Society.

Chapter 6

Anna's POV

I was having the biggest anxiety attack of my life!!!!

I can't breathe, I can't think, I can't stop shaking. Helpp!?!?!?

And to think, this all started from the tiniest thing.

My mum must of hidden my blades so I used a drawing pin. Not as effective but it works. I start cutting without a stop.

Then that's when I go mad. I hover it around my neck, trying to find the right place to stab myself.

I took my aim and fired. I hit the floor like a rocket, onto my blood stained carpet, struggling to breathe.

If I'm honest with you, death would be much better and less painful than what I'm feeling.

I'm just lying on the floor, struggling to breathe, struggling to talk, just struggling when everything goes black.

~~~

I wake up with someone crowding over me. It's not my mum or sister.

When my vision finally gets stronger, I can see... Jake?! "Where am I?" I screamed in confusion.

"Your at the park." He said slyly.

"But, but I don't want to be at the park, I want to be home." I insisted. He just stared at me. It seemed like we were having a staring competition. He won.

"I WANT TO GO HOME!" I shouted.

"You don't realise, do you?" he asked, chuckling to himself.

Why was he chuckling? what happened? I could feel my head going dizzy.

"I saw your window open so I went in, but you were unconscious. So I took you to the park." He continued.

"I-i," i took a deep breathe and continued. "Why did you come into my house?"

"I was just wondering and came across it. Thought I might sneak up on you while u were slitting your wrists or something so you would 'accidentally' fuck up and kill yourself." He explained.

What the actual fuck? my ex wants me to kill myself? Okay... okay... I'm hyper ventilating here.

I stood up and he just laughed. "Your so stupid!" he giggled.

"Wh..." I was interrupted by Jake, pulling my wrists and kneeing me in my bones. He put his studs against my stomach and pushed all his weight onto it, causing him to jump off me. I yelped in pain as he did this.

As I crouched over my bleeding belly, he slapped me around the face with his hands, giving me a black eye and a reddy-purplish cheek.

I just sat there, crying my eyes out.

"Are you okay?" a middle aged women asked, looking at the fresh blood stains through my white t-shirt.

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm just tired." I said.

I am tired. Tired of being treated like shit all the time. Tired of fake bitches. I'm tired of waiting for an apology when I'm never going to get one. I'm tired of thinking things will be different, but they never change. I'm tired of broken promises. I'm tired of my shitty family for never being there for me. I'm tired of self-centred assholes who only manipulate a situation from their own perspective, not even thinking about how bad they make the victim feel. I'm tired of the same old bullshit again and again. Tired of living.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, still staring at me.

"Sleep." I said, way too quickly. I wish she would just go away now.

~~~

I walked in the house, a note on the table.

I've gone to America for two weeks with your dad and sister. We will miss your birthday, I'm sorry but we will be thinking about you, promise.

They've left me. What have I done wrong? Was Dad right? do I push people away?

Probably.