Save Me. (Matthew Espinosa)

Chapter 1 - Troubled

Lacey's POV

I wake up with bruises lining my arms, evidence of my father expressing his anger at me by inflicting dark marks on my skin the night before. Although I hadn't seen Hannah, yesterday was awful. However, I have hope that today will be better.

It's Friday, meaning I will have to drag myself to work tomorrow. I finally limp out of bed to find something to wear. My wardrobe mainly consists of long sleeved shirts to coverup both my scars and any marks my dad leaves.

I strip off my night clothes and slip on a black long sleeve shirt and dark colored skinny jeans. I'm finally making enough money to where I can buy a few new clothing items. It feels nice to have decent clothes instead of my usual old scrubs. Once changed, I make my way to my dresser to brush out my hair and put on some coverup. Even though I'm wearing a long sleeve, I still pad the fine power onto my wrists and forearms as well as my neck and face. Too many scars, not enough makeup. Lastly, I coat my eyelashes in some of the cheap mascara I own.

I take one last look in the mirror, helplessly noting that my bruises can still be seen, before grabbing my bag and running out the door. I don't ever eat breakfast, hardly even lunch considering I pretty much only make enough money for one meal a day, plus utilities and extras. I try my best to earn enough money so that my dad and I can keep our small trailer house. I'm a junior, going into my senior year of high school. It's already May, so summer will be here before I know it. I can even pick up some extra shifts to make some more cash. I can't wait to be able leave this place.

It's a shorter walk to school today, or maybe it just seems that way because I've been in deep thought. As I approach the school yard my day drops from alright, to terrible. Hannah is already walking up to me and I really do not feel like putting up with her this early in the morning. On top of my dad, she really does know how to make someone's life hell.

"Well look who it is, little miss perfect," I smirk. Wait, did I just say that out loud?

"Wow, that is the longest sentence I've ever heard leave your mouth." With the harsh words, her hand makes a forceful collision with my cheek, knocking me to the ground.

I watch numbly as she walks away after looking down at me and smirking, mumbling, "That's what I thought." I decide to save myself from more pain and keep my mouth shut.

I walk to my locker with my head down, as usual but this time, in disgust. I can't believe I actually said that to Hannah. I need to think before I act. After grabbing my things for geometry I turn around to the usual stares. In fact, there are more than usual. It's as though they see me as nothing but a monster. I haven't even done anything wrong, really. Hannah's done far worse to me and all I did was call her a name that's not even that offensive. Just before the bell rings I arrive outside Mr. Montgomery's class. I hury in, avoiding any other contact with Hannah and her friends.

*****

The rest of the day flew by, but it was harder to ignore the extra stares. I try racing out the door extra quick after the bell today, but am stopped, not harshly or by any of the people I would have suspected, but kindly by Mrs. Sanders.

"Is everything going alright at home?" She gets straight to the point. Her features look genuinely concerned as though she's been dwelling on this for a while now. Is she actually worried about me? Surely not.

"Uh, y-yeah. Everything is fine." I stutter out a lie, plastering the biggest smile I can manage on my face. I can end this, I think, but decide against it.

"Okay Lacey. I just hope you know, if there is anything you ever need to get off your chest-"

I cut her off. "I'm. Fine." Before she can come up with a reply, I rush out the door. My attitude really is getting the best of me today. I run to my locker, sloppily throwing my stuff in, and run out the doors of the building. I feel the familiar pit in my stomach as I realize what I have to go home to. The rage my father will have is enough to have me cringing just at the thought. I honestly wouldn't mind never seeing him again. He always has the smell of alcohol on his breath and deliberately hurts me without reasoning. Maybe today I will stand up to him. The thought vanishes as soon as it appeared.

I ran all the way home, not even realizing that I had tears streaming down my face. I burst through the door of my so called 'home' and am relieved to see that my dad isn't home yet. Now I can slip away into my own little world for just a while.

*****

Why can't I be normal? Why am I so unloved? Why do I look like this? What did I do to be treated like this? Self-conscious thoughts crowd into my head. Maybe if I cut just a little deeper I'll hit a vein. Maybe I should just end this worthless, miserable life. Why me? Why this life? I shakily bring the metallic metal to cut another line into the surface of my skin, going deeper as I move down the inside of my arm, bringing crimson colored blood to the surface of my skin. The pain is satisfying, showing that I am not numb. Showing that I can still feel.

I'm brought out of my state when I hear my door swing open. I look up to see my dad. He's the reason for this, all of this. Why I'm bullied and abused, and why I have to hurt myself just to feel something. I'm sick of it.

"Aw look. Poor little Lacey is slitting her wrists again.." he slurs in patronizing tone, as if speaking to an infant.

That's it.

"You're the reason I'm doing this!" I yell, anger coursing through my veins.

"Haha how cute. Lacey's actually standing up for herself for once?" He says dryly, cruelly, stumbling towards me. He's obviously drunk as usual. I stand up, dropping my blade to the floor, and swipe my tears away. I'm just waiting for the right moment.

"I would suggest cleaning that up," he begins, motioning towards the red liquid streaming down my arms and onto the floor. I hadn't even acknowledged it. "but don't even bother. After I'm through with you, it won't just be your wrists you'll be needing to clean up."

"Don't you dare touch me!" I threaten.

"Or what?" he states in amusement. He actually finds this funny. My next action is completely fueled by anger. I don't think about what the consequences as I raise my hand.

Then, I slap my dad across the face. Hard.