troubled.(ON HOLD)

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Media| Hendrix.

Chapter one| my past.

Tortured. Broken. Destroyed. Ruined. That is what I am. My name is fucking Hendrix Kennedi. That's right, I was named after Jimi Hendrix. If you don't know who he is, I seriously wonder if you have been living under a rock all your life.

But it's cool if you don't know who he is. I mean being a legend and all...guess some people are bound to not know...did you see my sarcasm there? But ya, I was named after Jimi Hendrix. Famous guitar player, musician, and all around talented. He was in a band called 'The Jimi Hendrix Experience'. Ring a bell? No? Well there's Google for a reason.

I know what you're thinking. I'm a crazy bitch. But no sweetheart, that's where you've got it wrong. You see, I might have my snide remarks and bitchy attitude but I have an explanation. I don't want to dig too deep of a hole just yet, but let's just say my past isn't all fluffy unicorns and double rainbows.

Anyways lets get back to the point. Due to some major circumstances, me and my 17 year old brother had to move out of town before we had to get sent to an orphanage. Fun. But I took advantage of this shitty opportunity, I decided it would be good to play 'nice goody two-shoes' at this school. So my brother and I packed our bags and fled that town like it was on fire.

I think I forgot to mention I had a brother. Well I do. His name is Harrison Kennedi. He was in fact named after George Harrison. Okay you have to know him. Guitarist? Musician? Come on for fucks sake he was in the Beetles! And I swear if you don't know who the Beetles are I sincerely pity your reason of living. As you can see, my parents were very fond of musical legends.

I know, one question is lingering in your mind. 'But Hendrix, where are your parents?' Well since you must know, I'll tell you the story of my past.

My parents where pretty much the shittiest people you could ever meet. My mom drank a bottle of vodka every single day and my dad smoked a joint every chance he got. The only good thing was that they never talked to us. But when they did, it wasn't verbal, but abusive. They slapped, kicked, and punched. Not once have they ever said 'I love you' to either of us.

We didn't tell anyone because we figured it would be better than an orphanage. Let's just say, the orphanage in our community wasn't the friendliest place to be. That place was seriously fucked up. On my 10th birthday my parents forgot about it and when I tried to tell them, my arm was scraped with a knife and some of my hair was pulled out, they claimed I was 'obsessively annoying the living fuck out of them'. Later that day my parents left me and Harrison to go somewhere and never returned. Since we didn't have any other family and figured it would be better than the dreaded orphanage, we continued going to school and never told anyone our parents were gone.

When neighbors started asking where our parents were, we would just say they were on a business trip or 'out'. But not until recently, people started to not believe us, so we took the money we saved up, a few clothes, and headed to the neighboring town. We got a house, with me forging my missing mother's signature, and enrolled ourselves into the high school, with Harrison forging our father's signature.

That is my past. To cut it short, my parents were abusive addicts that caused me and my brother many bruises and on my 10th birthday, they up and left us to who knows the fuck where. This lead me to rebelling, drinking, and being overall pissed at life. But that all changed when we moved.

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Is it good? I dunno just thought 'why the hell not?'

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