Okay, guys. Here we go again. The first couple chapters will be the same, except for the date. I'm changing it from May to September. Just so it's an easier time progression with the school year and everything. BUUUUUT others are going to be waaay changed. <3
_____________________________
It is impossible to love me.
And if anyone claims love for me, I will make it impossible for them to live up to those words. I don’t want to be loved. I don’t need love to survive. I’m perfectly capable of going through the motions without someone’s affection. I like being alone. I like blending into the crowd. I like being nobody’s “one and only.”
That’s why the color black fits me well. That’s why I dye my hair a dark color, so no one sees it in all its naturally bleach blonde glory. It’s why I don’t wear makeup, or speak out in class, or have any friends. I prefer it that way. So what if it gets lonely sometimes. I only need the sound of music in my ears to draw me away from the empty cavern that is supposed to hold my heart.
I don’t even believe in love.
It’s not like the events in my life have helped the situation much. I mean; I don’t exactly live in the most loving household. It’s more like a raging warzone the majority of the time.
I do my best to keep Sky safe. My happiness has never been my top priority, and I’m all too sure that I will go through my life pleasing others, no matter the cost to myself, even if it means my life. If it makes someone happy, I’ll die for them. Sky means the world to me. If anything bad ever happened to him… I don’t know what I’d do. He’s my best friend, my little brother, and, frankly, the only thing keeping me alive.
Alive. Oh, what I’d give to understand exactly what that word means again. The only time I feel alive is when the razor blade I’ve come to know so well, slices across my skin. But then again, that’s not really living. It’s only a small triumph. My victory against those who think they can hurt me worse than I can hurt myself. It’s my rebellion, my escape, my way of staying uncaring, unemotional, and untouched by slashing words. And the best part is that nobody knows. Nobody cares. They don’t see the pain behind my eyes, they don’t notice the bright red scars that cover my arms and legs, because they don’t care.
I’d like to keep it that way.
They’re screaming again. What’s new? I swear, we can’t go a day in this household without my stepfather calling one of us out and shattering the tension-filled silence we’ve fought to keep. He is a tyrant; a hateful, overbearing, abusive, tyrant. I don’t know how I’ve survived seven years in this prison.
I cover my head with my pillow and blindly search for my iPod. I don’t want to hear the profanities he is screeching at her, because I run the risk of flying out of my room and decking him. My mother, Jasmine Brightwell-Smith, has achieved bagging, and marrying yet another useless loser. Maybe I should punch her instead…
It is only when I have music blaring in my ears that I remember Sky. It never takes me this long to run down the hall and comfort my brother. I throw my pillow off my face, pull out my earbuds, and tiptoe to my door.
“…stupid hateful bitch. Why can’t you keep your daughter under control?” He yells, as the words send stabs of pain through my whole body. I can hear my mother’s quiet mumble of a voice in reply, which just draws another despicable response from his lips. My mind briefly flicks to the pocketknife under my pillow, the scissors in my drawer, and the stash of razors in my bathroom. No. I force myself to think. Sky; think of Sky.
I stop trying to be quiet, and rip my door open, letting it slam on the wall. His screams lower in level, but I can still hear every word he’s saying to her. She’s crying now. I can hear her shaking voice; it echoes through my head like a reverberating microphone. I stomp down the hallway toward Sky’s room, not caring if they hear me. At least maybe he’ll shut up, and learn to control his outbursts.
