Author: scizophrenic-fairy PM
A story of one girl who's addicted to drugs and can't seem to find anything good in her life, she if she manages to find something that will save her or if she i doomedRated: Fiction K+ - English - Angst/Tragedy - Chapters: 2 - Words: 1,891 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 01-04-06 - id: 2083007
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
When she finally pulled herself away from the bridge she walked slowly down the river. Watching her reflection sway and shatter with every teardrop that fell into it. She then wandered home, forgetting what had happened. Her usual tactic forget the bad she would replay them that night in her dreams tormenting herself killing and torturing herself slowly but surely. She dreaded the nights, the violence the pain and the cruel cruel tears. As she walked down the back street to get to the house she heard the town clock strike 6am. Good she thought no one would be awake maybe I will be able to relax today after all.
She walked in the front door now; no longer caring if she woke her mum up she would have to wake up in a minute anyway to go to work. Some times she thought her mum only worked so she didn't have to stay in the house with the screaming baby and her two younger sisters. That responsibility fell to her. Unfortunely. She retreated to her darkened room and hid behind the dark blinds that hung from the ceiling covering her four-poster bed. It wasn't long till her mum's peroxide blonde hair peeked round the door. "Leanne darling are you awake I have to go out now can you look after the kids?"
"I do every other day mother why would today be any different" Leanne's voice answered in a sarcastic murmur. Her mum left the room with a satisfied look on her face, she has managed to destroy her daughter's life for yet another day of the year. It was always this way.
She took a searching look at her top drawer where she kept her paraphernalia. She felt attracted to it, she was dying without it. She had to wait for another 12 hours, 12 hours doesn't seem that much she thought 12 lousy hours. Just at the moment her two 11-year-old twin sisters came barging loudly into her haven of defeat and hate. She hated the screaming troublesome annoying brats it was about then that the baby started to blubber. She tore herself off the comfort of the bed to pick up the annoying twerp to try and make it stop crying. It never worked he only wanted his mum, who would blame him but he will soon learn she thought, she is never around nowadays. Always out at work trying to feed her own smoking habit but making me get my own job to feed my own addiction as well as looking after the brats for free and cooking and cleaning for no money she hated it.
First job make breakfast. She searched through the fridge whilst making a mental note to go shopping later and eventually settled on a breakfast of dry toast or dry cereal, the baby would have to drink water, she didn't care she just wanted to get away from this hell. The brats were screaming at each other over a TV remote, she nearly walked in a broke the damn thing in two. She was tense and angry, she knew why, the stupid come down was reaching its lowest part and then the brats would really be in trouble. She quickly finished making breakfast and served it to the twerps. They seemed to enjoy it but the grimace on their faces showed otherwise. The baby seemed to have mystically fallen asleep in her cot, which in itself was a little miracle. It normally stayed up all-day and slept all night but last night was different. Her mum hadn't come home till gone 1:30 am and had gone straight to sleep after that. No hellos and good nights or even any good days. Her mum in her opinion was a waste of space. She left the twins arguing as she swiftly grabbed a knife from the kitchen rack and testing it on her drapes showed her the intensity of the cut. She was sane. She knew exactly what she was doing as she lowered the blade just below where the vein was the closest to the skin. She dragged the blade backwards sharply and then forwards cherishing the pain that seared through her body. The old scars reopened with more intensity than before deeper as the blood ran thicker the memories became weaker all her melted into the blade and all her feeling and all those words her mum yelled at her all those self hate thoughts and all those bullies words and punches melted into a single blade of metal shimmering like it had been infused with magic instead of hate. The blood ran in criss-crosses across her wrists. She lowered it onto her hip and did the same. She knew the pain on her wrists it was natural it was familiar. But the scraping of a blade on bone that's a new feeling to her.
She just sat there letting the blood stain her clothes and her bed. When the blood had stopped running she cleared it up wiped the blood from her wrists and hips bandaged up her cuts and locked the doors to her emotions for yet another day. An addictive circle someone once described it as. She couldn't really put it better herself. She hated and loved it all at the same time. She craved it but loathed it all at the same time. It confused her to say the least but no one cared, no one ever saw.