And why does this make things worse for me the few times that I am home? My mother dislikes me as a person and my father dislikes my being home. I feel sick inside as I wake in the mornings, hearing them speak about me so I pretend to sleep, lying in bed until Mom goes to work and Dad goes back to bed for his nap. Often times, I end up falling asleep before these things happen and when I wake again, I hate that I've wasted much of my day.
I pray for help, help with employment. I fasted three times in a two week period for this. Now that I have found employment, I now worried about how I'm to find appointments to schedule and also how I'm to juggle this into my already complicated schedule. I need this job to pay well, well enough for a small apartment but even apartments in CA require a room-mate. I need to be away from this environment. Its poison to me. I love my family, but I've truly had enough of this.

How I Wonder

You asked me why I joined the church and at first I thought you were accusing me of joining only for you. Still, though, I wonder...
You didn't know the person I was, how ugly, how vengeful, how vindictive and angry. And even now I hide the fear. How I wonder what you'd think of me if only you'd known me before I found this happiness, this revelation, this truth. If you saw these scars and I told you what they were from. If you knew what gave me the title, "Survivor," and why the only songs I know how to sing are the sad ones...
But I want you to know this, I did not join for you, I joined for the things I'm too scared to reveal. You're only the second best thing to ever happen to me. The first happened under the water...