destruction.

one. (lucy)

i dont remember exactly when it started. i think it was around year 6. i would constantly have flashbacks and nightmares of my past, and id wake up to see i ripped out strands of my hair, or that i had broken yet another mirror. it wasnt strange to me, it happened all the time.

but eventually the flashbacks would occur during the day. theyd hit me when i was least expecting them.

its gotten to the point where i hear voices, saying the things i was constantly told growing up. i'd see familiar faces only to find out i was imagining them. at this point i couldnt tell what was real and what wasnt. so i kept it all to myself.

i missed my mother a lot, but my father had told me she wasnt fit to be a mom. she left about a year before the flashbacks began to occur. shes what started it all.

one day i came home from school to find my mother gone, and my dad sitting at the table with a bottle of booze. and thats how it stayed.

i come home, he yells, throws something, takes another swig from the bottle, and i run up to my room. i skip dinner for the simple fact i dont want to face my piece of shit dad.

im not good with letting out my feelings, so i keep it all inside. which is probably why i break. and when i break the only thing i rely on is the purple box containing my blades.

the only thing i hear from my dad is how im the reason my mother left.

ive spent years trying to figure out why i destroy everything around me.

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a/n: really bad start, i know. im sorry. i wanted to make it kind of like poetry, so i might rewrite it.