Devil Town

Part 2

WARNING: This chapter describes and mentions self harm.

"Skylar! Come down here!" A deep voice yells up to me.

"Not now father.." I'm thinking in my mind, not wanting to get up from the covers of my bed.

"Skylar Lynn! Right now!" Dad calls again.

"Coming dad!" I yell back, dragging myself from the sheets, then sliding my feet into my dark green slippers that lay on the floor next to my bed. I pick up my cozy black zipped up sweatshirt from the floor and drape it over my shoulders. I open the door, the light blaring onto my face. My eyes prefer the darkness of my room. 

"Yeah, what's up dad?" I said, gripping the stairs railing as I walked. What the hell could my father want?

"There you are, you finally come out from that dark cave of yours." My parents had me young, so my father still has his youth with his green eyes, dark brown hair, and clean shaved face. I got most of his attributes, from his brown hair to his tall height. 

"It's not a dark cave. It's my room." 

"Well, most sixteen year old kids are out socializing, hanging with friends." 

"I don't do that." I mutter under my breath, and discreetly roll my eyes.

"And most kids your age aren't wearing wool hats inside." 

"What's wrong with my beanie?" 

"It's pretty much covering your eyes, and it's warm out, you don't need to wear all of those dark colors."  Dad raises his bushy brown eyebrows.

"Where's mom?" I ask, changing the subject.

"Ugh, you're too sensitive." He mutters. "Mom's out with her friends."

I knew that was code for "she doesn't want to be around us and is tired of dad."

"So why'd you call me down here?" 

"I just wanted to see you. Your brother's at Trevor's right?"

"Yeah he should be back around seven or seven-thirty."

"At least Dylan has friends..." Wow. That's cold dad.

I didn't really have anything to say, he was right. I really didn't. Sure, their were some people at school I could call my acquaintances, but I didn't like them enough to hang out with them one on one or anything. I used to be really close with a boy in my class, I always thought that we where going to get together one day, and I know everyone else thought the same thing. But about a month before my parents started having problems, he moved away.

"Can I go back to my "dark cave" now?"

"Sure, Sky. You have school tomorrow, don't stay up too late." 

I gloomily walk up stairs, slamming the door after I enter my room. I plop onto my bed, crawling into the dark purple covers. I open my nightstand drawer, using the flashlight on my phone to look for my book. I noticed my pocketknife grandpa bought me for my birthday.  He carved the handle out of wood from the tree he had cut down in his backyard. Too bad grandpa and grandma live in Washington, pretty far away from Florida where we live. We don't see them often.

For some reason, I pick the knife from the drawer, inspecting it. It's not too sharp, but would hurt if I sliced someone. Or myself? What are these thoughts? Before my sense kicks in, I take the knife and slice my right cheek open, blood slowly spilling onto my cheek.