Chapter 1

Some days I feel like not getting up, I think what’s the point when all we do is get up to live to die. Sometimes I feel like sleeping for eternity so I don’t have to face the world, or my problem. In my bed and in my dreams I believe I’m normal, that there’s just the right amount of chaos in my life, you know the regular stuff, boys, homework, and homecoming. But there’s this unbalance that surrounds me and suffocates me and when there’s nothing I can do about it, I release it the only way I know how. I can’t tell anyone about it, they would probably be freaked out; even I’m a little scared. What if one day I cut a little too deep? I don’t plan on killing myself, I’m in control, it’s the one thing I can control in my life. But sometimes control can run out of control, and before I know it I’m dead. I know I need help; I don’t need others to tell me that! I know I’m screwed in the mind; I did need others to tell me that! That’s why it’s my secret, mine and mine alone. Beside even if I told someone, they wouldn’t care, and my own mother doesn’t care so why would someone else?

Before my life ran out of control, it was bloody perfect, I had an older brother who would always be there for me, and I had a loving mother and the coolest dad in the world. He was my best friend, sure I had other friends, like Marcy and Isabella, but my dad was always number one, I could tell him anything. But then one day, he was gone, he died in car accident and that day my life turned to hell.

I was sad, I lost my best friend, and my mother was so deep in grief she didn’t come from her room for three weeks. My brother took care of me, like he actually cared, but he didn’t. Because one day mother got over her sorrow for dad, but she got over it a little too fast, then her mood changed. She wasn’t that loving mother from before; she was mean, vicious even. I found her passed out on the couch one night beer in one had several bottles on the floor, and white power on the coffee table next to her credit card. I was thirteen the day I found out my mother had resorted to drinking and drugs, and it all made sense. The fastest way to get over was to forget and she certainly did.

She would yell, curse, and sometimes she would resort to hitting. Then one day my brother turned eighteen, I woke up to give him a happy birthday, he wasn’t there. All his stuff was gone, and he left me here, with the devil herself. I could understand why he left, I may have only been thirteen, but I know what I see everyday. He couldn’t take it, just like I can’t take it on most days and I resort to that one special release. I thought he cared, how could I believe he cared. It was the first time I felt that tightening in my chest, it hurt so much I couldn’t breathe, and then I saw it, a small glint of silver. It was one of dad’s old fashioned razors, it just seemed to call to me, and before I knew it I made the first cut. I could remember the relief as all that pain just washed out of me; I remember feeling that first burst of fear as I realized what I had done. I told myself I would never do something like that again. I promised myself. But I never did keep that promise, I thought what would happen if someone found out, would they think I was a freak? Would they tell? Would I be placed in a mental hospital? I didn’t know, I was scared and I did the only thing I could thing of at the time. I drew away from everyone, I isolated myself. I lost my friends, and I found a new best friend, that small silver blade I keep under my mattress at home. I focused on my homework, I never talked. And soon I made myself scarce I would spend hours by myself in the schools library lost in some fairytale that would help me forget but it never was totally effective.

Freshmen year had started a few months ago, I’m glad no ones noticed. I think maybe they’ll never find out and I could quit this on my own, when my mother was better. But somewhere deep down I know that’s a lie, because it’s hard to quite, it’s one of the things people don’t get. Cutting it’s an addiction, like alcohol, drugs, gambling and sex. And I’m addicted, it’s in my system and it doesn’t want to leave. I can here her now, banging downstairs. She’s frustrated, probably had bad business.

“Marisol!” I cringe I hate my name, it sounds like a curse coming from her mouth, like I shouldn’t be alive. I can here her banging her way up the stairs. I think she knocked a picture of the wall.

“Marisol” she says slamming my door open. “Did you drink my beer?” she hissed. I frowned why would I want her beer, she should know by now I don’t ever touch it, sometimes even when I want too, just to know what’s so great about it, I still don’t.

“No” I say quietly. She glares, her eyes are wide and her pupils are dilated. She’s high, I can see the beginnings of sores on the corner of her mouth and arms. The top of her lip and the bottom of her nose is red, from snorting cocaine. Her hair was mussed and her make up was smudged. Every time I look at her, I forget a little bit more of her when she was like a beautiful wall flower, that’s what dad called her, ’his beautiful wall flower’

“Then where is it?” she snapped, I shrugged. She probably drank it all.

“If I find out that you drank it an gave it to your worthless friends, you are dead meat girl” I shrug again.

“Why are you so quite? Think your too good to speak to your mother? With all your good grades, and beautiful looks?” she cooed at me. “Well your not, you’re an ugly little thing. I’m beautiful not you!” she said, maybe once along time ago she was, even I thought she was, but now she’s withering away.

“Your nothing but a worthless girl, your grades won’t do shit for you. You’ll be no where soon rotting on the streets.” she hissed stepping closer to me, she was right in my face. I could smell the faint sent of alcohol. I mentally snorted living on the streets would be better then living here. She gripped my chin squeezing my cheeks.

“Don’t you ever think your better then me!” she said my head jerked as she snapped her wrist a bit. I winced.

“Okay” I whispered. She sneered.

“Good” she said head towards the door. I reached up and rubbed my jaw. I wasn’t better then her, I know I wasn’t. I think I was worse.

“Oh an behave, we’re having a guest over for dinner, I don’t want you scarring this one away.” she said before she slammed my door. I sighed.

“Great another sleeze.” I whispered turning back to my math homework. It would be the fifth one this week. Mother sometimes brought home business. She used to be a taxidermist, now all she can do is blow so guy for cash in a back alley. I hated it when she brought business home, I rubbed my wrist. They itched terribly. I wanted it. That calm I had three minutes ago. I shook my head, I couldn’t not today. I wanted to stop. I need to stop. I stood up quickly, thinking maybe I could run away from it. I know I couldn’t. because it always found me. I clenched my fist I couldn’t do it, not tonight. But I didn’t listen to myself. And I sighed as I felt calm wash over me, I stared mindlessly at that light red line that flowed from my elbow down my left forearm and onto my palm. And I forgot where I was, I forgot all the terrible things in my life.

“Marisol!” I jerked, and that wonderful spell was broken and it all rushed back at me. “Get your ass down here and cook dinner!” I sighed, placed the blade under my mattress grabbed a small bit of bandages that I kept in my drawer and left my room.

My name is Marisol Willows, and welcome to my life.