All I am (Completed)

I dream of Death

"Why don't I feel the way I want to feel? It's like I have to always pretend to be happy and okay; the way they want me to be. In reality, I want go slit my arms wide open and welcome death. I have never really felt this low before and I hate it. This is a mental place I don't want to be. Everything is affecting me and I hate that. I don't wanna be soft and sensative. I don't want to be like that at all, that's not who he wants me to be."

Looking down at the paper, I sighed. I wrote just about that amount everyday. My stories are weak and my poetry is nonexistent. My unlimited thoughts beyond death became cries among the living.

No. I have to get out of this mood I'm in. Being that I'm only a sophomore in high-school, I have to have my head on straight. Junior year is just around the corner and before you know it, I graduate.

At this rate, I'm not sure I'll see eighteen. The things I see and hear at night make me scared to close my eyes. That was before I knew who they were from. He puts demons around me to keep me from harming myself. "Until it is time my love."

In my eyes, There is no reason to stay alive when you can die. Death is for the living and rest is for the dead.

Just about everyday I have the feeling that I want to leave the earth. There is nothing left for me here. I've already served my purpose.

Lately, I feel empty. The world under my feet slips and the cracks indulge me in impure practices. I mean, no one is proud of their scars. When I think about it. I am.

When I was little, things happened and my way of dealing with them was razor to wrist. Soon enough, I found out that people don't usually accept that, so I began concealing them.

I looked down at my hand and smile. The vertical lines show me a timeline of my life. Somethings I have to get over and things I want to do over. Being that death is really the only thing that separates the living from the dead, I need a release. I don't want to be the one everyone talks about at lunch.

"Hey, have you seen that suicidal girl?"

"You mean her over there with the slits on her wrist? Yea."

"What would cause someone to hurt themselves? That's beyond stupid."

I thought to myself, they don't know my pain. If they had to go through the same things, they would rather die. I sit by myself and watch them stare at me in amazement and fear. They think I just want attention. I really wanted someone to hear my cries but Lucifer already heard me.

Hel, what a name. The name that made me is the name that would break me to pieces.

Who cares what people think about my name? I'm sure they have stranger things that they could make fun of.

I was cool with certain people once. I was never popular but I knew people. They would talk to me, to be friendly I guess. But I felt like things couldn't get any better from there and I was right.

The day I came back, I didn't speak to anyone. My mother spoke to the school and no doubt a few words got out to the students. I remember the first day back. My teacher announced to the class to not ask me questions about the "accident" and to let me take my time to come back to my senses. I wanted to tell her that I know what an accident was and it was not that. I was not sure what happened to me but I knew it hurts like hell. I cried as she said that. From that day, they all viewed me differently.

"Hel, what's wrong?"

"What happened?"

It was pathetic that kids wanted to know what the "accident" was without caring. I knew they would understand so I told them it was nothing. Everyone was just blowing it out of proportion.

I knew what he did to me but I had no idea what it meant. My counselor got me a therapist that told me that it was a bad thing.

There are somethings. That are uncontrollable. But I knew that wasn't one of them. I had the feeling that rape was a bad thing. He hurt me and I knew that I was hurt. The pain was too much for me to bear. Blood rushed from my thighs to the ground. I was mad. I trusted him. He betrayed me.

"I'm sorry," he said. His image was hazy and my mind went blank. "Come here" I looked away from him. I didn't want to go to him. I was falling. "I promise it will feel good soon. I promise."

"You promised not to hurt me. But you... you..."

I woke up for a moment and heard him weeping.

"I'm sorry. Come here. It will feel good."

"Stop. It hurts. I can't feel my legs." After that, he left.

The next time I woke up, my mother was by the bed sobbing. The doctors rushed in and checked me. They asked questions that I didn't even know the answer to. I had questions of my own. In the middle of the examination, I looked to my Mom. She came toward me and said, "my baby."

"Bitch. You knew. You knew." I screamed at her. I threw up once more and they removed her from the room. I kept crying and screaming, she knew he was going to hurt me. She knew and she did nothing. It didn't feel good or right. It felt like everything was tearing and there was nothing I could do about it. I hated her. I didn't know what hate was but I hated her. She let me die. I could hear her voice in the back of my head "Hel, I'm sorry." She wasn't sorry. I felt death coming toward me that night and I screamed out for help. There were four or five men walking towards me, they held me down as I fought for my life. I screamed and screamed till my voice got hoarse. As soon as they reached out to grab my soul, I jerked up.

I was safe. I told myself I was safe in the hospital. "Not for long." I heard another voice whisper.