Unseen | ✔

1 | BLACK

"When the purpose is unknown, abuse is inevitable."–Myles Munroe

[1]

WHAT IS LIFE?

We all live in novels. People take things too seriously. We believe that failing once will result in us losing at life. We worry if the person we've had a crush on all this time will ever replicate our feelings. We ask ourselves why we're not pretty enough when it's not us that's ugly, but the people that make us feel that way.

Our world is woven with madness and distress, it's never calm.

I know this because I see a lot of things. My life isn't as perfect as it's been drawn out to be.

I'm not allowed to wear any short sleeved tops and any pants that expose my legs. I'm not allowed to have any friends. I have to cook and clean every day. No talking unless spoken to.

Why all this?

Because I have been abused for the past ten years of my life. Ever since my parents died.

Ugly. Smelly. Anorexic. An embarrassment.

The cold silver of the blade shines brightly in this very dim bathroom. The cold metal is pressing against the precious skin of my forearm. I shake in pain and clench my teeth together to stop myself from screaming.

They say I am a mistake.

My blood drips on the cold white tiles.

Red. The colour only has grown to show pain. I have not felt anything in a long time. I want to feel something.

Anything. No one understands.

Around me is silence. Another thing to hate.

Everything is slowly becoming blurry. The objects I have become very familiar with start to swirl before finally, I curl into a ball and close my eyes, tears streaming down my face.

Black. It always ends in black. Everything ends in black.

-

"Get the fuck out of there, Isabelle!" The handle shakes violently against the door.

Calm. Breathe. In and out.

My hand rises reluctantly up to the handle. Suddenly the banging stops. It is as if he knows I'm going to listen. I always do though. He is never wrong. The door opens revealing the towering figure on the other side.

I don't like saying their names.

He grabs hold of my upper arm and pulls me harshly. I wince in pain at the sudden contact. His face contorts into a sickly smile in a way that disgusts me, right down to the core. It stays like this for the rest of the beating.

A sharp slap across my cheek awakens me from my thoughts. I am nothing but a rag doll. My face is stone, emotionless because I no longer know how to smile.

He pushes me away harshly before walking off, but not before saying, "get ready for school."

I limp quietly back to my room. Waking the other monsters will only lead to more trouble.

Opening up my very empty wardrobe, I pull out my black hoodie. Warmth surrounds me as I sigh in contentment and walk over to the mirror. I hate looking at myself. I'm fucked up. Mentally and physically.

I open my eyes, my eyes connecting with themselves and I take in my appearance. My usual blue eyes are dull, hardly any sign of life in them. I no longer pray for this to stop. I lost all hope when David hit me. I had faith in him to end it all. But, Gary got to him too.