My name is Maddie Bell and I am 17 years old. I have long wavy black hair like my mom and bright emerald green eyes like my dad. I live, with my older brother, in Los Angeles. We grow up in New York, but when I was 13 and my brother was 18, our parents were murdered, in our home, right in front of us. I was about to be killed, but Jack, my brother, beat the man to death before he had a chance to even lay a finger on me. Jack is my hero.
The police took me to an orphanage, but my brother fought and fought for the custody of me, until they had no choice to keep us together and let us fend for our selfs .
We were too traumatised to stay in New York, that was why we moved to Los Angeles. I'm in my last year at high school. I should've left by now, but I was struggling a few grades ago, so they kept me behind. I'm has not one of the popular cheerleaders like most girls, I have no friends. I haven't had any since I moved here and even before then I didn't have many, only about 3-4.
My brother works so hard to make sure I have everything I want and need. He's training to be lawyer, and nearly finished his degree. I love Jack, he's my best friend, but there's so much I haven't told him. I don't really express how I feel, maybe that's why I'm depressed. I just feel so guilty that my parents had to die and I didn't. I know that's not Jacks fault, but I would do anything to have them back.
My mom was so beautiful. At school she was the head cheerleader who all the boys chasing her. She was a model for Vogue. My dad was handsome. When he was at school, he was on off those popular guys who had all the girls crushing on him, he was the captain of the basketball team. He owned his own businesses and had loads of sports shops all over the country.
I'm nothing like them. I'm a failure to the Bell family, whereas my brother is the perfect child, he's just like my dad was.
With my brother always studying or working, I tend to spend a lot of time home alone. I don't mind. he always checks up to ask if I've eaten yet, I tell him the usual lie, "yeah, of course I have. Stop worrying!" but of course the truth is that I haven't, and I don't want to. I'm never hungry anyway. I spend most of my time locked away in my bedroom listing to music, mostly Paramore. I just lay in bed crying wishing I had my mom and dad to hold me tight and tell me everything's ok, but that will never happen. The only way I can make myself feel the tiniest bit better is by cutting myself.
I wear lots of band bracelets to cover up cuts and scars, so no one will ever find out. They can never find out.
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No More Pain
RomanceA story about a teenage girl who is depressed and takes it out on herself. Only one person can help her with her issues, but she has to let him in and trust him first.
