I can't change who I am...and I don't want to.

Chapter 9 - Time goes by when you're having fun...

His whole life he’s been an artist.

But a blades been his brush,

And his canvas is his wrist.

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As the cool water fell onto my body. I relaxed and soothed myself in the small shower. Sure it was only just big enough to fit the shower in let alone a human, but right now all I want is to wash away the thoughts of my dad. He’s a killer. It’s hard to believe that I looked up to him, for practically seventeen years. Not to mention it’s my birthday tomorrow. I doubt anyone will care. My mother and my father where the only ones to give me gifts really, except for my physiatrist who would give me a small card saying some crap along the lines of ‘Well done! You have still survived your suicide attempts!’ Just in a much more nicer way.

But they are all gone from my life now.

My mother and physiatrist dead, life taken from them.

And my dad has decided to play cluedo.

Life just keeps getting better and better. Also my mixed feelings between Darren and Cole aren’t really helping in this giant life change.

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When I had gotten out of the shower and small bathroom, I found my way back into Coles room where I had been sleeping for the past couple of days. Cole had ended up taking the sofa as his bed. Even though I specifically told him not to, and that he should sleep in his own bed. But I can’t help but love Coles bed. When I crawl into it late at night, it’s smells of his body and it always calms me down and keeps the nightmares away. I can’t really remember having nightmares much when I sleep. They mostly came when I was up and awake. Yet for some reason my nightmares always include Darren as a child. Maybe they are dreams? But I always end up crying somehow... I guess I’ll never know.

“Cole!” I had been calling him numerous, times. Finally he entered the room, carrying a huge bag.

“What’s wrong?! Darren is here, he could’ve helped you?”

“Oh yeah...” The truth was, I hadn’t wanted to wake up Darren. He’s been crying himself to sleep a lot recently because he thinks that all of my Dads killings are his fault. I try to comfort him but he never lets me. Deserving his sleep. That’s what he needs.

“Well anyway what do you want?”

“I can’t keep wearing the same clothes again and again! It feels dirty even though you’ve washed them” I waved my clothes in the air at him. He chuckled.

“Perfect timing then, Mai has given you some of her clothes to wear. They are in the bag” Making my way over to the bag I unzipped it revealing very dark coloured clothing.

“Uhh these aren’t really what I would wear...but it’s better then nothing.”

“Look Erika, I’d rather you stay here and wear those clothes which will look great on you anyway. Then go back to your house to your lunatic of a dad and risk dying just to get some of your own clothes. No thanks. So just come down stairs once you’re changed OK?”

Sighing I apologised for my ridiculous whining and got changed into a Black band T-shirt, black skinny jeans and leather boots. My fingers fumbled at the laces but I eventually had finished tying them up.

As I stared into the crooked mirror, my appearance looked hardly recognisable. My hair had grown a couple of inches over the weeks causing it to flow just above my belly button in delicate waves. It’s brown glossy shine reflecting off of the light through the windows. The clothes were so dark they made my eyes burst with colour, unlike their usual dull, faithless colours.