Journey To Japan.
***Chapter One.***
The blood shone in the sunshine, glinting like a scarlet dream. I have to do this. I thought to myself, All my friends do. The pain was UNSTOPPABLE, I could feel the metal blade of the kitchen knife I stole from the kitchen digging into my veins, bursting them, and snooping around for another target. Jaden said it was cool, fun and easy, so I decided to do it. I took the blade out of my skin and saw the blood spewing out. Yuck. I thought, disgusted. I ran into my on-suite bathroom, and violently turned the cold tap on. A gush of freezing water splashed around the bowl, and I shoved my wrist into the small waterfall. After about 10 minutes the spewing had turned to trickling, and I opened a rather small cupboard door, labelled 'Plasters'. I took one out of the box; it was one with a teddy on it. But no ordinary teddy. The bear had blood all over his paws, and was holding his hand to his eye, which had fallen out. Phew, that's over. I thought to myself as I walked nervously down the stairs. I was scared dad might find out. I jumped off the last step and walked into our blue kitchen-dads choice. Mum was by the Aga, cooking a very ugly looking stew, full of lumps. "Mum?" I said, looking at the stew. She looked up, turned around and came towards me. "Yes honey?" She said kindly. I pointed to the stew. "Is that meat in the stew?" Mum sighed, and went back to the stew, and didn't answer me. I clenched my fists. "I asked you a question. Now answer me." I spoke, through gritted teeth. Mum didn't even look up. "No, it's not. But I'm tired of cooking two different meals, it's exhausting. I told you the last time we had this discussion, that if you tried any of this nonsense, I will ring your father and he will come and sort you out. So I will. Look at yourself Brooke, why do you choose to be this way?" I scowled at her. "It's my desision!" I shouted, before storming off. I walked crossly into the living room where my older brother was playing his guitar. "You know Brooke," Jem began. "You've been acting like a drama queen lately. All the vegetarian crap-Dad thinks it's a cry for help." I gave him the evils, but he was looking down at his guitar. "Don't care." I said, walking over to the CD player and inserting a disk. Knives and Pens came on, and Jem recognised the tune. He started playing it on his guitar. "Alone at last, we can sit and fight" I sang loudly, getting up on the sofa and jumping up and down in time with Jem's guitar playing. "I've lost all faith in this blurring light. Stay right here we can change our plight!" Dad came in and turned off the CD player. "Stop jumping on the sofa, its not a bloody trampoline!" His voice was firm and commanding, and i obeyed it. He stormed over to Jem and pulled the guitar out of his hands. "I don't want any of this heavy metal crap!" He shouted, slamming the guitar on the floor. "No!" Jem cried out, running up to the guitar and cradling it in his arms. "Put the bloody thing down! I am ashamed to have you as a son!" Jem started crying, but quietly. "And you." He said, turning to me. "You are going to eat meat, and i'm going to force you." I stared at dad. His eyes were bloodshot, and his hand was skimming over his greasy thick grey hair. "No, i'm not." I said, folding my arms. "Yes you are." He commanded, spit beginning to fly out of his mouth. I wiped my forehead in disgust. He walked out of the living room, and I looked over at Jem. "Is it ok?" I said, nodding at the guitar. "The paint has come off, but apart from that-fine." A wry smile broke on Jem's face, and I went over to hug him. "Here." I heard dad's loud voice behind me. I turned around. He was holding a plate, with bacon on. "You will eat this delicious bacon..or I will force it down your throat." Dad said, almost calmly. "No." I said, standing up. I was nearly as tall as him, and had the same green eyes,but apart from that, we looked completely different. I had long, black hair, and a bright green emo fringe covering one eye. Dad went berserk when he saw it. But he couldn't do anything-no one could. I blinked and realised I had been dreaming. Dad was holding my thin, pale wrist with the plaster on, and was looking cross. "What did you do?" He said demandingly. "I-I" Stuttered, looking around for a poor excuse. "Was cross stitching and it went into my skin." I smiled at him. "Stupid girl." He said, thrusting my wrist back at me.
