Alone

Ch. 1 : Welcome to the fucked up reality that is my life

"She's only a child Mark!"

My mother was sobbing.

"Are you fucking blind Angela?! The girl's fucking mental!"

I cringed as I heard the words leave my father's mouth. Is that really what he thought of me as? 'Mental'?

"Nova needs proper parenting Mark!" She said as she was choking on her tears. "Which is a hell of an opposite from you!" My mother screamed.

I heard my father slap my mother.

I sat in my room. Under my covers with my ear buds in trying to drown out the cracks in my parent's unholy relationship.

My dad would always fight with my mom, my mom would always start crying and screaming and it all ended with a slap and a hug. If anyone's mental in this house, it would be my parents.

I mean they weren't even married! My mom got knocked up at seventeen, dropped out of high school to raise me, along with my father who was three years older than her, making him twenty when he was dating my mom.

Fast forward fifteen years later, living in my mom's hometown living off my dad's crappy minimum wage job while my mom worked on getting her college degree online.

My name's Nova. And welcome to the fucked up reality that is my life.

I'm fifteen years old, more fucked up than any other teenager. My parents are not exactly guardian angels here.

My dad's only thirty-five, but has more tattoos then I thought people even got.

My mom's the same, except she's become more suburban as I grew up. As you can tell, I'm probably not the kind of girl who grew up with ballet recitals and Brownie meetings.

I was the kid who people made fun of. I was quiet because my father got migraines daily and would yell at me if I got too loud.

Out of all the years of living with my dad, I honestly don't think that he was ready to be a father. I mean, I don't even think he wanted me. Actually I know I was an accident. My ears had heard it a bit too many times as my parents screamed at each other throughout my childhood. I mean when my mom told my dad she was pregnant, he probably asked her to get an abortion right away.

Especially since the fact that she was a minor, under eighteen, when my dad here was twenty.

So I spent most of my school life getting bullied; only having maybe three friends over a span of ten years.

So I grew myself an edge and dyed my hair dark brown. Being a blonde wasn't exactly something I was proud of. Even though my blonde's starting to show again, I don't really care. Black became my favorite color. I got a lip piercing at the age of ten, thanks to my mom.

By the age of twelve, I was officially a freak. I had just started middle school and I was the only one kid who dressed in all black. And I mean, black beanies, black skinny jeans, and band shirts. I stuck out like a sore thumb.

I had DEEP emotional issues. And well, you've seen my parents, so you know why.

When I started middle school, things got worse. I got treated like shit. Made fun of. Called things like 'Freak of Nature' and other shit like that.

My life became a living hell. I attempted suicide at age thirteen. I slashed my wrist with a knife. My mom found me only about five minutes after, passed out on the floor lying in a puddle of my own blood. My mom called an ambulance. I was in rehab for a year.

So I started back in high school at age fourteen and boy did the rumors fly. People started calling me 'suicidal' and...they were scared of me. I asked a girl that I had known for at least three years for directions and when she turned around, she must have jumped ten feet.

I felt like Carrie. I mean my mother wasn't a religious freak like in the movie, and I didn't have supernatural powers. Plus I didn't want to kill the entire school. But...no one wanted to be around me. So I became the girl who kept to herself.

Music, food and Tumblr became my best friends.

Now I'm fifteen and in my sophomore year of high school. But people are still scared of me. I guess they thought if I had the guts to try to kill myself, that I might attempt to kill others.

Stupid, I know. I mean, I'm really honestly not a violent person. I mean, my dad taught me how to fight at the age of four, so I could beat someone's ass if they tried anything physical. But words didn't really bother me.

When I was in rehab, they asked me what made me happy.

"Music." I had said simply.

Mainly in things like lunch and P.E., I listened to music to block out my surroundings. It was my coping mechanism. Music healed me. Any kind of music actually. Even though I preferred anything post-hardcore, rock or hardcore. I'm not picky. Including my favorite band, Pierce the Veil.

My room was a reflection of me. Posters of Kellin Quinn, Ronnie Radke, Vic Fuentes, Gerard Way, Alex Gaskarth, Austin Carlile, Oliver Sykes—you get the idea—covered my black painted walls. I was a very good student though. Excelled in all my classes.

My least favorite class was P.E.

You see, that was where they can get to you. The bullies that is. They can push you around and plus, there's not a bunch of teachers around to stop it, much less care.

You see, when all this "Stop Bullying" crap started, I think my school got left in the dust. Cause it was plain as day here that the kids weren't gonna stop any time soon. And the teachers weren't gonna do anything about it.

It had actually died down since I got back from rehab. With all these kids scared of me and junk.

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Hiii

please vote, comment and message me to tell me if you like my story. and if you don't thats ok. I'm an inexperienced writer and I need advice.

- Stay Beautiful xx.

(BTW, the picture to the side is Abigail Breslin, who plays Nova.)