The art of being alone

Chapter 8 A/N ahead!

         ( A/N: Hey people if you <3 the story please favorite and follow :3 also leave comment for what you think should happen! P.s dun judge dis mah first story. K  back to story hope you enjoy dis chaps! )

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                                                          Janic's P.O.V

                I fall asleep soon after my mental breakdown. I dreaded going to school tomorrow because of Isaac.

                He was enough to deal with outside of school because of the way he made me feel. It was like I was stressed and jittery yet calm? I didn't get it.

                It was so frustrating and I couldn't rap my head around him. I knew what he was but it was so hard to believe even though I saw it. Also the random feelings that seemed to pass through him.

                Not to mention I couldn't figure out my own feelings. It felt like I belonged to the little devil but at the same time that I should do absolutely anything to keep him away from me. It was so sick the way he made me feel with the electric volts of pure pleasure, to the nauseating feeling that he could kill me all to easily.

                Too make it better I couldn't tell anyone, so all my confusion couldn't even be shared as my near death experience was taking its toll.

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                I was right in the middle of a nightmare filled with that forsaken boy and the horrid events of that day when my sister ran in, telling me I was screaming and crying in my sleep.

                Taylor was my sister's name. she had room just down the hall next to mom's. She was barely a year younger then me we had been close ever since dad left. She was blonde and beutiful, not to mention kind and smart. She was perfect, I was happy that she had a good life but also  jealous of how easily she seemed to get everything that she wanted.

                I told her I wasn't feeling all the great and she ran to go get my mom, but before she could even make it back I had to run to the bathroom.

                Puking up all of the contents in my stomach, I had broke out into a hot sweat. My mom rushed in attempting to keep as much of my hair out of my face as possible.

                All the stress and internal pain weighed itself down on me as I remembered my dad after the day we had caught him with another women. Isaac was mostly the cause of my pain, but the pure hatred for the sorry excuse of a father I had was what fed fuel to the fire.

                                                  * FLASH BACK *

                " Mommy where is daddy going? " I asked her. Her puffy green eyes were red and wet as if she were crying, her burgandy hair was messy and dry, and her face looked sad as if someone had just died.

                I remember yesterday me and Taylor were playing in the guest room which also served as a toy room.

                We had been dressing up our little baby dolls when daddy walked in, holding a lady that most certainly wasn't mommy.