Considered Insane: How They Saved My Life (NO LONGER UPDATING)

Chapter 2

My head spins as I scramble sit up, dazed and numb all over. I can barely recall what happened to me, let alone why I was lying face down in a pool of. . . blood? My head whips around to view my surroundings and a deathly pain explodes throughout my body, originating from my back. I lay on my side in the blood, convulsing as though I throw up from the sudden pain. The numbness that enclosed my body fades, so the cuts in my back are no longer obscure from me feeling them. I weakly lift my head to peer at my back; my shirt has been lifted up over my shoulder blades as well as my hair. The once soft, pale flesh of my back is now raw and oozing blood from several wounds that were carved there. Everything hits me at once; a malicious laugh to accompany the wicked smile of Scott Crowe. The memory of the glittering knife blade causes me to grow faint, nearly passing out again.

I slowly begin to lift myself into a sitting position on the floor of the ashy closet that holds the majority of my tortures. My body, covered in blood, and, and dust, aches and shrieks for me to stay still, but I know I have to get home. Hell, I don't even know what time it is, let alone any way I'll be getting home in this condition. A chill rushes through me as I look at the door and see the bloody hand prints scattered around the handle, a struggle for escape. I must have tried to run once, or maybe Scott became too intoxicated to know how to open the damn door. Maybe I should just stay here and sleep it off for a while; nobody even comes down this hall anymore since before the fire.

After what seems like years, I manage to stand unsteadily on my feet, knees weak and heart pounding. I know that when get home, nobody will have missed me, so there's no sense in rushing. Still light-headed, I crack the door an inch, expecting the glaring green eyes of Scott, but I'm only met with darkness and silence, accompanied by the tainted smell of a long passed fire mixed with ash and my own blood. Deciding that the school is closed and everyone is gone, I make do with an unsteady limp through the abandoned hallways of the school. The doors always remain unlocked from the inside, so I lean onto one and fall into the cold, sharp air of the night. I begin to regret coming outside as my cuts begin to sting in the crisp air, freezing the blood onto my skin. And so, I walk home on dark, threatening streets, expecting Scott or some other jock from the school to jump me and end me on the spot.

I make it home unchallenged, greeted by an empty house. Everyone must be in bed, I decide, looking at the clock next to the front door. It is eleven thirty-two at night; I must have been out a long time. As I stumble down the stairs to my room in the basement, I slip on the shiny oak floors, opening the wounds on my back once more to bleed out again. The frightening stumble pierces the silence of the house, and I hear a door slam above me. Ignoring the growing pool of blood at my feet, I rush down the rest of the stairs and throw myself into the basement, locking the door behind me. I'm not ready or fit to battle my brother at the moment, still bleeding out and weak. Fists pound on the door as Joseph screeches for me to let him in. He's upset that I woke him up, and demands I let him in to "teach me a lesson".

"Goddamnit Skylar! Why are you such a disappointment," he yells, furiously fumbling with the handle on the door. "You are gonna get what's coming to you, you freak show!"

I ignore him and push my desk in front of the door, afraid that he is too, intoxicated. He could very well bust the door open if he was angry enough. The effort is almost too much for my body in this state; I have to get to the bathroom and wrap myself up before I pass out again. Good thing there's one connected to my room, because I am not going back upstairs. I always keep first aid supplies in here, for this reason specifically.