I sat in a dark room, there was no light allowed to enter through the closed door and blinds. This was just fine with me however, I liked the dark. It made me feel alone. Most people don't like that feeling; I love it. Whenever I am with people something happens, something goes wrong. I end up getting hurt.

I sat in the rocking chair you made for me long ago. A present you gave to me for my birthday. Oh how I adored that chair. I remember you sitting in it and rocking back and forth time after time again while I sat on your knee and you told me bedtime stories. I loved the tales you would tell, also. Princesses and knights fighting dragons, those were the kind of stories you told me, the fairy tales that I shall forever remember. I used to believe in magic and the power of love that the prince had for the princess would forever reign over good. I used to believe that there was a meaning for all life. That was gone now.

In my arms was a teddy bear. One that you gave to me. The right button eye was gone, and his ear had a huge tear. His golden brown fur was matted from the years of me squeezing him tight and thinking of you when you weren't there. He was always your substitute. Teddy made me feel better when you were gone late at night and didn't return until the next morning. We would always wait for you. I still am waiting for you.

You tried to burn the rocking chair; you tried to throw away teddy. My faith and hope had died; yet, I still wait for you.

I looked up across the room. Despite the little light that was in the room, I could make out something moving. I stood up and out of the rocking chair and I set the teddy bear on the chair. I trudged across the room, my bare feet dragging across the old carpet.

I reached out my hand and tried to feel whatever it was that was out in front of me. My fingers brushed a cold surface, sending a chill up my spine. I could make out a girl with blue eyes and freckles staring at me. Her wavy dirty blond hair swung messily around her shoulders. Dark circles were under her eyes, she looked as though she hadn't slept in weeks. Under her left eye was a bruise. I couldn't see how big it was because of the little light in the room, but it was big enough for me to see that it was there. I wanted to ask what happened, though, I already knew.

I raised my hand to my eye, the girl did the same. As soon as my cold fingers came in contact with the flesh, I pulled back. Pain seared through my face and I looked at the girl in front of me. This girl was me. I was only staring at a mirror.

I looked at myself long and hard, I don't know how long I did so, and I don't know why. Maybe it was because I didn't recognize the person in my reflection. The bags under my eyes, it was true, I hadn't slept in a long time, not since you started drinking. My matted hair, it hadn't been brushed since you started smoking. The bruise on my cheek had been given to me by you.

I looked at my reflection and I hated it. I absolutely despised what I had become. You forced me to be like this. It was all because of you, I should hate you. I should want to kill you. Though, for some reason I don't. I hate myself. I want to kill myself, not you.

Why did I feel like this? Why couldn't I just hate you for what you have become, for what you had done to me? Why can't I?

I looked at the mirror. Rage boiled inside of me. I didn't want to see my reflection anymore. I hate it. I hated everything -- everything but you. I could never hate you. Though I could hate myself, and I needed to hate something, I needed to hate.

My hand balled into a fist and before I knew what was happening I pulled my arm back and with all my strength thrust it forward. My reflection cracked. I felt my knuckles bleed. It wasn't enough. I punched the mirror once more. It cracked more, and I began to feel pieces of glass pierce my skin. Warm liquid ran down my hand. It still wasn't enough. The mirror still stood in one piece. I hated how weak I was. I was too weak. You made me weak, you made me this way.

One more time. I thrust my balled fist out and the mirror finished cracking. Pieces of glass drove into my hand while others flew out of the wooden frame. I couldn't take the pain. I pulled my hand back into my chest. I looked down at the now bloody mess of my hand. I could make out pieces of glass gouged into my skin. I then took my left hand and pulled out what glass I could. I enjoyed watching as more blood tricked down my hand to the floor. Pain seared through my hand. I concentrated on this pain. I could take this; it kept me from the pain of thinking of you.

I looked at the dresser that stood under the mirror. Shattered pieces of glass scattered across the wooden surface. I picked up the biggest one of them all. Cuts were formed in my hand from holding it and I raised my sleeve to my left arm. There I spotted another bruise. You gave me this, too.

I bit my lip. I was thinking of you again. I had to stop this. My hand raised and I pushed the glass piece deep into my flesh. There I pulled downward. I created a cut that ran from my shoulder to elbow. Pain seared through my body, but I could take it, at least I wasn't thinking of you.

As I slumped to the floor something caught my eye. It darted across my room. Though I tried, I couldn't keep my eyes on it. It was too fast. The few sights I caught of it told me it was black, completely black: a shadow. Or maybe, a smile ran across my lips, a demon. They have come for me. It took them long enough. I wanted to die, and if they were here that told me that it would come soon.

I then took my piece of glass and ran it down leg, where another bruise had been created by you. You hurt me more than I had initially thought, you see, I never really looked at the bruises you gave me, they caused me to think of you, though now that I look, there are quite a few. Oh well, all those will be forgotten.

Red poured from my leg now, too, and my vision was becoming blurry. Despite the darkened room and my slightly blurry vision, I could make out more shadowed demons. They were waiting for me, you see? They wanted me to come with them, and I, too, wanted to go with them. Maybe in hell I won't think of you.

I only wish that I could bring your girlfriend with me. She caused you to change. Before her you didn't drink, you didn't smoke. You told me that you loved me, that I was you baby girl, but you never said that to me anymore. You now told her that you loved her and that she was your baby; I can't even remember the last time you said or acted like you cared for me. I wish she would die, maybe you would come back. I had thought about killing her before, oh the many ways I came up with to kill her, none of which were pleasant. Though, I couldn't kill her that would hurt you. After all you loved her and I just couldn't kill something that you hold so dearly. You didn't hold me so close anymore; it wouldn't hurt you if I left. I am just a useless person always in the way. This way it would be one less mouth to feed, not that I got regular meals anyway. Better yet, even, you wouldn't have to ignore me; I just wouldn't be there at all. I would do anything to make it easier on you, even if it meant ending my life.

My vision blurred even more; I figured I was loosing a lot of blood. I couldn't raise my hand anymore. I was too weak. It would come soon, now. The demons were lining the walls of my room. More and more of them came. Maybe they were delusions; maybe they were just shadows, and nothing more. Though, that thought left my mind as one of them walked toward me, a dark hand outstretched. There was little shape to this being, but I could, however, make out the vague outline of a human form and the hand that reached out. I wrapped its cold nothing hand around mine and lifted the hand that held the piece of glass. I stared at the glittering shard, it was beautiful.

The demon helped me raise my other hand, palm up, and gently gouge the shard into my wrist. This was it, this was the final blow. Now the demons were surrounding me, I fell to the ground, too weak to do anything else. The end was near and soon my pain would be over. One thought ran through my head as blackness rimmed my vision.

"I will still be waiting for you, Daddy, in hell."

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Stained Glass