Adopted by Vanossgaming DISCONTINUED

About Me(Person in the Book)

Hi my name is Chelsey and I am 15 years old and live in an orphanage with my "mom" named Martha. This place is just a living Hell I wish my parents weren't, how do I put this. . . . . . gone, there we go. They went missing when I was about 5 they said that they would be back after a trip they went on. They left me with my grandma until they returned.

But after a couple of weeks my grandma started to get worried so she called the police. Since I was so young I didn't know what was going on. People were walking in and out of my grandma's home. I was always pushed out of the room and into the spare one that I slept in. But through the door I could hear questions being asked by the people that came in the house. They asked stuff like if either one of them acted odd before they left and specifically where they were heading and going to look at.

After about a year they stopped coming to the house. I noticed my grandma barely smiled anymore. Especially around me. I tried asking her why the people stopped coming to the house and if they found my parents. She never said anything after that, she would frown and leave the room and I would hear her crying.

I was confused for the next 5 years. Thoughts were running through my head about what happened to them. Maybe they left because I was a terrible child and they couldn't deal with me. Maybe I was to much to handle. Maybe they found a better place to live and couldn't afford to take me with.

I still went to school for the next 1 year. But I didn't do very good..my grades were dropping and I couldn't focus at all. Every time my friends tried talking to me I ended up pushing them away. I talked to my grandmother about it and she took me to see a therapist.

It didn't really help much. This is a random person who doesn't know me at all and yet she wants me to tell my whole life story to her. Why does she deserve to know? She doesn't. I barely told her anything. She really tried to get me to talk believe me she did, but all I would tell her was either yes or no or maybe. Most of the time it wasn't even words. After a little bit she made me take a survey every time I came in. I was honest with it.

She told me that I was depressed. At first I didn't think so and she even showed me the symptoms of it and that I was experiencing too but I still didn't believe it. After some time though I soon came to the realization that I had it.

A letter was sent to the house and it was from the clinic I was going to. It said that since I wasn't talking, they weren't getting any progress with me. They wanted me to come down again to see if I wanted to keep seeing my therapist or go on medication.

I didn't want to see her again so I decided to take the medication. Don't get me wrong she's a good person but I just don't see me talking to her about anything in my life.

Another year went by and I didn't feel anything. The medication was supposed to make me feel better and all it did was just make me numb.

I mean I guess it's better than feeling depressed all the time. If that makes any sense. I don't fucking know anymore.

When I was about 13, I decided to ask my grandma something that I needed to get answered.

"Grandma, where are my parents?"

She then started to cry and said "I guess your old enough, come sit down."

She told me that my parents had both died to a disease when they went on that trip. They had to stay there for a while so that they could be treated. They couldn't fly back due to them being unstable. There was also no way of us getting there due to us not having much money.

I was just dumbfounded I didn't know what to think or say, it just was like I was stuck in time.

The only thing that I could do was cry. So I slid off the couch I was on and just started to cry. My grandma was comforting me and I stayed there for what felt like forever.

After a couple of years my grandma died, I had no one else to look after me, my dad didn't have any siblings and my other aunts on my mom's side couldn't take care of me because they had children of their own so I got stuck in a foster home.

At first I thought it was going to be okay but that was the complete opposite of what I thought. Every thing was just crumbling around me I had no one, most of the kids that stayed there too hated me because I was older then them. Stupid reason right?

My "mom" never liked me from the start because she thought I didn't do any work. I pretty much do all the work around the house, it makes no sense.

Even though I knew I shouldn't have listened to them, the other kids that lived in the home told me to just cut myself and go away for good. I actually considered it if I'm being honest. Since I had to sleep in a room with another kid, when I saw the razor sitting on my bed when I walked in, I was pretty sure it was put there on purpose.

I just cried and I was so frustrated with myself and I just couldn't take it anymore. It wasn't just cause of the other kids pressuring me to do it. I was tired of feeling numb.

Just imagine it, not feeling anything. Not caring about anything anymore. It drives you insane.

I needed to feel something.

I held the blade in three of my fingers and held it against my thigh.

Then a girl came in and said "STOP!"

I looked at her and she didn't look familiar.

"Why everything has been taken away from me and everyone hates me why should I stop?" I questioned her.

She came in front of me and said "Because then I would have nobody."

I was shocked I didn't even know what to say so I just looked at her. She had dirty blond hair and had a black shirt, grey sweat jacket, dark purple skirt, and black leggings. She looked really pretty. I wish I could look as pretty as her.

"Who are you?" I questioned her again.

"I'll tell you everything if you put the razor down." I put the razor down on the bed like she told me to and she started to talk.

"My name is Audrey."