White Lies

the move

This story isnt edited, isn't finished and isn't perfect..

"Alright, it's all ready to go!" Shouts one of the movers to my father. The engine starts up as he starts pulling out of the driveway. I stare blankly out the back window as I see our grey-tan house in little old Virginia slowly sink into the sunrise. I lay my head down, stick my ear buds in and blare pierce the veil as loud as my ears will let me and slowly close my eyes. I start thinking about all the times I had here. All the good times. All the bad times. I'm not sure if I will miss this place. The schooling sucks, and not just because of the endless drama and bullies, but the teachers couldn't care less if you fail or not. I remember Bailey George, the "popular" at Decanter High School.

"OH MY GOD, LISA!!!! How are you?" Said Bailey in her annoying, mocking voice. I just keep walking, turned up my music and try to ignore her. She grabbed my coat and said "Lisa, answer me when I talk to you!" In a very ticked off voice. "I-i'm fine." I mutter while walking away. She's been bullying me since I first came to this crappy school.

I walk to my locker and put my things away and grab my phone, science book and headphones. I make my way down the long, narrow hallway until I finally reach the science room. I don't really mind science, I actually kind of enjoy it. The only thing I don't like is the people. I sit down in the middle row where nobody else was sitting. I can hear the giggles and I can smell the intoxicating aroma of different perfumes. I roll my eyes and reluctantly look behind me to see Bailey and her crowd of popular's surrounding her like bees to honey.

I turn back around and put my hood up, trying to hide my face. "Lisa!" Says Bailey as she pushes me "playfully". I don't know why she does this, but she knows that it pisses me off, so she gets a kick out of it. I roll my eyes again and look at her. "Yea?" I say in a ticked off way. "What is that perfume you're wearing? You smell like a French prostitute" she snickers and walks away. I get up and go to the bathroom where I pull out my blade from the back of my phone case where I keep all my blades. I pull up my sleeve and slowly drag the blade across my pale skin. I watch the blood start coming out, so I pull my sleeve back down and hurry back to science. I feel at least a little bit better.
My day usually went like this; I wake up at 4:02 am in a puddle of sweat and tears, I reluctantly get up and go to the bathroom where I lock the door behind me and sit with my back against the door. I look in the mirror and try to calm myself down. "you'll be okay, they're just dreams. They can't hurt you. It's okay. " I'll tell myself every morning. I get up, brush my teeth, take a shower, brush and straighten my hair, then make me way back to my room. I get to my room and it's about 5:00. I throw on some clothes and a baggy hoodie then make my way downstairs where I stop to look at my drunk father alone on the couch. I go outside and make my way to the bus at about 6:30. On the bus, I sit in the very back with my headphones in and I just close my eyes.
The bus ride ends and I have to go to hell - I mean, school. I go through all my classes then make my way back home, do my homework and fall asleep. I have the same routine just about every day.

The reason we moved was because of my dad. We got kicked out of our last house because my dad didn't pay the bills. He's always drunk. Ever since my mom passed away, I've been different. So has he. I spend most of my time in my room, sleeping, eating, listening to music or, well cutting. I usually fall asleep every night thinking of ways to kill myself. Ever since my mom died, it's been like this. Dad gets drunk, him and I fight, I go to my room crying and end up cutting. We're very dysfunctional.
    
      Today I started my new day at school. I walked in, found a place to sit and played games on my phone. This guy walked by, his head low, headphones in. He had flippy, black hair that kinda went in his eyes. He wore a Pierce the veil shirt and a hoodie. He sat in the seat in front of me, and as he did he kinda pulled up his sleeve and I noticed the cuts on his arms. I put my hand on my arm and felt the warmth of my arms and felt the sting of my fresh cuts from this morning. I smiled at the thought of maybe having someone else like me. I tapped him on the shoulder and quietly asked "what's your name?" He looked back and answered "Justin, yours?" For some reason I blushed when I responded. All I said was Lisa. He said that was a cute name.