Warning: Mentions of Self Harm and relationship abuse and Drug use
The thing about me, in any shape, form or way; is that I'm ugly. Ugly to the core, like deep shit ugly. And that's all I see in the mirror, that's all I ever will see. My ex-boyfriend, Greg, doesn't give two shits if I die, or even live. He just wants what all woman, usually, have; Pussy. He was a cheater and I knew that from the beginning of time, did I say anything? No.
I hide behind a black sweatshirt and sweats, usually hiding scars that I won't allow myself to look at. I don't look in mirrors because I know what looks back at me, a liar and an ugly fuck. But I know what your really here for, Spencer. When did I meet the love of my life, the thing that keeps me from offing myself, the best friend ever.
It happened last summer, I was walking to work, taking my sweet time. I hated that job at Target. Anyways, as I was walking a man bump into me, obviously high or something. I knew from experience what that looked like. I didn't tolerate the man's excuse for having been at the bar. Bars aren't usually open at 6:00 A.M. Which meant the obvious, he was dealing. I didn't bother on wondering what drug, I've been down that path too many times.
I walked away, but the next week I saw him again, this time slouching on a bench by my house as I'm walking home, that started up a conversation. "What are you stalking me?" I joke, nervously. I really did hope it wasn't true. I had a habit of being making fun of a situation, I bet if I was kidnapped, I would just laugh the whole time for God knows what reason.
"No," He whimpered, putting his head into his hands. I didn't realize until know that he had a weird way of showing he didn't care. He would just stop the conversation, usually not how people would work.
"What drugs you on this time?" I ask, lifting my head to the sky and lip syncing 'fuck you' to whoever saw me.
"Dilaudid," He's silent for a minute before he lifts his head, "How'd you-"
"Why the hell would you be on that shit!" I groan and look at him angrily, "You know that kills you faster then a fucking bullet!"
He stares at me, surprised. I didn't want to tell him how I knew. I didn't want to admit that I used to be like that, I didn't want to admit that I cared. Just as he was about to say something, my drunk, and probably drugged, boyfriend comes out of our house and walks down the street. If I ran, the man would look at me funny. If I scream, the man would probably get cardiac arrest. So I sat there, staring.
"Where the fuck have you been?!" He shouts, rushing toward me, "I told you to not be out after curfew, have you been dealing again! I just fucking got you off that!" He slaps me, not caring about the man. He scolds me as he grabs my hair and helps me to the house. "I WILL NOT HAVE YOU ON DRUGS AGAIN, Y/N!" He shouts, just as we get inside.
I hadn't seen the man again for over months after that, then the next time I saw him I was moving out. I had a box in one had and a black board in another. My hair was put up into a tight bun and I was helping my boyfriend with his movers, while he was drinking with his buddies. The man showed up again, this time he looked clean. Like he hadn't been dealing for months. He helped with boxes and even asked what my name was, I told him and he told me his. After that it was just history.
When Greg went out, Spencer came in. When Greg fell asleep, I moved to Spencer's house. It was like this for months. I was becoming a cheater, and I didn't care. All I cared was for me to be happy. Except, happy starts with Ha, showing you it's a joke to believe it exists. So, just as I'm finally learning what it was like to be happy, News breaks me down again.
Don't believe in love, it'll tear you apart and fly with your heart, like a dove.
That's the poem I wrote for myself and hung it up. Greg left me for some Britney Miles, after 2 months of me not leaving the house, or doing anything. I didn't move. My body shut down, and my mind was too busy to think. Spencer became a workaholic after our break up. It wasn't really a break up, nor was it not. We had a disagreement, about Greg, he said at the end 'I hope I will never see you again.' and then poof, I was gone. Spencer and I were to much in common, which messed me up more then him.
I was ugly then and am ugly now. I relapsed to doing drugs and cutting, and even started smoking. For no reason, just because, I wasn't enough.
I started my own book at the time called, Screw Men what About Women, I never published it, but it got me thinking. What about women? Are they better?
_________________
"And that's how I ended up in a bank, with a knife, and women held at gunpoint." I shrug, my wrists hurting from the chains. The man behind the table, who addressed himself as Agent Rossi, raised a brow, and looked through my files.
"That's a big turn of events," Rossi says, flipping through pages of work, "There had to be at least a 4-day gap if not more, do you remember any of it?"
"Fuck if I knew," I tell him, clenching my fists, a habit I gained in the time I've been locked up. The man's gray hair made him look in his mid 70's although he said he was 65 when I asked. I don't believe him but whatever floats his boat.
"So, you don't know?" He questions, looking up at me, flatly.
"You keep doing that," I point out, he raises a brow and sets his work down.
"What exactly?"
"Flipping through useless files of my childhood, avoiding eye contact, only then forcing yourself to look at me," I scoff, "If I'm that dirty to look at why are you even in here?" I point out, knowing that'll earn me a punch in the face, or a slap. "S-sorry," I say, minutes later.
"You didn't do it," He asks, "Did you?"
"The fuck?" I laugh, "Bitch look at the file thingy, it says it all!"
"Does it?" He narrows his eyes, "Does it, Y/n?"
I cough and blink at him, "Wait, now I'm confused, does it not?" I try to look at the files, only for him to move them away from my eye range.
"Y/n, you've been here for five years," He sighs, "But you didn't even do a crime."
"Holding Meth, holding an illegal gun, stealing, lying to a cop, killing someone and threating a lawyer," I list off everything I've done on my fingers, "That's nothing?"
"Your 35, You want to get out don't you?" He asks, smiling weakly.
"Hell, I'm just glad they haven't killed me off, yet" I chuckle, "Sorry, Dearest, I ain't doing shit for you."
Rossi leaves at that, coming back moments later with Spencer Reid himself. Spencer stares at me and tears fill his eyes. I stare at him, dumbfounded. I never knew I would get over Spencer, but I did.
"Y/n?" Spencer tears up more, "W-why?"
"I don't talk to you," I put my hand up and face away from him, "Rossi, babe, be a dear and get this son of a bitch out."
Spencer chuckles and leaves saying, 'always was feisty with her words', then Rossi sat down. "Y/n let me help you," He says, "Please?"
"No," I say blankly.
"Why?"
"Rossi," I shake my head and sigh, "I gave up when he killed my baby. Greg Mathews, killed a fucking baby! Wanna know the age? two! NOT ABLE TO FUCKING HAVE HIS FIRST ANYTHING!" I start to scream and then bawl into my arms, "That's why I killed Britney, okay? To get revenge," I tilt my head a smile, sweetly. "Happy?"
Don't believe in Love, it'll tear you apart and fly away with your heart, like a dove
-Y/n y/l/n
A/n: Okkayyy, so this was just something I wanted to write to get my anger out, BTW, I would never do any of this I just thought 'write something new!' So, I did. Kay I think that summarized that.... BYE!!! -Ali
