My Bloody Truth pt. 1

New York, new hell

I moved back to New York!

"Daddy!!!!! I missed you so much!"

I hugged my dad so tightly. I finally got what I wanted, to move back.

I would start living in his small apartment of one bedroom but I didn't mind where I was gonna live. I had come back to the place I knew. I was going to start in the same school I had gone to before with all of my old so called "friends" and my teachers. For the first while it was a serious piece of cake! 6th grade boom, done!

While that happened my dad bought a house so I had my own room. I loved it, it was any girl's dream! All pink and filled with toys and makeup. I was finally happy for a little while!

That summer I visited my mother after a year of not seeing her. Let's just say it didn't for well. We fought a lot because we still were turned against each other on the matter of who was to blame for the ordeal that had happened 3 years beforehand. I returned home defeated, I expected to have a fun time but all it did was make me miserable.

When I came back my stepmother had moved in with us. I thought that I'd finally have a motherly figure to help me, boy was I wrong. The first while it was fine. I was starting 7th grade now at a new school. Many of my "friends" from my previous school were going to School Of The Arts with me too. They gave that school such a good reputation, who would've known it would be such a shit hole for me to rot in.  

That year everything started. My stepmother started trying to change everything about me and the way we lived our day to day lives. For Christmas that year we went to my aunts house in Florida. I didn't have to good of a time. My stepmother started a whole shit show about how I didn't do anything right and about how I was fat and I wouldn't do anything useful. The second that happened my issues with eating begun. And depression covered me from head to toe. As we were driving back home my stepmother started fighting with my father about how I acted like usual, my mistake was adding a comment into the conversation.

"You're daughter isn't raised properly, she doesn't know how to do anything right!"

"If you don't like it that pack your shit and leave"

"What the fuck did you say to me you ungrateful brat!?"

After that our lives were not very peaceful. I went through a time where I had no idea who I was and I was trying to figure myself out. I was struggling to know what my sexuality was and I had no idea who I was. My parents didn't help much either. They were completely against anything that wasn't straight.

One night my parents were talking in their room. They started getting louder and louder. So loud I could clearly hear what they were taking about... me. I always seemed to be the trouble topic. A while later after a few screams back and forth I heard a bunch of stuff hit the ground along with glass shattering. To this day I don't know exactly how it happened but I imagine my father just pushed everything off their vanity in anger. He stormed out of the house and drove away. I stayed up all night not knowing where he had gone. The next day I left for school, huge bags under my eyes, face puffed up from crying, but always with that fake smile on my face. I would never let anyone know what was going on. I went about my day holding in my tears and pretending I was fine. Making jokes that I had to force out of my throat. Saying funny things I didn't mean. Pushing a smile through my lips so no one would ask questions about those marks on my wrist. The first time I cut, but never the last.

Instead of taking the bus like usual I was picked up by my father. The first comment out of his mouth was,
"She's leaving, and remember what I said. The second she leaves you leave too."

My eyes gave in from holding back a waterfall and tears flooded my face. I didn't say a word and I didn't dare make a sound. I ran up to my room and fell to the floor giving up on all I was carrying on my shoulders. I grabbed a razor as my only way out and slashed my wrist over and over again only thinking of how maybe the pain would fade a little if I kept going. I could hear me father crying because she would leave and her trying to comfort him.