Skylar's POV
When I woke up that morning, I knew that today was going to be the best and last day of my life. As I changed into my school clothes, I thought about my mom.
I remembered that every day after school, I would run home crying because the other kids at my school would call my mom a slut, and they would call me white trash. "You're not white," she would always tell me, "you're mildly Mexican." And she would kiss my head and give me chocolate milk and a cookie.
I never looked like my mom, with my wavy brown hair, dark brown eyes and year round tan. She had straight, platinum blonde hair and diamond blue eyes and she only got a tan from her tanning spray.
Kiera used to protect me from the bullies, but she moved away.
My mom got a new boyfriend around the same time she got cancer. He was nice to me whenever she was around, but every time she looked away, he would glare at me, like her sickness was my fault.
After mom passed away, the day after my thirteenth birthday, his true colors shined through. He played nice with social devices and adopted me, but he was a completely different person behind closed doors. Verbal abuse quickly turned to physical abuse as my back became covered with scars from his belt.
I got ready for school. The bullies seemed surprised when I brushed them off, but I got so much abuse at home that it was easy. Now they all pretty much ignored me, but I was just fine with that.
I snuck in through my bedroom window when I got home, changed into nicer clothes and grabbed my new blade.
I had never understood why people cut themselves. They hurt themselves, making new scars, that they covered up. I already had enough scars to cover up.
There were lashes covering my back, cigarette burns on my arms, and the word "freak" carved into my stomach. All done by the boyfriend, of course. He had never told me his name.
I got to the concert and went to the meet and greet. They were all pretty excited when they saw my clean wrists. Jaime patted me on the back and I winced when he hit a fresher lash. I don't think they noticed though. I wonder if they were going to remember me when they saw me on the news tomorrow. If they even watch the news.
After the concert, I locked myself in the bathroom and pulled out my razor. It hurt as I pulled it across I pulled it across my skin, but not as bad as I though it would. I did the same to my other wrist, I became light headed after a while and my memory got hazy.
I remember leaving the bathroom because I wanted to see the moon one last time. I remember talking to someone and I remember my body falling towards the side walk. I can remember if I hit it or not.
