theHeart

Prolouge & Chapter 1

Prologue

            Okay… okay… I can breathe and I can feel… that means I’m still alive, right? Yes… I’m alive… damn.

            That was my only thought waking up. And I mean really waking up. Not just my eyes open and I’m in my bed safe and sounds. No, I mean I woke up in a strange place not knowing my place. It may sound strange, but if it happened to you, wouldn’t you feel similar? Especially if your intent had been to die. What a failure you must feel like then? I guess, though, if I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t mind. Now, I have that chance… so…     

            Let’s try again.

 Warning: This chapter has some sexual harrassment and physical abuse as well as use of drugs. Please keep an open mind.

Chapter 1

            I walked down the line of bathroom stalls for what felt like the millionth time. Maybe I was just being picky, or just paranoid like usual. Either way, I had to be sure no one was around and that I could be alone. I hated not being left alone… and I was rarely alone.

            Kicking open one of the creaky, nasty stalls, I shoved myself in and locked the door behind me. I sat down on the closed toilet seat, already feeling the hot tears roll down my face. I wiped them away furiously angry that I would even cry. They didn’t deserve the satisfaction of actually making me cry. Only I should decide whether or not I cry, and I would certainly not shed a single damned tear.

            But then I was being overtaken with the insanity, the paranoia, the bubbling pot of emotions overflowing. My hands began to shake, begging for that one thing, the only release that made sense to the fuzz balls in my already cloudy brain. In a panic, I dumped by bag out on the dirty ground and fell to me knees, sifting through the pile of shit I carried around. The twitching hand that didn’t feel like mine closed over the cool metal of my pocket knife. I’d gotten it for Christmas a few years back from my now non-existent mother to use for self-defense… and I did just happen to defend myself from myself.

            I sat back up, my mind transfixed with the weight in my palm. Pressing the button on the side sent the blade clicking up into place. It gleamed in the dim bathroom light. I rolled up my sleeve and ran the blade along the crisscrossed patterns that already made their way up my scarred arm. Blood trickled down and I felt a moan of satisfaction rise in my throat.

            Clicking on the bathroom floor made my mind break away from its sick and twisted pleasures. I grabbed for the toilet paper and wiped the blade, pushing it back down into its hold. Then I reached for more, wiping up the blood on my arms, careful not to leave stains on any other part of skin or clothing. Clenching my teeth I waited. The clicking steps had stopped and I seemed to be alone. A couple more clicks and then whoever it had been was completely gone.

            I let myself relax as a flushed the evidence of my problems down the toilet. Then I threw everything from my purse back into its resting place and left the stall. I proceeded to lean over a sink, feeling sick. It took all my strength to look into the mirror before me.

            A pale girl holding an olive complexion making her look sickly blue green, her wide, hazel green eyes staring back at me. Her thin, rosy cheeks stuck out on her face like a sore thumb and her dry, cracked lips were parted just slightly in a heavy breath. Dark, greasy hair fell around her face making her ghastly. She looked like she was dying.