𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒

THIS IS JUST THE PROLOGUE

Everyday was the same for, (Y/N) (L/N). She'd wake up, get ready, get an insult or 5 from her mother, go to school; get bullied, go home and, if the day was exceptionally worse than others (which usually was) she'd slit her wrists. Sometimes she would stop resisting to her mother's boyfriend's (whom was most often times drunk off his ass with her mother) beatings because, she just felt so weak and was just so sick and tired of resisting. After all, resisting would make her beating worse. She was so tired of living her life but, didn't have the courage to end it.

Already, her life was hard at home but, the cheerleaders and the jocks just had make it worse. The jocks would call her names along the lines of, 'depressed bitch!', 'You fucking idiot', 'Slut!', 'Whore!' and so many more that just made her feel unbearable pain in her chest. She didn't want this life. She absolutely hated it. So, she started to listen to the voices. Really listen.

Maybe ending her life was the solution to stop being insulted, being beat, being thrashed against the lockers; having to cut her wrists because it took the pain away. Cutting her wrists was a way to calm the voices inside her head. It was like food to them. Almost satisfactory. Almost. It used to be enough for them. But then, they wanted more. They wanted more than cuts on skin. They wanted to feel how her life slowly faded away from her body as she did the deed. They wanted death. And everyday, it drove her closer to it.

The nights were always spent on trying to sleep. But the voices. Oh, voices! They drove her to the edge of insanity. You're worthless, they'd say, no one loves you. You're better off dead. But she just couldn't do it.

Despite the voices in her head, there was one boy that fancied her. No, not just 'fancied'. He loved her. He has for years. And as much as he wanted to tell her, he knew she would take it the wrong way and think he pitied her.

He would catch himself staring at her. Then he started to admire her. Admire her like a trophy. As creepy as that sounds, he couldn't help but love the way her (H/C) hair complimented her (E/C) eyes. As much as he loved her, there were things he hated about her. Like all the cuts on her wrists. As much as she tried to hide them under her long sleeved shirts and make up, he could see right through. He also hated the way she wouldn't eat because- as all the cheerleaders would say- she was 'fat'.

He didn't believe the statements people would make of her. He thought that she was perfect in every way. Although he knew about her self harming habits, he wondered where she got all those bruises? And if there was any way he could help her?

He was the only one that truly loved her. His name was Ryan. Ryan Ross. And he was determined to save her.

I had written this story a long time ago except, the story had original characters. And since I'm bored in quarantine I'm going to put it up on Wattpad. This wasn't edited because it is LATE. About 2am. PLEASE POINT OUT ANY MISTAKES! I know this takes place in high school but Ryan is supposed to look like from the Pretty.Odd era. Also, sorry if it feels like everything's going so fast, I'm not that good of a writer.

-Dana