As I walk down the streets of crazy Jersey, I notice something I see everyday, but don't think too much about. Homeless people,stray dogs,drunk weirdos. Everywhere.
I never realized it was this bad. Like really bad.Then I start to think of my life in general. An alcoholic-abusive father,cutting,hating myself,crappy home,no money,being a whore-a nobody.Wow. I have just realized how much my life sucks camel dicks. Well, what can I do?
I soon see my house at the end of the street and cringe. Carefully, I open the door with my key, hoping not to make any noise. Once again, no suck fucking luck.
"WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU YOU SAID ONE HOUR! YOU WERE GONE FOR ALMOST TWO FUCKING HOURS!!" He screams at me.That's it. That's where I draw the line.
" CALM YOUR TITS OLD MAN!! SOME THUG STOLE YOUR BOX AND I HAD TO GET ANOTHER!!" I yelled.
If looks could kill, I’d be killed and buried a hundred times over. He looks at me like he just stepped in some dog shit. Then his brain started to work. He slapped me so hard that I pretty much flew across the room. He dashes to the corner that I landed in and begins to kick and punch me. And this time, It doesn't stop until I pass out.
~Time lapse~
I wake up with a drilling headache that makes me feel like my eyes were going to pop out any minute. Is this what a hangover feels like? Gahhhh…. I sit up and feel a sharp pain near my rib cage and blood STILL pouring out of my nose, and a puddle of blood next to my head to go along with it. I grip my side standing up, hoping to make the pain more manageable
"Ahhhh..." I slowly let out.
"So you finally woke up, huh?" I hear my fathers voice cut through the silent room.I'm scared to do anything so I just look at him.
" How long was I out for?" I finally stammer.
"About,hmm,two,maybe three hours." He replies like he didn't just beat the living shit out of his own daughter. If my nose was still bleeding after about three hours, how am I still alive?
I simply sigh in return as I try to walk up the stairs. He laughs as I fall down, causing me to scream.Not being able to put up with the pain any more, I carefully walk on all fours to my room. I crawl to the bathroom connected to my room and lift up my shirt. I take note of how bruises are already blossoming across my pale torso. I gently poke my rib cage and immediately regret to do so. It felt like I was being shanked a million times over. I had to bite my lip to restrain from screaming. I put my shirt down and limp to my dresser. I reach all the way in the back and take out a little tin box with countless razors inside.I open it and take out the biggest razor I see. It still has brick red blood on it from the last time I used it. I take it and just begin to cut up my left arm. I make about 14 smaller cuts on my right wrist.. I head off to the bathroom to wash the coppery, red liquid from my arms. when they stop bleeding after quite some time, I take out my box of makeup, along with a bottle of liquid skin, the kind used for special effects. I put some liquid skin on, wait for it to dry,and pat some powdery makeup on it. There. Looks like nothing happened. I walk to my bed and start to cry. I just cry and cry about everything. Why couldn't I of just been born with a loving family? Why am I such a fuckup? All I want is a loving family. Not a mansion and lots of money. Just two loving parents and my brother back. Oh man, that's my one wish. To have my brother Jake back.
~Flashback~
It all started on his third birthday. I had finally saved enough money to get him a good present and was walking down the street to the toy store after school.Seeing as how I wanted to get him a good present, I was stupid enough to leave him with that asshole. I finally chose an original Superman action figure, because he looked up to me and since I liked superman, he liked superman.I was walking back home and noticed that he wasn't in the yard playing like he usually was.I then entered my house and the first thing I heard was his crying and screaming. Soon followed by my fathers wicked laughter. I ran to where the sound was coming from;Knowing that his laughter meant trouble. Then I saw it. He was hunched over Jake with a giant hook in his hand. From the place I was standing, I couldn't see exactly what it was that he was doing.All I saw was blood. And lots of it.I ran up to my father and saw what was happening. He had cut him open. From his collarbone to his bellybutton there was an opening. he was just ripping out his organs and tossing them behind him. I remember screaming to the top of my lungs and knocking my father out.Then I was holding my little brother in my hands. The most bloodiest, disturbing thing I have ever seen, was in my hands.I ran to got take him to the hospital but stopped as he said his few final words.
"I wub you."
~End of flashback~
I was sobbing uncontrollably by then. I couldn’t breathe and was clutching my heart as if it would help. Lucky for me, I’m a quiet crier so my dad can’t hear me. If he did, he would probably come ‘make a man outta me’ although I’m a girl. Slowly, I calm down and take out my tin box again. This time I don’t stop. I keep going until my arms are covered in blood. Then I started to notice some of the blood started washing off. Oh, yeah my tears are still falling. I wash up, put more liquid skin on, and dry my cheeks. I really miss him and will do anything to bring him back.

Notes

I cried writing this ;-;