As I lay in the raggedy room that I have known for most of my life, I thought about how it would feel if I killed myself tonight. I wondered if my family would miss me. I wondered if my friends that I haven't talked to in weeks would. I wondered if killing myself tonight would free me from the pain that hurt me everyday.
The thought of taking the razor, now starting to turn a maroon color from all the times it's gotten a taste of my blood, and running across my scarred forearm. But, for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to do it. I've had a streak of two weeks, and didn't want to break that accomplishment.
I turned onto my back, my spine popping in the process leaving my back feel better that it had the past few nights. I pulled myself up to a position where my back was arched and tried to take a look at the digital alarm clock that glowed a dark, red color in the darkness of my room. It sat, like usual, on my half painted nights stand that stood next to my mattress. The rigid letters read 1:45 A.M. He would come soon.
I pulled the covers up to my neck for warmth. I remember when I thought they would protect me from him, but that hypothesis was soon proved wrong as he ripped them off of me in the middle of the night and muffled my screams with his large, strong hands.
I tossed and turned in my twin size bed and hugged my pillow. I imagined it to be someone who would protect me, maybe I pretended it to be that neighbor boy who was about 16, my age.
I would watch him every morning from my window. I would watch him on his way to school and back, and I knew that his mother abused him. One day, as I was watching the cars go past my house, I heard screaming echoing from his house and heard a door slam. He walked out of the house with tears streaming down his cheeks, and a bruise already forming on his jaw line. He sat down on the steps leading to his front door and pulled his legs up to his chest. I wanted to go help him, and maybe in return, he could help me, but I knew that was impossible as soon as the thought came into my mind. My step father wouldn't let me go anywhere anymore, and sometimes, I couldn't even leave my bed.
I would go to school with the boy, if I was still going. About three months ago, my step-father came up with the wretched idea of home-schooling me. The torture used to only happen at night, but now, it happend twice, or even three ties a day depending on his mood.
As I clutched my pillow, I saw the hallway light turn on and heard the errie sound of foot steps closing in on my room. My door opened and I was blinded by the light. He then quickly closed my door.
He said nothing but I could hear the sound of him un-doing his bealt buckle followed by the rough breathing escaping his mouth.
"Please, don't," I pleaded, but I knew he wouldn't listen to me.
No responce.
"Just let me sleep,'" I begged, tears starting to dot my eyes. Then, my blankets started to slide off of me slowly at first, then in one fluid motion, exposing my helpless body to the chilled air that made my skin scream.
As he climbed on top of me, I tried to shield my body, but it became no use. he flipped me on my stomach and pinned my hands to my back. As he started to slide off my shorts I whimpered.
I scolded myself for not killing myself earlier, for the pain about to come is much worse than a quick slice of my razor.
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So yeah, first chapter of Kill my Pain
If you guys have input please tell me because I really like the concept of this story, but not sure if I need something more..
So yeah, if you guys like it do the stuff that you guys do, because I'm still not sure how entireky how to work this yet xD
~Lauranie
