Halley's Comet

Chapter One: Moving

It all started when I was ten. The bullying, I mean. The only thing that kept me going was music. I got abused by my dad at home, so did my mom. When I was ten, I started cutting. I didn’t mean to, I just DID, ya know. It’s just one of those things. See, this is what happened; I was having a huge fight with my best (and only) friend and was being bullied. My dad was just starting to beat me. I was crying and ran inside the girl’s bathroom. I pulled out a pencil sharpener from my backpack. It was during recess. I did not know what it was back then; I did not know it could be this addicting. I pulled the shining, cold metal against my skin, it stung like bloody Hell, but I could only think of the pain. I seized my arm and stared at what I just did. The blood started rising from the small slit, little beads of blood turned into a little stream. Just tiny, didn’t even go onto the floor. I did it again. And again. It was my high, it was my release, it was a way to get out of my life, it was the way I could finally feel SOMETHING. I didn’t feel empty; I felt pain. It was a way to feel more then numb. And I liked it. It may sound sickening, but I liked the look of blood, I liked the pain that I caused; the tension it released, if only temporarily. A few weeks later, I made a new friend. Her name was Tracy. We were friend’s for a few weeks and she was so nice, she stood up for me to the bullies and helped me. Once, she saw the cuts. She asked what happened and I told her about that night. Sadly, she told everyone and BECAME a bully to me. I was devastated. They called me ‘emo’, ‘freak’, ‘slasher’ and other names. I felt broken. A few years passed, I was thirteen and fell for a boy named Ash. He was nice, cute, and fearless, he was a badass, and he was funny. He was all I ever wanted. He smoked weed all the time. He introduced me to it. He taught me to smoke a bong. I loved the high after that. But he left me, said he could not deal with my problems, said I was a freak right after I told him about my cutting. We were together a year. Now I am fifteen. And I am moving. I’m not sure where I’m going. I gave up on singing, I never sang in front of anybody. I taught myself how to play guitar. Music was my escape. My Chemical Romance, Terror, Sleeping With Sirens, Black Veil Brides, Pierce The Veil, Asking Alexandria, Shinedown, Flyleaf, etc. I love bands like that. All their music… I feel I can relate to it. I have kept cutting… it’s an escape. Our new house is in a small town, we have a small-ish house. It is okay. I have to ride a bus to my new school. I don't want to go to my new school, I don't want to be made fun of. Why do I have to? Why am I being forced to? These questions will never be answered, I suppose. I stare out my window as the bus leaves the bus stop. I am always the first stop of the day. I think about everything that has happened, staring at the passing houses. I am the only one who gets picked up here cuz all the other kids parents drive them.

"What's your name, kid?" Asks the bus driver. He's a burly man, with a large beard and blue eyes.

"Halley, and you are...?" I ask.

"Rodrick." He says. He goes on talking about his children and wife as I zone out, looking out the window. As other kids get on he stops talking. Everyone stays away from me. I'm the new "freak" kid, I presume. They look at me and whisper then laugh amongst each other. I ignore them. I hate humans. Why do they exsist? I'd rather be a dolphin. Or a floor. Floors seem to have easy lives. They just sit there, or lie or whatever, minding there own business. Sure, they get spat on or walked on but that's about it. It would be easy being a floor.