Here's My Heart

chapter I

Laura P.O.V.
Death is the scariest thing to me. I've never been fond of the thought of dying. Imagine being six feet underground, decaying with bugs all over your body. Or worse, your body gets burned to ashes with the possibility that you weren't fully burned. That is horrifying.
I was 14 when my mom died. She hung herself but my dad insisted on an open casket funeral. She had rope burns covering her throat and her face was disgustingly pale. There was makeup to try and cover everything up but it didn't work. The sight was enough to make me want to puke. But when people started touching her dead body I couldn't handle it. My dad still hates me for leaving the funeral.
     A few months after is when shit hit the ceiling. My dad started drinking and stopped caring. If I walked out of my room he'd try to avoid me. I started getting lonely. That's when all the depression started. It was my 15th birthday and we usually do a birthday dinner. I asked my dad about it and he told me that we'd go out. So the night of my birthday I was waiting. I heard the door open and my dad walked in drunk off of his ass.
     I made my first cut that night and it wasn't deep but it felt like I could finally control something in my life. I continued cutting until one day I fucked up. I was rushed into the hospital after I went too deep. I need 15 stitches in one arm and 13 in the other. It made my dad completely stop drinking.
I was locked up in the nuthouse for a month and after that I was on 24/7 suicide watch and I went to therapy every week. I didn't get any privacy at all. My door was removed from its hinges, I didn't have a closet door, and the bathroom door was left open if I was in there. It was complete bullshit.
     When I went back to school, everyone knew. If I wasn't getting a look of sympathy I was getting a look of disgust. I had no friends and I ate lunch alone. My dad's solution was to move to a town called Westerly, Maine. He got a job offer there as a sherriff. Just my fucking luck.

Nash P.O.V.
The thing that hurts the most is a parent killing their child. My father killed my sister when she was 9. My mother took his side in court so I left. I went homeless for almost a year before I found Nick Hanson.
He was 24 when I found him. He needed someone to sell drugs for him and in return I could stay with him. With an offer like that I couldn't turn it down. That's when I turned to drugs.
I did them for a year before I overdosed on liquid dilaudid. I was put into rehab for a month and after that the cops locked up Nick for giving drugs to a minor and illegal substance possession.
I ran the business for a few months before I overdosed again but this time on heroin. I went to rehab again and struggled for a bit with the addiction before I found a roommate that hated the idea of drugs.
I live in westerly, Maine. It's not a shitty place but it's not a perfect one either. There's a few drug dealers roaming the town. It's quiet but there's a lot of gossip. If you want dirt on someone just ask around.
I don't get close to people because all they ever want is sex or drugs. I've been called an asshole for the way I act towards people. I scare people when I look at them. If they're bold enough to approach me then my words are enough to scare them away for good. In this town I'm considered a delinquent. People hold their purses and kids closer when I walk by. I wish I could change the way people look at me but I'm too fucked up to change, right?
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A/N
Hey I know this probably sucks right now but this was just an introduction to the characters. It does get better though I promise.