Okay first off, none of this is real. Seems important to say. Secondly, it wont be so.... Sad next chaptre, I hope. It should be better soon.
Chapter One.
Sometimes you just have to scream.
Scream at what's wrong. Scream at everything that has ever gone wrong. Scream at everything that will go wrong. Scream at the world. Scream at society. Scream at life.
Unfortunately, sometimes you just have to scream because that's all you can do. When your life is spinning out of control and there's nothing you can do about it. When nothing is going right and all you can do is scream.
Most people don't understand. Most people couldn't even begin to understand, though. It's not their fault. My life... Well, it's not what everyone is led to believe.
I'm that cute, artsy girl with an adorable sense of style. That girl who's confident in everything she does, but is kind of shy when it comes to people. The girl with the aqua hair, a knack for puzzles who's more comfortable with animals. The girl that's always happy.
This isn't exactly true.
I'm artistic, sure. I'm shy, good with puzzles and better with animals, yeah. I have aqua blue hair. Also true. I do what I want with the up most confidence when I'm out of the house, which is quite frequently. This much is true.
But, honestly, I hate myself. I always think I'm disgustingly overweight, even though I'm told I have no weight to me. I wear huge, knit, pullover, hand-me-down sweaters with simple designs and skinny jeans everyday to hide my body. I suffer from depression. I sincerely believe everyone hates me.
And the reason my hair is blue? I was sick of being that girl with mousy brown hair no one noticed, so I dyed my hair in the school bathroom. I learned it was a mistake on my part later that day.
My mom hates me, you see. Any reason to yell at me, she takes it and goes beyond. Honestly, part of the reason I wear these sweaters is because she refuses to buy me clothing. Another part? To hide all the cuts, burns and scars from my self harm and all the bruises from her beating me simply to prove to me that she can. She wants me to believe I'm her property. Her slave, per say. I clean the house, wash the dishes, do the laundry, mow the lawn, garden.. Everything. And if I don't do exactly what she wants, when she wants, exactly how she wants, she beats me. If I do something she doesn't like, like dye my hair, I'm beaten..
My mom's a drug addict. And a drunk. She's bipolar and angry at the world. She thinks that I was 'sent' into this world to be her burden. She tells me she wishes I was never born, that I was dead, or that she doesn't want me to ever come home. But if I don't come home exactly on time, she beats me.
My dad commited suicide in the summer when I was twelve. I walked into the house and found him in a chair next to the entry way. He had his pistol in his hand, and his head was blown out onto the wall next to him. I started screaming and crying, and my mom, who simply tolerated me at that point, saw it and flipped out. She grabbed the closest thing to her, which happened to be an umbrella, and started to hit me as hard as she could with it repeatedly. She screamed it was all my fault. That he hated me. I ended up with a concussion, a broken nose, a split lip, a broken arm, bruises, and internal bleeding. Then she panicked; she didn't want to get in trouble with the police. She put me in the front seat of the car and then 'accidently' drove into a tree so she could tell the hospital that's what happened. They believed her. Nobody asked me what happened. I didn't tell.
She's hated me ever since.
I've hated me ever since.
I'm sixteen now. And I'm abused frequently. I go to school, I have a part time job so I can buy myself food and clothes. I was bullied, and sometimes still am. People just tend to never notice. I have two friends and neither of them know of my situation. I have a new cast every couple months, and I've convinced my teachers and classmates it's because I'm clumsy. I get good grades, and avoid my house as long as possible each day at all costs. I'm depressed and self harm. I think about suicide everyday.
But life has to get better at some point, right? So I'm still here.
My name is Zaria, and this is my life.
