This is me. Denni. No last name needed. I love to run and write. I love nature and cats, big and small. I love painting, and drawing. I love music; playing it, listening to it, either way. Music is my savior. I am an extreme tomboy. I love to read. I never do anything good enough, according to my parents. I get decent grades. I stopped applying myself to things because it's not worth it. I'm getting lectured or yelled at for it either way. I don't want to be involved in anything anymore. Band annoys me. People annoy me. I've fallen in and out of love, but I've never been in a relationship. I never do or explain anything in the right order, or right at all, as I'm told. My "friends" apparently use me, so much for friendship. I'm never the best at anything. I'm very pessimistic. And I've accumulated an extremely bad attitude in these past few years. Oh, I forgot to mention, I'm only 13. And here we go.

"Danaelle, come here." My mother. What's the lecture going to be this time?

"Mother, my name is not Danaelle. It's Denni," I said as I walked over to her. She was standing in the kitchen, opening the pizza boxes and grabbing two slices of pepperoni for herself.

"Dinner is here." Obviously. She might "love me", but all her and her boyfriend do is eat, sleep, and sit on the computer. I mean, her boyfriend goes to work, but other than that. She doesn't work. She's "disabled", so she can't. I rolled my eyes and cut a slice in half. I took that and a bottle of water and retreated to my room. I was free, for about a half hour.

"Danaelle, come down here and help clean up." Clean what? Seriously, just throw the boxes away. I set the book I had been reading down and went downstairs.

"What?" I said.

"First off, cut the attitude." Attitude? No, that wasn't attitude. But I guess it is now. "Second, clean this mess up. Throw the boxes away and wash the dishes. Clean the litter box, and take the trash out. Then go straight bed. You have school in the morning."

"Mother, I don't have an attitude. I can't go straight to bed, I have homework! If I don't finish my homework, I'll get in trouble!"

"So finish your homework. But you're still going straight to bed when you're done your work."

"Okay, so can I go do my homework now? I'll do my work when I'm done."

"No. Work, then bed." I sighed. It was pointless to argue with her. If I did I'd end up grounded or get yelled at all night. Or, if I push her to her breaking point, I'll end up getting smacked. It rarely gets that far, but it bruises when it does. I picked up the boxes and stuffed them in the garbage bag. I gathered the dishes and set them in the sink. I did the litter box and took the trash out before going back to the dishes. I washed, dried, and put them away. By the time I was done, it was 10. They ordered dinner really late, so I'd stay up late. She would yell at me if I didn't eat dinner with them. Then she'd give me a bunch of things to do, forcing me to get little sleep and not be able to do my homework. I brushed my teeth quickly and grabbed a glass of water. I sighed again as I trudged up the steps to my room.

"I have science, history, and algebra homework. How am I going to finish it all?" I muttered to myself as I laid down in my bed. "Science is second period, algebra third, and history fifth. I'll have to get my science done in first period, art. Hopefully my algebra, too. History can wait. Since it's after lunch, I can do it during lunch." I heard the stairs creaking and quickly pretended to be asleep. I squinted my eyes unnoticeably and saw my mother at my door, making sure I wasn't up doing homework. She wants me to fail, I swear, just so she can yell at me some more. Ever since her mother died, she's been drinking more, smoking more, yelling more, and eating more. She's bipolar, which doesn't help, and depressed. But she shouldn't take everything out on me. I sat there with a bunch of thoughts running through my head. The last thing I heard was my mother bed creak as she laid down in her bed to sleep.

"Finally, I can get out of here." It was Tuesday morning and I rushed out the door. My mother was sitting on the back porch smoking, so I ran before she saw me and stopped me. I have a half hour before school actually starts and since I run, I'll get there in twenty minutes. Then I get a head-start on my homework. I run to school every morning; it's a habit. I reached the school with my ten minutes to spare, which I spent on the wonderful science work. I sat down on a bench and pulled out my science book. I started writing quickly and as neat as I could. The bell rang and I rushed to art.

If I finished my project, which I was almost done with, I could spend the time I need to write the other half of my science report. I continued painting my drawing of a heart with the aorta ripped off and blood spilling everywhere on the page. I finished that in the first twenty-five minutes of class. I had already done all the detail. I hung it up to dry and pulled out my book again.

I finished scribbling the report on the different types of medical plants. I checked for spelling and grammar errors and put it in my folder. I'd have to staple it in science because my art teacher doesn't let us use her stapler. I snatched my sketch book from my bag and drew for the rest of the period.

The bell rang. I pushed through the mob of middle school kids and jumped up the steps to my top floor science class. I stapled my report and handed it in. My teacher took it, looked at it, and handed it back to me.

"Aren't you going to grade it?" I asked.

"Yes. But you get to present it. You're first." I took a deep breath as the class settled in. My teacher started to talk.

"Each of you will present your report in front of the class, and then I will grade it. When Denni is done, she will choose who goes next. Go on," she said, turning to me.

"Our world is home to many different types of plants..." I continued until everyone half-heartedly clapped and I chose the next person. I sat down and listened to kid after kid drone on; their reports as boring as mine had been. Through glances from my book to the kid in the front talking, and back to my book, I managed to finish my algebra homework.

"No homework tonight!" my teacher called as we rushed out. Good, one less thing to worry about. I hauled myself to my algebra class and listened to the teacher as she talked about pi. We handed in our homework, and were handed a new assignment. I used the remaining time in class to finish that, which I surprisingly managed to do. My fourth period was music, and passed really fast.

"Lunch time," I thought to myself as I pushed through the cafeteria doors. I went straight to my table, where I sat with one other kid. My friend, Alex. He was pretty cool. I pulled out my history book as he sat down beside me.

"Do you ever eat?" he asked again. He asks me that every day. I guess he doesn't believe me.

"Yes Alex. I eat at home. I don't trust the school food." I read the section on the Aztecs and answered the questions at the end. I closed my book and put it away. History was always pretty short when it came to homework.

"Just finishing your history again Denni?" I nodded.

"Yeah, I was up late again and never got it finished."

"You ready for fifth and sixth period? History and Spanish."

"No. Not at all."

"Hey, do you think I could come over today?" I shook my head.

"No, sorry. I'm really busy today. Maybe some other time. I'll ask and see when I'm not busy."

"Okay." We suffered through history and Spanish and bolted out the doors at final bell. I ran home, with absolutely no homework to worry about. Unfortunately, I came home to a rabid mother and a mess. I tried sneaking my way into my room without her noticing me. Fail.

"DANAELLE!" she screamed. I jumped. "GET OUT HERE!" I walked slowly to the kitchen where she was. I stood there, scared, but didn't really show it. Garbage was everywhere.

"Why are you just standing there? Get to work!" I shrunk away as she passed me, and quickly got to work. I threw all the garbage back into a bag. Where did it all come from? I went back to my mother for the rest of my chores. I seriously felt like Cinderella without the happy ending. My mother handed me a list of things to do. I looked everything over.

"Do the dishes. Clean the TV room, the kitchen, and bathroom. You are to scrub the floors in the bathroom and kitchen. Clean the sinks, the tub, shower, and toilet. This must be done by the time I get up at 8 for dinner. Don't disturb me and NO music. If you're not done, there will be consequences," I read out loud. I looked in the TV room. Sure enough, my mother had gone upstairs to bed. I got to work.

I couldn't get out of it, even if I left. I'd have to come back eventually. I did the dishes first. When I was finished, I got down on my hands and knees with a bucket of ammonia, a scrub brush, and a mask. Ammonia smells horrible. I scrubbed the linoleum in the kitchen and bathroom. The toilet was clogged. I don't want to know what happened there. I unclogged it and scrubbed it out. I did the same with the tub and the sink in the bathroom. I walked back into the now dried kitchen and cleaned that sink. I dumped the ammonia water out and washed my hands. I finished at 7:30. So close. I vacuumed the carpet in the TV room for good measure. I heard my mother coming down the steps. The door bell rang.

"Danaelle, get that. It's dinner." I walked over to the door with money to pay. The guys looked at my scruffy look and looked at me pitifully.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"It's okay. I'm used to it," I whispered back. I paid him and took the Italian hoagies my mother had ordered from him. I set them on the table in front of my mother and her boyfriend, and took mine.

"We're going to be eating without you tomorrow, so I suggest saving some of that hoagie if you want to eat." I nodded. I took like an eight of the hoagie to eat and put the rest away. I brushed my teeth, grabbed a bottle of water, and went to my room. Tonight they'd let me sleep, knowing it wouldn't matter if I did or not. I made a slight typo in my story and watched the ink run. I washed it off and fell asleep.

My alarm went off at 5:45 am. I got up and showered and dressed in a black tee, black shorts, and black vans. I put in my black tapers, and I slipped on a neon green studded belt. I trudged out of the house, half-asleep. I went to the park with my school stuff and my notebook. I started writing.

This isn't a bump in the road.

This is an empty abyss torn into the pages of my life story.

Another tear fallen;

A bloody typo that can't be fixed

But I have to keep writing until the end.

Writing helped keep the pain at bay. There is something about putting it on paper that is just beautiful. It makes me feel better about myself. That I can do something and it's actually beautiful. I checked my phone for the time. It was about 6:30. I got up, turned my iPod on, and walked around the park, listening to music. School starts at 8, it'll take about 45 minutes to get there, so I had 45 minutes to waste here. After a while, I started running to the school. Yes, the park is really that far away. I caught my breath at a light and ran across the street. I cut onto the back roads the rest of the way to the school. I grabbed my books and slammed my locker. I pushed through everyone and went to class. In lunch, Alex met me at the table like usual, except I was fuming.

"Den, what's wrong?" Alex asked. I shook my head. I don't know.

"I don't know. I don't know." I said through gritted teeth to keep from yelling. I was shaking hard. Alex went to another table and came back a minute later with someone. I wasn't sure who though.

"Den, calm down. Come on; let's skip the rest of the day. Let's go." He pulled me out to the "bathroom". We went outside and he dragged me far away from everyone and everything. Once we were deep in the woods, he let me go. I looked at the other person and realized it was Chris.

"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit," I said. The boys looked at me.

"Den, seriously. What's wrong?" Chris asked.

"I don't know. I. Don't. Know." I really didn't know what the hell was wrong with me. I sat down and pulled my knees to my chest. The boys sat down on either side of me. "Chris, Alex. What's wrong with me?" I asked. They didn't answer.

"Den, calm down. Alex, I think she's having a breakdown. Reliving everything in the back of her mind, even though she has no idea what's happening." How can I be thinking something and not realize it?

"So what do we do? Wait until it passes and make sure she doesn't do anything stupid?" Chris nodded. I sat there, rocking back and forth. Visions started blurring in my head. I cried out in fright. Chris grabbed me and held me. I started shaking worse and crying out louder. Chris held back my flailing limbs. I tried breaking free of his grip, but Alex grabbed me as well. I shook in their arms, crying heavily. I backed up against a tree and slid down to the ground.

"Den?" Chris asked.

"Yeah?" I choked out.

"You okay?"

"No."