Even If Saving You Sends Me To Heaven

My birthday came around too quickly. The night before, at the same time as always, I recieved my "birthdaypresent". Not even a stupid person could guess what kind of present it was. And it hurt. A lot. Memories from the night before bore into my brain and woke me up way too early. I looked at the clock; it was four am, and I was officially seventeen years old. I would just have to survive here one more year, and then it will all be better.

I have thoght of running away sevreal times. Fuck, I think about it every day! The reason I don't, though, is that i know he'll find me. He will do anything he can to find me, and he will succeed. And when he succeeds too, he will show me why I'm not doing it again. I would like to keep myself out of the wheelchair for the rest of my life, thank you.

I kept staring at the clock, trying to count every second and hit number "60" just as the clock told me another minute went by. After four minutes of slowing down or speeding up my counting pace, I finally dragged my sore body out of bed and into the bathroom. I took a quick shower, washing my hair with what little remained of the shampoo in there. I usually skipped washing my hair to save shampoo. I knew that I wouldn't have the money to buy more anytime soon. But today was my birthday and I deserved to have clean hair for once. After my shower, I stepped out an looked into the foggy mirror. I could barely make out my thin silouette, and that was good enough for me. I grabbed my towel and wrapped it around me, before grabbing my laundry and leaving the bathroom, making my way over to my room. I threw the laundry in the pile by my bed, making a mental note to go to the washer's soon. I slowly made my way over to my closet, being careful to step over the creeky-spot, before opening it up and looking inside. The bare shelves greeted me, but I already knew what to wear. On the very top shelf, behind an old pirate-hat I used when playing "Peter Pan" with my brother, was a single object of clothing. I reached up and threw the hat on the floor before tugging the blazer down. It was the only somewhat nice piece of clothing I had, and yes, it used to be Gerard's, like everything else I was using lately. I was getting too tall for my own pants, so the ones I usually used was Gerard's too. I tossed the blazer on to my bed, before digging a clean pair of boxers out of the pile of clothes on the bottom of the closet. Then, I grabbed a pair of jeans I tried to save as much as possible, and therefore they weren't as washed out and ugly as all the others, pulling it on and doing the belt. I also put on a red t-shirt with some kind of faded pattern on it, before walking over to the bed and putting the blazer on.

I then went over to the mirror and looked at my reflection. Apart from my slightly blue eye and messy hair, I really looked better than usual. I looked around and spottet my foundation partially under my bed. I raced over and grabbed it, before I raced back to the mirror. My foundation was also something I saved for special occations. I put some on my black eye, dabbing it on and smoothing it out so it looked as natural as possible. I then grabbed my eyeliner. I really didn't have a usable eyeliner. I had found Gerard's eyeliner a couple of weeks ago - in two pieces. I had saved both of them, and today was the first time i got to use eyeliner. I carefully put some on my wetline, using my finger to slightly smudge it, before putting it back down on my bedside table. I ran my fingers through my hair a couple of times, trying to smooth it down, but without sticking to my head like it was glued. It ended with a somewhat ok result, a slight mohawk in a way. I looked at the mirror, satisfied with my appearance. I hoped that this day might turn out better than most other days.

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