Please Be My New Memories | Kellic

Chapter 3 ~ The Canvas

I was hesitant but reluctantly gave over my precious book. Everything about me is inside there and if anyone was to read it I would be judged straight away but it's not like that would be a first. I have an extremely small tattoo on my left arm near my shoulder, I realise completely that I'm not meant to have a tattoo but since when did I follow the rules? Not since I was young, not since I forgot my memories.. The tattoo is one of the many reasons why I get cruelly judged and misunderstood. I unconsciously grasped my necklace and prayed that nothing would happen to my lyrics. I often did that, at points place my hand around and grip my necklace, completely unaware of my actions. I only noticed it a couple months ago when Jaime pointed it out and made it clear to me.

I felt his eyes hovering over my hand as I reached over him to pass my book over to sir. He makes me feel uncomfortable but a part of me has convinced myself that I like it, that I like him but I know I don't as I barely know him. Kellin.

Later that day I walked home alone, still wondering about my lyrics book. I would have to go a whole night without it and I'm not sure how it's even possible to survive that. I reached the front gates of my house and just stood there for a while thinking. Most students wish to go home at the end a school day. Home is meant to be a place where you feel safe and loved and yet. Everyday. I was scared to walk through my front door and face my parents. I didn't know what home was anymore although if I did have to define it I would definitely say that home is the glorious feeling that always washes over me when I'm peacefully listening to music, home is the place that I escape to in those moments. I walked in and tried to greet my dog but as always the lazy mutt just ignored me. Fair enough, I'll ignore him. Stupid poodle. I searched the house and approached my Dad.

"You forgot to wash the dishes last night," he harshly said. Great, the first words that I heard from him when I got back home was that.

"You're not good enough. You're so useless and it disgusts me. Look at the way you dress.Disgusting," He didn't even look at me though but he still felt he had the right to make me feel worthless and good for nothing although it was no different to any other day of my life.

"A person as disgusting and worthless as you who makes your mother and I unhappy doesn't deserve to be happy, does he?" He said and stopped what he was doing as he made his way over to me and I instinctively coward under his intense state of pure hatred. I knew what was coming but I couldn't run, I had no where to run to. He got closer and soon enough I was pushed against a wall and trapped. I closed my eyes and tried my best to prepare myself for the first hit.

By night fall I was alone in the bathroom holding it again but resisted the urge to use it. I had played with it enough and watched the beautiful red paint too many times and I can't have anyone see the lines that I had cut through onto my canvas that were already there which my sleeves covered every day. I put the tool down.