Blood Line

Prologue

Laying here, on the rough carpeted floor, I waste my life away. Lines on my skin, blood pouring out, surrounding me, making my world red. I lay there thinking how it could have come to this, how could I not think of anything else. Why me? Why had I been chosen for this destiny. Nothing but the celling in my view, no one's home, just me all alone in my own little, dark world. I could feel like blood touching my back, how much had I bled.

And then, I shut my eyes, making my world, darker than ever before.

Blurry vision, I slowly opened my eyes. Had I been saved? But by who? Who would want to? Why? As my vision cleared, I saw my surroundings and realised what had happened. I watched myself, on the floor, blood covering the left quarter of my wrist and back. I was dying but I was stuck. What did this mean? Did I still have things to look forward to? I hovered over my body, looked into my eyes and saw hollow. I looked so blank and dead, that I wondered why no one had never said anything to me about my appearance. Ding! The door, someone was home, they were going to find me. For some reason I was hopeful, maybe someone actually cared.

I flew down to the staircase and there stood my mum. She looked tired. I wanted to say, I'm upstairs, help me, but I didn't, I couldn't, I didn't want to. She was carrying groceries, she put them down, took off her shoes and went to the kitchen to put away the groceries. Not even a call for my name. Not a care in the world or her world. I followed her, she was unpacking the bags and making tea. I tried to grab her attention, but I couldn't, but why would I want to? I did what I wanted, to get freedom from her. But something in my heart ached.

Still no call for my name, how can she call herself a mother when she doesn't care about her child. She only cared for my brother, he listened to her, obeyed her like a dog. Whereas I, wanted to do things, go out, be with friends, be a normal teenager. She hated that word; teenager. Trying to explain her what that word meant was the hardest thing to do without being threatened, yet I was still threatened. What I want to know, is why some people have life so easy, with loving friends and family, while there's people like me or even worse trying to live to the last minute.

Several hours passing, mother had made food and tea for herself and went to the living room and started to relax. I had no idea what to do, I was dying in. my bedroom upstairs and I had a mother downstairs eating. I wish I could decide what I wanted, but I believe that our lives are already written, and we are just characters within that story. For this story, I was the main character and I couldn't die yet. So, I had to live. Hovering over my body and relaxed and slowly moved down, until I gasped for air.