The Beauty That I'm Fakin' - Co-written With bodysnatchers4ever (Lindsey Way)

1.

Hey! It's @bodysnatchers4ever here! I'm so excited for this book! Sorry if this chapters boring though c;

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I grab my sketch pad from it's place on my dusty black desk and start sketching. This is the only thing that keeps me sane. Art and music. I place a mixed cd in my player and relax, letting my hand guide the pencil where ever my mind tells it to go.

I listen to the light tap and scratch of the pencil as I draw a bridge, towering over a girl.

The bridge is tall, a big gap above her head as she runs. She runs away from the hell hole she calls a home. The sketchy mess of a mop of black hair flowing in the wind and her scared arms flying out behind her in a running motion.

The scars of self inflicted pain.

Pain that felt so desirably wrong. Pain that felt so good even though she new it was forbidden. Scars of self inflicted pain that she was made to make by the harsh pain that's called reality, 'family', 'friends'.

She runs away from the abuse and the names. The stereotype of Emo or whore because of what she wears when all she is really trying to do is be herself. I sketch some leafs and moss growing up the side of the bridge.

I hold it at arm length an decide it needs more shading and volume in the hair. Apart from that im pretty proud of it. I finish up her hair and fold my sketch book closed, placing it back on my bedside table and unplugging my stereo.

I crawl into my warm bed after removing my clothes and bandages that lay around my wrists. I sniff the comforting sent of bold washing powder. I am about to plug in my head phones when I hear a faint shout from downstairs. I grab my dressing gown throwing it around my cold, pale body making sure it covers my scars I regret making three days ago. As I make my way down the stairs to a calling mother.

"Finally Lindsey! I have been calling you for forever! What took you so long!?" She hisses at me and looks me up and down disapprovingly. "Why the hell are you in your pyjamas, asswipe? "

"I was going to bed." I say looking her right in the eyes. I pretend not to be scared of her when deep down I don't know what she could be capable of. "I was in bed, nearly asleep," "Without dinner!?" She screeches. "Your trying to skip dinner weren't you? You little slut!" "Mom I dont see how that makes me a slut!" I shout back. I dont care what she will do to me anymore, I'm  sick of it. why does she call me things like that, does she even know what that means? "Because you are starving yourself, EVEN IF YOU GET SKINNY BOYS WON'T WANT YOU! Boys will never want you! Your an emo, change what you fucking look like and then maybe boys will want to fuck you!!!"

I can't believe my mother just said that. Of all the people, my mom! That's something some teenager would say to me at school. She really sinks that low. I look at her with my jaw dropped. If it opens anymore it would hit the floor and break. "Im. Not. Starving. Myself." I say gradually getting louder and I run to my room stumbling up the stairs and grazing my nee on the carpet causing blood to gather at the top of bairly there cut.

I run up to my room and slam the door closed, locking it and fall down, head against my knee. Crying. I press play on my ipod and blast some White Stripes not caring if I can't hear anyway. Who will I have to listen to. Well, who would have anything nice to say to me, my mom apologising? Cat chance. More like a slap 'round the face for 'answering her back'. If I was death the only thing I would miss is music.

So maybe if I died I wouldn't miss the music? Well duh. But it's the music that saves me. It tells me there's something to live for,someone out there for me.

But what if there's not? Because what if im the fat, emo, wannabe whore who every one hates where ever I go? Maybe I could run away. I could be the girl in my drawing. Running away from life, running to freedom, running to somewhere that people might except me.

Haha no.

Maybe to somewhere with no people at all, somewhere I could be alone. All by myself, no names, no harm, no pain.

Just me, my art and my music.

That's where I wanna go. I wanna run away. I want to live, without the constant nagging of my mom and dad. Fuck my dad. My mum works day, my dad night, so there's no chance in me escaping. I'll find away, i'll plan it. Gather some money-even if I have to steal it from my parents, I will never have to see them again anyway, i'll pack my sketch pad, my ipod, clothes, some money and a shit load of food and I will escape. I will do it. But not yet. I'm not ready yet.

I climb into bed with my dressing gown on and cuddle into my detergent smelling sheets and fall asleep to Pencey Prep's Yesterday, which pretty ironically is about running away.

Can't keep running away, Can't keep running away, Can't keep feeling the same, I can't keep taking the blame, Can't keep running away Because it feels like yesterday.

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Omg thank you so mich for reading this-so my chapters will be about this length and i know PP wasnt out when lyn-z was this young but i love them and it just fit:3 Jade:)