Saving Violet.

Parties.

You know it's a pretty decent party when its 1am and still going on solid. There's bodies grinding against each other, red cups littering the floor, and the strong smell of booze and sweat. Give it 15 minutes tops before the coppers crash the party.

I came with my friend Lottie, but she vanished within the first half hour. Cheers for that by the way Lot. See, this is how I blend in, and avoid being labelled the 'outcast'. You just have to show your face at the right parties and your good to go. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind parties, but I only really go for Lottie. I'd much rather be at home.

I took a sip of whatever was in my cup, and it kept up the illusion that this was a great night. I've chatted to half a dozen people already, or tried to. The music kinda makes it difficult. After a quick dance with a couple of girls in my year, I pointed to my empty cup and walked in the direction of the fridge. They'd never know I was off home instead.

The wind hit me in the face as I turned round the corner towards me and my sister's place.

*****Next Day*****

The classroom was buzzing with stories of Friday's party, when Mr Jackson made his first entrance. All eyes darted towards him. You see, he's one of them teachers who is respected by all the kid's, without throwing it in peoples faces. He was young; almost one of us.

My heart always quickens when I come home from school. Silly really, but every time our front door comes into view, for a single second I think theyre going to be inside. Waiting for us.

But no matter how many dandelions, shooting stars and 11:11's I wished on, they never were, and I was always dissapointed.

Now it's just me and my older sister Chastidy. "Hello?" I yell, my voice questioning if she's home. There's a clatter of a mug, then the door to the front room opens.

"Hey Violet, good party?"

I answered with a nod, and told her I'm off to bed. What? Parties are tiring...

Me and Chastidy aren't particularly close, but she's all I've got. Mum and Dad buggered off to australia when we were about 7 and 8 and left us here with the house. But if anyone asks where our parents are, It's always the same. There out. I don't think social services would particularly like the idea of a 14 and 15 year old living alone.

We do what we have to to get by. Even if it means Chastidy bringing guys home all the time. We have clothes, food in the cupboards, and somewhere to sleep. Our house looks pretty average from outside, but inside is pretty basic. But, I wouldn't change it. I mean yeah, I wouldn't mind having a fancy phone or a laptop, but I don't see that happening.

The heating had clicked off by the time I woke up, the cold air biting my skin. I overslept. No school today then.

As I reached my arm out to get a glass of water, I felt a stabbing sensation in my wrist. The truth of what I'd done slapped me in the face.

I'd done it again.

My left hand moved hesitantly down my right arm, doing the job my eyes were to ashamed to do.

Initially, there was nothing to see except a wad of gauze. But I slowly peeled it back and saw the gashes. I then spotted the nail scissors sat on my bedside table.

Crap.