Burn (Finished! Working on sequel!)

Kidnapped: Ages 15 - 18

After dropping out of school, I looked around my trashed room. I rubbed my nose, still crying. I was almost 16 and my mom was thinking we could go back to the old hometown where dad had died, to spend it with him. I was starting to think that doing that wouldn't be very fun, when I was younger, I had thought it was a great idea, but now, with all of this going on, I just didn't want to go anymore. 

After what had happened with the breakup, I wanted life to be over. The words that all those adults had seared into my mind, I just wanted to die. Everything I tried to do now, seemed to end badly, so why try anymore?

I started to cry, looking around my room some more. Finally, I had found what I was looking for. I took out the pen and opened the journal to a fresh page. At least this was one fresh start in my life that couldn't end badly. I thought. I tried thinking over any past events that really got my blood boiling. 

I could think of thousands. I dedicated this entry to my father, to show him just how much pain and agony I was in.  My hands shook, trying to get my hand to write, but it wouldn't move. It was like a force of gravity was pushing against me writing my thoughts down on paper. I willed my hand to move with all my strength, finally getting it to write. 

Dear Daddy, My life is a mess right now. I really need you here right now. Mom isn't too well anymore, and is starting to get ill. She's been going to a hospital a lot more frequently then I would like her to, and it's really scaring me. If I lose her, I lose everything. I would go to an orphanage, run away, or just die. Speaking of dying, I'm trying to look on the positive things right now, but that's impossible. There is not one shred of good in my life anymore. That kind of stopped around the age of 11 when Mom had told me Life Will Never Be Fair and that gave me a new mindset of things. Life is gonna change around here real soon, Daddy. Sometimes, I have to blame things on you or Mom just to try and remember that not everything is my fault, although just going though my first breakup, that's kind of hard to do and it really hurts to think about it. It was this cute boy named Caleb, and he ended up cheating on me, he got sick of me and left me, Daddy. He left me for a nobody! I'm sorry, this is too painful to talk about right now. I'll try and talk to you soon again. I love you, Daddy. I'm trying to see the light- It's hard. -Emerson M. Kendall 

After that, I chose that things needed to change. Life would be a whole lot tougher on me, and I needed to see that. Life would no longer support me to take care of my every need- I needed to understand that. Having all of this stuff happening to my right now, really opened my eyes. Every night it got to the point that my mother would find me sheets soaked with sweat and I would be muttering: "Life is not fair and it will never, ever be." It got so bad, I was put in a mental hospital. 

I tried really hard to try and look on thee bright side- But there was no bright side anymore. At school I was now considered no longer "This funny girl" I was now thought of as "The girl who cannot get her head together."

People started thinking I had gone crazy, that my parents were beating me at home- but really, that was my mind beating me. I was only making things worse. I was the one who was causing me all this pain. I was the one who had chosen to go out with Caleb. I was the one who chose to watch my father die. 

Everything in my life now seemed that it was all revolving around me being the main source of the problem. 

That's when I found that little pocket knife. That's when I was able to express my angers with a swift cut to the wrist or arm. These would be the scars, never forgotten, of how much pain I would have to suffer through every. Single. Day. One day, after my arms were cut to the point where almost every inch of it was covered in blood stains or scars. My skin had gotten very pale and I didn't eat as much.