Mystery Girl

Prologue

★ Prologue ★

Pain. Loneliness. Grief. Worthless. Broken.

Every day when I awake, and every night when I'm about to sleep, that's how I feel. Lost in my own mind, tortured by the many voices in my head, drowning in my own tears I hid so the world wouldn't see.

I tried faking a smile, forcing a laugh but you can't force yourself to be happy when deep down you feel nothing but pain.

Pain. Caused by the people you trusted but ends up stabbing you in the back, the people that misunderstand me and doesn't even know you and what's going on in your life, but wants to criticize you and kick you down just for the fun of it. Making you feel alone.

Loneliness. The feeling I got when I lost my best friend July, and my dearest mother. The feeling I got when I realize there was no one I can turn to in need for help. All I could have done was grieve.

I felt so worthless. Worthless because I couldn't do anything to stop all of these terrible emotions that always kept me with vivid thoughts.

My mom died two years ago on my thirteenth birthday. I had felt as if my world came crashing down on me when my dad and I got the news.

She was on her way home from buying a present for my birthday when she got into a car crash. A truck driver had lost control of the vehicle and smashed into her car killing her instantly.
Lucky for the truck driver though cause he made it out alive with a few minor injuries.

Ever since then my relationship with my father went downhill.

He wasn't the same after her death. He started drinking a lot and barely talked to me. His sobs kept me up late at night. I was lucky he didn't abuse me, but I would be a lot happier to have my loving father back.

I always blamed myself for my mother's death. If it wasn't for my stupid birthday then she would have still be alive.

When my mom died July was there for me. She was...there for me.

A couple of weeks after, she died. No. She was murdered. Right in front of me.

We were held at gunpoint. The image of my best friend on the ground with blood leaking out of her head still haunts me. She was shot in the head for hesitating to give her belongings to a gang. I heard screaming. Loud piercing screaming. It was until someone pulled me to them had I realized that the scream was coming from me.

The police came and I was taken to questioning but soon realized that I wasn't stable.

I couldn't handle it. Why didn't they kill me? I was a witness to the murder. They should have killed me too!

They eventually found the murderer and he was imprisoned.

I've changed a lot since then. I'm not that happy cherry girl with the beaming smile, sparkling eyes and great attitude anymore. It's like I've lost all sense of humor, my senses going numb.

I stopped caring about people and myself. I didn't care about my appearance and let my hair and side bang grow long so that I covered my green eyes that held so much misery, trying to show the world they didn't get to me but in reality.....I felt broken.

There was only one way I could have gotten away from it all even though it was temporary.

Cutting.

When I traced the sharp object on my tender skin, it seems to stop the pain I'm facing with a new pain. It's weird that the new pain is comforting but it is, it sorts of distract me from my problems.

The many lines scattered on my wrists seems to be my only comfort. Of course I had to hide them from prying eyes so I wore long sleeves or bracelets. I didn't want my dad seeing them, even though I'm sure he wouldn't care.

Then again...who would?