Catching Feelings.

My Story

"Hold on," the voices were screaming from around me. Pleas, whispers, desperate calls, and screams. But I couldn't listen to them anymore. 

All I've known in my life is holding on. Holding on to things that didn't want to hold on to me. 

My life felt like walking upstream in a current that is strong enough to pull me under four times over. There are others with me, but they are walking along the banks, telling me to "just get out of the water," But instead of extending a hand out to help me, they just move on and leave me behind.

Every once in a while, I find a rock that is strong enough for me to lean on, and I can rest for a bit. But the rocks always get tired of holding me up, and they let go; I'm left drowning, thrown 50 ft. back again.

And nothing is harder than standing up in that current, when everything in you is telling you how much easier it would be if you just let yourself get dragged under.

You might not understand now, but here you go. A story of a once miserable girl who became in a place millions wanted to be in. 

This is my story.

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"Name: Lexie Scarlet Grey
Father's Name: Henry
Age: 17 years
Time of residence: 1 year. Hmm, you are good to go now," The woman at the reception area told me. "Never thought 16 year olds need rehab." she mumbled under her breath.

As I walked away I thought to myself "It's been a year already?" Wow. I must have been asleep like forever. Finally I could live a normal life.

Still not understanding? Well let's rewind to the beginning.

Here I am an average teenager, well not so average, maybe below average.

Everyone in this world seems to see Manchester as that sunny, happy place. But, why can't I? Is it just me that Manchester hurt?

So you already caught my name... Lexie.

I'm a 17 year old who just got back to life. At age 12, my parents divorced. Being a Scottish, my mom left England to go back to Scotland. Yeah, I stayed with dad. He was that type of person who puts work in front of everybody. And I have no siblings. Great!

Work home. Home work. That was everywhere my dad goes. Mine wouldn't count it's just... home. I quit school. Dad was too busy to notice I was devastated. My life wasn't rainbows and sunshine... never was.

I was empty. Empty of motherly love, father care, sibling friendship. I had nothing... no one. A gap was waiting to be filled and my only way to fill it was drinking. I used to steal my father's alcoholic drinks. I never blamed dad. The only I blamed was me. I gave up on life. I was drunk, always. I was 15, only, but I was addicted. I go crazy without it. One night, while dad was at work, as usual, I ran away from home. Whiskey bottle in my hand, I walked through the dark streets of Manchester. I saw a group of boys standing under a dim light. I walked closer. Close enough for them to spot me. Did I say boys? Scratch that. Those were drug dealers, dangerous ones. Their terrifying looks got me running faster than a track race. I ran, till I reached a road where trucks pass. A flashing light appeared from far away. So i made up my mind. I decided to end the misery and pain. I stood still and waited. A blinding yellow light hit my face. I closed my eyes and waited for the pain to come. The sound of the horns got louder and louder. I stayed still. Two seconds and it's over, Lexie. Aaannndd, it didn't. I was pushed away by somebody. "Are you crazy?" he yelled as he was over me.

He was about 40 years old. Wearing a black hoodie. I couldn't see his face. His rough beard covered it. "Get off of me, I wanted to die!" I yelled back. "Shut up" he screamed, slapping my face. I could feel my left cheek burning. I screamed at the top of my lungs. He punched me. I was too weak to get him off of me. Things got worse. He tried to rape me.