Terrible things: l.h

1

Storm's POV

"How does that make you feel, Storm?" I mentally groaned, tired of the endless, probing questions i was being asked. "Shitty. It makes me feel fucking shitty, and you know what else Dr. Andrews? Being looked at and talked to like I'm retarded."

"Storm!" My mother scolded. I shrugged it off. It was true. This was the fourth therapist I'd seen in the last two months and just like the others, she sucked. 

"Mrs. Hunt it's quite alright", Dr. Andrew's assured my mother before tunring her attention back to me. "Storm, you're angry and that's quite understandable-" "Than what's the issue?" I asked waiting for her to get to the point. "Anger can be associated with the case of severe depression you suffer from, but bottling it up like you do won't solve anything! You need to-" 

I zoned out. I wasn't hearing the same thing I've been hearing these last eight weeks. 

Sooner or later the session ended and I bolted up from the old chair I'd sat in for the last two weeks. 

"Storm you cannot keep doing this", my mother pleaded. I sighed, turning to face her in the driver seat. "I'm sorry mom, really I am. I am trying though"

She sighed "Honey I understand you're trying. It's not your fault that you have this." She went into yet another speach about living with depression and coping skills and whatnot. 

The car pulled into our driveway, announcing our arrival. I got out and headed up to my room. My long ringlet curls blinding my vision a bit as I assended the staircase. "Storm we need to talk", I heard my father's voice call. 

Sighing yet again I climbed down the stairs. I made a seat on the counter, recieving a playful glare from my mother as she entered the house. They each took a seat in front at the table, staring at me intently. I admired my parents. The way my mother's dark complection and my father's compartive pale one resulted in myself. My daze was cut short as my father began to talk again. 

"Your mother and I have been thinking a lot about what we can do for you to help you in this... Dark hour that you've been stuck in. Let's be honest Stormy, you're not happy here. Let alone happy to begin with."

I opened my mouth to argue, but fell short. He was right. "Continue", I urged.

"Well your Aunt Nina has been a bit concerned, as have your mother and I" A slight smile spread across my lips as I thought of Aunt Nina. I rarely saw her because she lives in Australia. 

"Storm we think it's best if you go and live with your aunt for a while." 

My jaw dropped. I couldn't speak, but my mother did. "This is going to be good for you honey, we promise. You leave Saturday."

"Ummmm I think I'm gonna go for a walk. I need some time to process this." I said, grabbing my jacket off of the coat rack. "Don't stay out to late, Storm you need to start packing tonight." I heard my mother call as I headed out the door. 

I plugged my headphones in as I walked past the busy streets I'd called home. The soft voice of my newly favorite band flowed smoothly through my ears. I'd discovered them on YouTube a few months ago and I had been addicted ever since. They weren't a huge mainstream band. I think that's why I was so drawn to them. Their name was 5 seconds of summer, and as far as I knew, I was the only one in my area who even knew who they were.

No doubt I'd get picked on even more if the kids at my school found out. I already get teased and taunted enough. 

I made my way to my favorite place the city had to offer, Central Park. I sort of had a secret hideout there. It was a just off a trail in the back of the park near a small bridge. I go there almost every day to escape and think. 

How could my parents just give up and me and pass me off like this? I really couldn't blame them. With the 4 suicide attempts in the last six months, isolating myself, and of course the befriending of the blade. 

It's been about three years now. I started when I was fourteen. Seventeen now and it's been a week since my last relapse. I'd be lying if i said that I didn't miss the crimson liquid flowing down my arm, but I'm quitting for my parents. At least attempting to quit.

I sat in the park for hours, Gotta get out on repeat. Clicking my phone on the reveal it was almost 9:30, I decided to head home. 

I pulled my jacket tighter around my chilled body. The cold night air catching up with me.

"Hey Stormy", I heard the familliar voice call. Keep your head down and keep walking. He'll go away eventually. I told myself.

Out of all people I had to run into it had to be him. 

"Hey bitch, I'm talking to you!"

I quickened my pace, but it wasn't fast enough. I felt a fistful of my hair being pulled. I grabbed at his hand begging for his release. 

"What do you want Ty?"I spoke with caution as he let go of my hair. "When I'm talking to you, you listen okay Stormy? Where's the Oreo headed now. Home to the cookie and the cream?" I cringed at my newly given nickname. It's not the 60's anymore why is shade still being thrown at interracial families. 

I could sometimes laugh about being bullied for being a mixed heritage because Ty was the only person who found it amusing.

"None of your business asswipe. Don't you have anything better to do then stalk me more than you already do? I mean honestly you've followed me home everyday this last week."

He chuckled at that obviously taken back at my raised voice, as I was myself. 

I instantly felt his hand connect with my cheek. I was acoustumed to the pain by now.

"Watch your mouth bitch." He said as he walked away.

I could already tell my cheek was red by te time I got home.

I recived too many pityful glances from my family. They didn't even have to ask.

I was beond ready to get the hell out of here.