It's Just Me

Chapter One

I woke up, feeling dazed as always. The word is in my mouth. Scars. I looked down at my wrists. Streaks of red went across them. Tears formed in my eyes as I stared at them. They burned as I blinked them away. I am nothing. I would always think to myself. I got up out of bed, and walked toward my walk In closet, which has a big mirror on the door. I stared at myself. I am nothing. I thought again. More tears form. But this time I let them fall. Ever since my sister moved out I have had this room. Big. Empty. Just me in here. She never knew that my mother abused me. I never had a big room when I was young. It belonged to my sister. Period. I walked into the closet, and thought about how my mom used to lock me in my old closet when I still slept there. In that small room. Half of that room was literally the closet. The other half had a desk and a small bed that wasn't even big enough for me to fit in when I turned 10. That thought led to the thought of my mother, eating those pills and walking toward me with that menacing face and I backed away into my closet grabbing a pillow from my bed for protection. But let me tell you, that pillow never worked as she lifted her fist and beat me. It's only for your own good. she would assure me. I always thought that was true. That is until junior high, when I started telling people about my mother. I remember my friends, leaving me behind after I told them about it. I remember the kids at school pointing fingers in my face, teasing me saying, What are you gonna do? Go and tell your mommy? Oh that's right! You don't have one! Then when she found out about me telling people at school she lifted up her foot as I cried out and kicked me in the stomach. The thoughts went out of my mind as I looked at my clothes, which were all black. I picked out a sweater and black jeans. I also picked out a pair of flats. I put them on along with my clothes and brushed my messy hair. I heard my mom call me. She sounded like she had eaten a pill a few minutes before she called me. "ZOEY! Time for breakfast!" She called. I put on my thick bracelets to cover up my scars, put on some concealer to hide my black eye, and ran down the stairs. I knew that I had to be down there quickly for breakfast or I would have to be prepared for a beating after school. I walked into the kitchen and saw my mom sitting in a chair putting a pill in her drink as she said, "Answer me when I call you next time!" She sounds drunk. I eat my one piece of toast while she has a poorly made omelette and a tall cup of orange juice. I grab my backpack without saying a word and walk out the door. I have to walk 8 blocks to school. I start walking to the left and think about it. My sister was never treated this way. She was never abused. Or neglected. She never experienced what I had.

She never did.