Love Hurts

I lay in the floor feeling nothing but pain. My dad just stormed out of the house after coming home drunk and beating the living hell out me for no reason at all. After two years you would think that I would be used to it by now. When I can finally stand I grab the wall and work my way up the stairs. I get to the top and can walk better now so I walk to the bathroom connected to my room.

I look under the sink for my bag. I find it and put it on the counter and pull out my razor and make a cut on my left arm for each time this has happened this week. I go to start on the next arm when I get a text from a friend at school.

" Hurry your ass up your going to be late!"

I clean and dress my wounds and fifteen minutes later I'm out the door in a black hoodie, white long sleeved shirt and black skinny jeans.