Music blared in my ear and my veins ached, in a good way. My eyes were set in a longing stare out the window, looking out into the stormy night. Watching the rain pelt the windows with such a force from the wind gave me a thrill; actually it made me happy, more than the sun ever did. Darkness was calming, it was my true and only friend; I took refuge in it. There was just something about the darkness that made everything seem better. In the dark lines blurred and things I didn't want to accept, or face, faded away into deep shadows waiting until light came and shone upon them once more. With night came a stillness and quietness that I could never get in the fast paced living every human being had to succumb to. I was truly a nocturnal creature made to walk among the light lovers. (I guess something inside me was wrong, my genetic make-up gone wrong). Under the black cover of night I could be myself knowing no one could see me just the way I liked it. The moonlight was my only observer and only by moonlight did I feel free. This was my nightly ritual: metal upon skin releasing all of the day's pains, lies, and discomfort. Music, that gave me the false security that I belonged somewhere, poured into my ears, and lastly staring out the window into a dark calming night.
Just down the hall, in a master bedroom, my mother slept soundly oblivious to the fact that I had scars clearing on my arms. Not that she had a reason to think that I actually afflicted pain on myself to feel anything at all, to feel alive. I put up a good front for her, she deserved it. This time was my time, though, the only moments I could feel close to content. It was when the sun was out that I had to put on an act and plaster on a well perfected fake smile to make her, and everyone else, think that everything was perfect. Darkness is and will always be the main component of my life.
I sighed as I looked at the clock, 2:30 am, not much time left of my own. Soon I would be back in the jail―high school― conducting the tiring routine of listening to the gossip and snide comments that my "friends" said. I never joined in, though those petty things didn't matter to me. It's not like I paid attention to any of it anyways, why would I, it never concerned me it was like I was invisible to them all. Every single student at that wretched place mattered nothing to me and I mattered nothing to them; I was merely a faceless blob that walked the halls. High School, that word made me cringe. The only purpose for it is to torture the average teenager and kill the only ounce of self-esteem that they might have had left from Jr. High. I was the outsider on the inside, some say. All I know that it's me against the world. I was like some sad ghost searching for something to give it meaning, to give it life again.
Crash! I woke with a start my iPod falling to the ground with a lifeless thud. "What the hell?" I mumble under my breath, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. Throwing the sheets off my body, cold air rushing over me, a shiver runs up my spine. I stumble my way to the kitchen, walking through my house in a blur. "Mom what happen?"
"It's nothing," my mom said trying to hold back tears. Broken pieces of our finest china surround her bare feet. She looked a mess: her face all blotchy and her eyes blood shot, high signs she had been crying this whole morning.
"Mom?" I questioned a little softer. What could have happened? It made no sense just yesterday my mother had went to bed so happy, like a little school girl experiencing her first love. I took a few carful steps closer hoping to consol her. She looked at me as if she was watching me die right in front of her eyes. Could she see the scars on my arms? Self-consciously I pulled at my sleeves; they were already pulled down as far as they could. No, I was still safe. My thoughts were running wild in my now wide awake brain. "Mom?" I watched her carefully. What the hell was wrong? It bugged me not knowing what caused my mother pain, I was her protector, keeping her safe and happy was my only goal.
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Behind Closed Doors
Teen FictionHow do you cope? When your parents are divorced and there is nothing you can do about it. When your father is the enemy and your mother is a drunk. How do you live and breathe when every breath hurts? How do you cope with the life you are leading? ...