Issues

4

TW: self harm.

•••

"Finally she's home" dad scoffs as soon as I enter the house. I slowly shut the front door, trying not to make a 'slam' sound.

"Slept with more men?" He asks me.

"Excuse me?" I say shocked.

If I had the opportunity to kill him right here I would most fucking definitely.

Where the Mafia men at?

"You heard me." He rolls his eyes.

I'm expecting some character development.

Then the sudden urge to cut myself came in.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck.

"For your kind information, I was out working, making money." I tell him, keeping my eyes on the ground.

"Sure," he mutters.

I shake my head and lead myself upstairs and immediately lock myself in the bathroom. I've bent down, opening the cupboard to the sink lower cupboard.

I search for my blade. Finally finding a lift my sleep cup and shut my eyes as I cut on my forearm.

Not once.

Not twice.

But four times

Fuck.

I was fucking almost 1 month clean. I just stare at my arm and look as the blood drips down fast.

Now I know what you're thinking.

Amora, why would you cut on your forearm, well that's because I've ran out of space on my upper arms.

"Amora?" Mom calls out.

"Um yeah?" I call out.

"Are you okay?" she asks. Wow, she's really asking me if I'm okay?

What the fuck? "Fine?" I say unsure in hopes she'll leave me the fuck alone.

"Okay?" she mumbles before walking away.

"Fuck" I whisper to myself. I clean myself a little before stepping into the shower. I want to leave, bad.

But where and on that note I don't have enough money to do so. I don't make much at the bookstore, and I wouldn't be able to make enough working anywhere else.

I can't even go to college. I can't make a future for myself.

*＊✿❀ ❀✿＊*

I had the weirdest fucking dream ever. It was a... it was a fucking wet dream-

I know I know! What the fuck!

I'm so fucking embarrassed! And guess who was in it.. fucking Lorenzo Romano.

"I hate him, and I don't even know him!" I tell Sam as I stack some books up.

"At least now he unmistakably won't come back" she giggles.

"You're right," I say.

"She quit!" A woman shouts as she enters the book store with her daughter. I assume, "go pick whatever you want." She tells her, moving the phone away from her a little.

The little girl nods her head and runs off. "I don't think I can't find a new babysitter that fast," she whines.

"That's what I did, I increased the $100 offer, she still didn't want it." She scoffs. "I guess I have to take her to Paris with me" the woman mutters.