The New Me

12

~

I woke up gasping for air. My eyes still burned like hell. Looking around I saw I was in a basement. It was dark, but I could still see. I knew this room. I don't remember where, but I knew this room. I was lying on the cold ground.

"Recognize anything?" A female voice asked.

"Who's there?" I called out.

The sound of nails on a chalkboard filled my ears. Wait a sec. I know that voice.

"It's been a long time Delilah."

"You're back? How?" I asked.

"Back?...Delilah...sweet, sweet Delilah.... I never left."

That last part was whispered straight into my ear. Chills ran down my spine, at the thought of her being here this whole time.

"Remember the fun we use to have?"

I tried to ignore her.

"You can't shut me out Delilah..." She informed. "I'm here to stay...forever."

"No!" I yelled.

I saw a familiar face walk in front of me. Wearing the red stained dark blue tank top, and black jeans, I remembered her in. Holding the long blade in her bloody hands just like she always had. Just like I drew her.

"Daisy..." I mumbled.

"BINGO!"

She stared at me with her dark black eyes. A smile stretched across her bloody face. The messy red and purple hair ran down the sides of her face. She looked like she had just got out of a fight. And not the good, badass kind. More like the sad, pathetic one high school girls got into. You know the ones where they grab each others hair, and throw one another around. Yes, that one. Pathetic. At least throw a punch or two. I mean, come on, SAD!

"Go away." I demanded.

"I can't. We're one, remember?"

"No we aren't."

All the things that happened when I was growing up, was terrible. The only way I found a way out, was to create a friend- one who wouldn't hurt me; who would understand what I went through...One day I drew a girl in my sketchbook...with black eyes, and red and purple hair...and a blood stained blue shirt. Everyday, I would talk to her. Imagining her in my head day after day. She was the only friend I had. No one else would bother with me. I made her backstory, and a personality. Every time I would think of her, I imagined her being there for me. Where my parents weren't. She replaced them, and anyone else who didn't care. I felt my problems going away with every conversation we had. of course I did most of the talking. I didn't care about anyone else anymore. Eventually, my "friend" on paper; my creation started talking back.

I was seven when it happened. I didn't mean to, it just happened. Without warning; without thinking, it just happened.

(Flashback)

I was at school; out for recess. I was sitting on the swing minding my own business, talking to Daisy, when John the school bully walked up to me with his two friends. Daisy was saying how I should make her a friend, when my sketchbook, and pens were knocked out of my hand and onto the wet cement below.

"Hey, freak!" One of the boys behind John yelled.

"What ya doin loser?! Huh?! Another one spoke.

I was so mad.

"You okay?" Daisy asked.

"I'm fine."

"Who are you talking to? Yourself? Weirdo!"