Wrong Number ? Dylan O'Brien & Tyler Posey

Dear diary,

It's 2:00 a.m. here in California, which I don't know what's happening. All that went down yesterday was pretty fucked up. It was weird. I didn't expect, just by picking up a phone call, my whole life to be like this. It was crazy. But no matter how many times I write about it, it would always be true. It would always be true that.......

Five Days Before:

"One.... Two.... Three.... Four..... Five.... Six.... Seven.... Eight..... Nine..... Ten.... Ready or not here I come!" I yell.

Me and my younger brother, Stephen, were playing hide and seek while our miserable mother sits on the couch watching talk shows all day. What happened to our father you might ask. Well. The only reason we live in a pretty large house, since my mother doesn't work, is because he's filthy rich. He owns ten office buildings, making him make a little less than a million a year. But he did leave us when I was 12. I'm now 17 and my brother is 11. He's mostly a dick and is no father at all. The only reason he lends us money is because, if he didn't, he probably would get hated and known for the man that left his family to die on the streets. I mean, we do have an aunt Barbara. But she lives in freaking London, so if he bails on giving us the money, we have no where to go. Our only option would be London. But here we are living a shitty life and a shitty lifestyle.

"Cara, your fucking dick of a father is on the phone. Pick up the other line!" My mother, Cathy yells through the house.

"Alright mother! Calm down! There is a kid in the house. Stop with the language! Please!" I roll my eyes, shouting so she could hear me.

"Hey, I'm not a kid," Stephen says jumping on my back as we sit down on my bed.

"Sure you're not," I laugh.

"Hey Rick... I mean dad," I say picking up the phone.

"Cara, you know how I feel about you not calling me dad," he says.

"Yeah, yeah, I know dad, I'm sorry," I say. This is literally the nicest he's ever been. Ever.

"Alright well it was so fun talking to you," he says sarcastically.

"Put your bitchy mother on the phone," he says.

"Sure thing.... Rick," I quickly hung up the phone and screamed downstairs to my mother, "He's all yours!"

The only reason I'm partially nice to my mother is because she's alone. Even though she has us two. She's alone. She's never gotten drunk or done drugs on us. Which I had to give her credit. But she was a bitch to us. When I turn 18, I was going to get emancipated and leave this hell hole and move to California. I have it all planned out.

My friend, Amanda, would come with me since her birthday is a little before mine.

I would legally take my brother and would fend for our own life.

I would ask my dad for money, and he probably wouldn't say no or else I would expose him to all the people that look up to him as a leader of the community.

But I would change that if I have too.

The house of the doorbell rang.

I went to open it and saw my best friend Amanda.

"Thank God you're here," I hug her. We run upstairs to my room.

"I have to get out of here," I say pacing around the room scarily and furiously.

"Well. We just have to wait another year," Amanda says.

"No I can't," I say, running my hand through my hair. "I have to leave right now. Right now---!"

My phone rang.

Silence. Complete silence. Except for the ringing of my phone.

"Who is it?" Amanda asks