Twisted

My demons

Jumping out of bed I couldn't beleve what had just occured.  How dare that boy strut into my dream and demollish it right from under me?  It wasn't fair.  Everyone else can find their own means of escaping the horrid excuse for a world, but me.  When I attempt to do such a God forbidden thing someone has to take it away from me.

Tears stroked my face and left salty trails down my checks and ending at my lips.  All the pent up emotions wrecked my emotional walls and I could not contain the sea of oppressed tears tha tI had gathered.  Why couldn't I just have one simple way to escape this torture?  I had gone through more than my share of tragedies.  The bittersweet memories of my dad smiling down on me flashed behind my eyes.  He was my hero, the person that was always there for me when I needed him.  I still remember the one day my first boyfriend broke up with me.  I was beyond devistated and yet my father was there ranting about how he was going to teach that boy a lession and that he would never want to show his face again.  He went on and on until my sides ached from laughing so much.

He was the glue that held my family together.  I still counldn't bring myself to accept that he was gone just like I couldn't beleive the call that I had gotten explaining that my father had shot and killed in a driveby shooting.  He was dead before the ambulence could even get him to the hospital.  After hearing about his death, my mother took up drinking as a new hobby.  When she wasn't going out to clubs, getting intoxicated, and going home with men that she would have despised before she takes out her anger and sadness on me.  I had multiple emotional and physical scars that were in no shape healing.

I blamed the world for being so cruel and taking the people I loved from me.  I blamed the people around me for taking my dad from me.  My hatred caused my friends to one by one slip away from and I was in no shape to try to get them back.  I regret not at least trying.  Most of all I blame myself for not being their for my friends, for letting myself crumble after my dad passed, and for letting my friends disappear.

The self hatred pooled with every tears that I shed.  It created a puddle around me; surrounding me.  The tar like substance clung to my feet and pulled me down farther and farther into my pit of agony.  Images of the grace of pain lacing across my skin and staining my skin red were very welcomed.  I looked down only to see a knife thrusted into my middle.  Glancing up I made out the white as snow skin framed by midnight hair.  Silver eyes watched back at me seemingly emotionless, but there was something deep beneath the walls he had made, sympathy.

As soon as he had come he was gone and replaced with Images of a gun being pointed at me at point blank and watching as the masked shooter pulled back the trigger..  The bullent pierced through my temple and my body fell like a rock to the floor.  I could hear the thump of my body hitting, but I couldn't feel anything.  All I could see was the hatred and anger eating away at my skin.  It blotted out my vision, and all I could do was watch as the ebony substance suffocated me.  My own hatred was killing me, but more importantly who was this guy?  Did he care?

AUTHOR'S NOTE

IMPORANT WARNING: I do not believe that it is EVER ok to self harm and if you are having thoughts like those written I would strongly advise you to tell someone immediately.  This is a story and I do not wanto to hurt anyone or upset them.  I do not think abuse is ok.  I understand how serious of a matter this is and I do not intend to make it out as anything that it is not.  On a brighter note, thanks for all those people reading the story.  I will try to post more, but school is rough.  Bye babies.

-Nikkichic11