Forged From Fire

Chapter 1: New beginnings

"The scariest monsters are the ones that lurk within our soul." -Edgar Allan Poe

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I am a Monster

I know this by the way I think. I may walk, talk, and act like a human being, but do not let that fool you because I am a monster and I should be treated as such.

These words remind me who I am...

I sliced the small, silver, rectangular blade across my very pale wrist.

I bit my lip, and tears sprang to my eyes as the pain flashed through my arm, starting from my wrist and tingled all the way to my hairline. But in those moments of pain, I felt free because the bite of physical pain was so much better than the heart crushing emotional pain.

Cutting has become my form of drugs, where some people look for heroin and marijuana, I look for a blade.

I looked at the light bulb surrounded by cracks in the ceiling, in my baby blue colored bathroom to keep my tears from falling. It helped just as it always does.

I felt the blood trickle around my wrist, forming a bloody cuff.

My very own shackles.

I chuckled at the thought and returned my gaze to the face staring at me from the mirror.

A girl with amber-colored eyes full of wrath and wavy auburn hair that was pulled back into a ponytail stared back at me in the reflective mirror. A gray bandana with intricate designs on it wrapped around her head to keep pieces of her hair out of her face.

Her face was heart-shaped, with a small, barely noticeable beauty mark on her left cheek and a silver nose ring piercing.

There wasn't a single piece of makeup on her face.

I rarely ever wore makeup. It felt cheap as if I was putting the icing on a terrible cake. It's not going to help what's really underneath. I once did an experiment and wore my mom's makeup and dressed like a popular for a week. I even curled and straightened my hair. Result: 3 boys asked for sex, 5 asked for my number and tons of people, women and men, stared at me non-stop. It was quite disturbing and it disgusted me to know that people are more willing to talk to prettier people with fancy outfits instead of those who can't always afford to have the same things as them.

Her slightly pink lips were curled, and her eyes flashed with a brilliant shade of golden-red as she snarled,"You are a monster, inside and out. You are worthless and unwanted. But you never give up do you, you'll never just end it."

I wouldn't, not ever, I promised myself that when I was ten and I will always keep that promise because I have things to live for....

Like my mom, I had to protect her from those boys she invites into our home every night.I think of all the stupid reasons as to why she invited them to our home. They only ever use and abuse us.

I say, boys, because, although they are around thirty years old, they do not treat her like a real man would. I know the difference between a man and a boy because I read. A lot. It is my one way to get away from all this pain and emotion that runs through my veins and infects my body, mind, and soul.

Every.

Single.

Night.

Does she do it for the sliver of money they give us? Is my mom secretly paying for a physical trainer? Maybe they are part of the mafia and they are threatening her? Is is just lust? Does she possibly love them?