This is Where my Demons Lie

Chapter 3

Chapter 3: It's art
Reverie Lark
"Where have you been," Jonathan demanded the moment I stepped into the house.
"Hi to you too. Although I can't expect an actual greeting," I snorted and made my way upstairs.
"Where have you been," Jonathan repeated.
"Dear gosh, why do you care? You've never given a damn about me before, so what are you playing at? Why would you even fucking care," I growled, slamming the door to my bedroom.
"I'm your father!"
"Fuck off, Jonathan!"
I locked my door and hid my face in a pillow on my bed. Gosh, I hated this place. Hated these people. Hated myself.
Worthless, waste of space, freak, burden, problem-
"You want me to do it so badly, fine, I will," I said loudly to an empty room. I locked the bathroom door and pulled open a drawer. Inside was a knife. Small and sharp.
  I sat in the tub and took my hoodie off. Scars and cuts and burns and pictures covered the bronzed flesh. I dipped the knife into my skin, taking a shaky breath before carving. It hurt, yes, but I wouldn't feel the stinging pain until later. I stared at the bloody demon I drew. My arms and legs were scarred with similar drawings.
"Ah," I gasped, feeling the pain now. Calmly, I rinsed my arm under the water and left the bathroom after cleaning and hiding the knife.
  I sat on my bed and stared at the cut, watching it scab over. Soon enough it would become another scar.
"Get your ass to the dinner table," Marie screamed through the door.
"Fuck off, Marie! I'm not going to dinner," I yelled back, sliding my hoodie on.
"Are you high," she screeched.
"Why is that always the question? I'm not always high, dear gosh! Get your own ass to the dinner table," I shouted, opening my window.
  I didn't wait for her response. Instead, I grabbed onto the oak's branch and jumped to the ground. I pulled my hood up and strolled down the sidewalk, away from that hellhole.
  Sitting on a bench in a park not far from home, smoke filled the air. I breathed in the smell before blowing out again. It was dark and the stars pranced around the moon.
"Hey, there's the freak," a familiar voice called. Great, it was that Leslie boy again. And his friend, Diego, was there too.
"Hey, I'm talking to you," Diego was in my face, glaring. I rolled my eyes and blew smoke at him.
"Fuck off," I said, lighting another cigarette.
"Freak," he muttered, hitting my joint out of my hand.
   Anger raced through my body. Anger from my poor excuse of parents, from my dumb sister, from every person at school. And of course, anger toward these two dicks.
  I punched Diego's nose and kicked him in the balls. He doubled over, clutching his most likely broken nose.
"Fuck off," I snarled. This time, they left.
  I disposed the joints in their proper place. Considering going back to hell, I frowned. It wouldn't matter that I was gone. In fact, me being gone equals a peaceful dinner. Cause I fuck up everything. After hours in the park, I headed home at twelve am. I grabbed a piece of bread on my way to my room. Jonathan and Tammie were still up and watched me as I left.
  I lay in bed, gazing at the stars on my ceiling. Some hung from it, some were stuck to it, but all of them glowed. Stars were beautiful. Unique, different, yet still accepted. They were loved, they were the definition of beautiful. I wanted to be a star. I longed to know what it was like to be loved and accepted.
"We have school," I woke to the wondrous sound of Marie screaming at me.
"Piss off," I said, dressing myself in a random shirt and jeans. My jeans had stars and flowers and other beautiful things scribbled all over them.
"Tammie, where's my hoodie," I shouted, opening the door.
"In the washing machine, dear," she yelled back.
"Dammit," I swore. I owned one hoodie and one only. And, because I hated long sleeved shirts, I always wore it. Even in summer. Now, I would have to go without it.
"Freak," Marie muttered when she saw the scars and pictures littered across my arms.
"Fuck you," I hissed, slinging my bag over my shoulder and leaving the house.
  I decided to walk today. Unfortunately, Marie joined me.
"Hi, Nat," my sister greeted Nathan cheerfully.
"Hi," he said shyly. "Morning, Reverie."
"Morning to yourself," I grumbled without looking at him once. Marie began apologizing for my rude and uncivilized behavior. "Like you even know what civilized is," I yelled, having enough of her shit.
"Well, you sure as hell don't," she shot back.
"Guys, calm down," Nathan stepped between us. I glared at him before leaving them. They would go to school, I wouldn't. I wasn't.
"Where are you going," Nathan was suddenly marching next to me.
"Shouldn't you be talking with my sister," I sneered.
"I'm trying to be your friend, Reverie. Gosh, why do you make it so hard," he groaned.
  I froze and stared at him. And here I thought he'd be different. I was wrong. Nobody was different. Why would I think that? Was I really that naive? I shouldn't have let my hopes up.
"Rev, what are these," Nathan shrieked, pointing to my scars and the pictures.
  I ignored him and kept walking. Footsteps told me he followed.
"Reverie! Reverie," Nathan called, chasing me. I ran.
  Why was he chasing me? Why did he still pretend to care? What was he playing at? What type of jerk was he? I was stupid, thinking he'd want to be friends with a freak.
"Reverie," he finally caught up and his hand gripped my shoulder. "What are those?"
"Why do you care," I hissed, jerking away from him.
"Because you deserve to be cared for too," he explained, grabbing my hand.
"Keep lying, pretty boy. These," I gestured to my arms, " are scars."
"What about that," he pointed to the demon scab.
"It's art."