~Loved When Gone~

My story

Cold air blows my messy spiked brown hair through the hole where glass to my window used to be. I sat on my bed throwing my yellow down ball at the old wooden wall.

It was one of the only things I could do to keep me entertained through the day, well other than watching the other kids play in the park across the road.

I wished someday I'd be able to play in the park, like a normal kid. But no. My life is filled with loneliness, disappointment and suicidal thoughts.

I'm not allowed to go outside under any circumstances nor am I allowed to speak or play with anyone. Even if they're family...

I tried to fall asleep eventually doing so, drifting off into the horrid thing I know to be a living hell, but what my parents knew to be the failure of my life that was replaying in my mind like a broken CD.

My parents rolled there eyes at my annoying joke desperate for me to be quiet and leave them alone. They hated the fact that I was their son, to the bottom of there hearts. I was ugly, a freak, a monster... But then again it wasn't my fault I was made this way. Was it?

My parents dreamed of having the perfect child. Sadly I wasn't what they had in mind. They wanted a girl, beautiful, smart, talented. But they got the opposite. They got me.

They were ashamed when they took one look at me. So, they locked me away from the world, from them.

They locked me in my room. That is where I did everything or well, nothing for my whole life.

I never when to school, I was never home schooled, so I had to teach myself and honestly I didn't mind sure it was hard, but who doesn't like a good challenge? Right?

Every night the same thing nothing special not even on my birthday just one loaf of bread and some fruit slid under the gap in between the bottom of the creaky old door and cold stone floor.

My parents never gave me anything special or anything at all. They never looked at me or even talked to me. They locked my door with five different locks and put bars on my window trapping me just like as if I was in prison.

I started writing on a piece of paper left on the floor, a note. A suicide note.

It wasn't long but clear enough for them to understand.

I grabbed my dads pistol that I stole when I was left home alone and aimed it at my forehead. Tears flooded down my face like a thunder storm. I closed my eyes, shaking like I was in Antarctica wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and a top. I went to pull the trigger but fell to the ground dropping the gun.

I couldn't do it. I knew if my father saw me he would tell me I was a disgrace, I was week.

Shooting myself was too hard, so I grabbed my pocket knife and slowly but carefully cutting my wrist wincing in pain as I watched the blood run down my arm.