The Words In My Head.

Fourteen.

There was only one way out. 

Only way to help my situation, to stop the pain, depression, bulimia.

Nobody understood, why there were scars on my body, from my neck down to my feet were covered in cuts that were made from a knife, a razor blade and anything else sharp that I could find in the house.
This specific time was the 15/01/2014 it was my 14th birthday and He had hurt me for the 100th time. 

I had opened up old wounds, locked myself in the bathroom and made two deep slits one per wrist,  i took a bottle full of tablets and drank an large bottle of vodka.

I remember getting into the bath, to make my Nan think that, that is what I was doing. After that I blacked out.

 I don't know how long I was unconscious for but I woke up in the hospital, with my stomach pumped, and wrists bandaged.

I was hooked up to so many machines, but there was nobody next to me. 

I was alone. Finally alone.

 In a place where nobody could hurt me, call me fat, ugly or take advantage of me.

That was the day I realized that I have two years until I can leave my personal hell, two years until I can be independent, two years until freedom.