All my life I had been a cutter. Ok, maybe not all my life but it's been long enough for me not to remember when I started. I'm 14 and to be 14 and entering the 8th grade is a complete humiliation. The only reason why I am not a freshman is because my 6th grade teacher held me back because she wanted me to work on my "social skills". Well fuck her. Now I am living the life of a loser. No, that's a lie. I had always been a loser, a target for the popular kids's insults. It hurts sometimes when the harsh words get to me. I try not to let this happen, but sometimes it's hard. It's hard because the words they say are true and I can't deny it. I am a freak, wandering the earth as a mistake of nature. I'm not ugly or anything like that, I'm just...I don't know what I am. I'm fairly pretty, but then again that is my thought. If you think something good about yourself that no one else thinks about you, does it make your thought true? I've been wondering that for some time now, but I have no one to ask. I'm not deformed or slow, like some of the other teens that are picked on. I find myself as a normal girl, well once I was normal. No one knows my secret life of cutting and suicidal thoughts. No one knows my past of getting high and drunk just so guys will fuck me. No one knows the true me...

It was a cool, March day and I awoke with a sharp pain in my thigh. I grasped the area with my hand and groaned in pain. Soon, it went away and I let out a sigh of relief. I rolled over to check the time. It was only 9am but I couldn't sleep any longer. I got out of bed and walked into the bathroom. I looked into dad's bedroom as I walked by and noticed it was empty. This gave me a bit of hope. I hope he drank so much that he walked into oncoming traffic and got killed., I thought to myself. It wasn't the happiest thought but I hadn't really had a good thought in a long time. I looked into the mirror, my reflection staring at me. I brushed my teeth, combed my hair and went back into my room to get dressed.

Nothing happened the whole morning. I was bored, nothing on the internet seemed to entertain me and there was no one to talk to. By noon, dad still hadn't come back from the evening of drinking and I was slightly worried. I was never worried about him and the feeling was quiet new to me. I shook off any possibily of him being hurt and turned on the TV. I groaned and turned it off after I saw that all the channels were either porn or wrestling. Sometimes I wished my father had accidently ordered "Comedy Central" or at least "Cartoon Network". I slumped over on my bed. Sometime gleamed at me from the corner of my eye and I saw it was the razor blade I had used last night. I peered at my arm, the new wound was surrounded by old scars, each bearing a story of it's own. The razor blade, now stained a scarlet red, beckoned me to take it. I did so, and pressed the cold metal onto a smooth, uncut area of my arm. Little beads of blood and begin forming when my front door slammed shut. I hid the blade between to books on my dresser and quickly wiped the blood that formed on my arm. I pulled down the sleeve of my thin sweater and glanced up at my door.

I could hear the footsteps of my father approaching and I braced myself. I wondered if we was going to rape me again or beat me. To my suprise, he passed my room and went into his. I let out a sigh. Slowly, I got up and peered out of the crack of the door. The hallway was clear. I opened the door wider and the smell of alcohol greeted me. I silently crept into his room and saw him lying on his bed, in a deep sleep. I sighed, knowing he had been out partying again. I wondered if he had gotten any woman pregnant again. I had about 7 sisters and 5 brothers, if I remember correctly.

I went back into my room and grabbed the razor blade to put it back into my original hiding spot: under a loose wooden board, under my bed. I hid the blade and resumed my pathetic life of slumping on my bed. I rolled over on my stomach and looked out the window. The weather was nice and sunny but each day is depressing in my pathetic life. I stared as the forest across my street and my mind immediatly went back to the day that my only friend died.

It was a hot day in spring. I had just gotten a sandwich made when the phone rang. It was Katie, my only friend, calling to ask if we could hang out in the forest. I agreed, it seemed like a nice day to go there. We sat under a large tree, enjoying the shade for a while. Then she spilled her guts to me.

"I want to die." She had said. I laughed. When I looked at her, I could see she was serious.

"Why?" I asked, in concern.

"My grades suck, I feel like no one cares for me, my mom is sleeping with every guy while I stay awake at night wondering if she is still alive, every guy hates me, all the popular people pick on me, and I have only one friend." By now she had broken down in tears and I held her for a while until she calmed down.

"Shhh.." I cooed to her. "My life is pretty much the same way, except my dad goes out every night, drinking and then comes home and rapes me. I've had suicidal thoughts also, but please don't kill yourself." She let out a big sob.

"I-I'm sorry, but I can't go on living like this. I-"

"Please! You are my only friend, I think of you each time I want to kill myself. You are the reason I keep on living." My voice had now become a shout and I furiously raised my sleeve, revealing the scars to her. She gasped.

"I'm so sorry, Kristen, I really am. I never knew..." Her voice trailed off as she got up in front of me. She pulled out a gun from her pocket and pointed it to her head. I was too in shock to move. Tears poured from my face.

"Oh god, no!" I screamed as the gun went off. Katie's blood shot out in all directions and her lifeless body fell to the ground. I sat by her body, crying and shaking uncontrolably. Someone found me nearly 3 hours later and called the police.

My thoughts were interupted the squeaking of my door. I saw, the entrance, a large dark figure standing. I could tell it was my dad. He hand was moving violently below and I could see he was masterbating. He groaned and stepped toward me. Usually, I would fight to get away from him, but I was so emotionally drained that I didn't move. He sat down on my bed, a few feet away from me and grabbed my breast. I winced in pain as he began taking off my shirt and the bra underneath. He smiled as he began rubbing my breasts in delight. Soon, he had gotten all my clothes off, and I lay there, naked, as he had his way with me. With each thrust, I could feel myself sink deeper into depression. Finially, the rape had ended.

I got in the shower to remove the nasty semen that was sprayed on me. I scolded myself mentally for letting him do what he did without a fight. I grabbed my shaver and began swiping it across my belly. I watched the blood trickle down my legs and disapear in the draining. I was so pissed at myself for letting this happen again that I punched myself hard in the leg. I nearly fell over in pain. As I got out from the shower, the wound on my stomach was still producing blood. It was dripping down my body fast. I grabbed a towl and wiped up the blood. I pressed it against my stomach, clenching my teeth with the pain. I hadn't even realized how deep the cut had been until I took off the towel. Someone with a kitchen knife could have done that! I pour some peroxide on it and carefully put on my shirt.

I walked back into my room, more slowly because of the pain. I looked into my dad's bedroom and discovered he was gone. I turned around and looked into the living room, he was not there either. When I had searched the whole house for him, I decided he was probably out again. I went into the kitchen and grabbed some chips. Although I would have been eating dinner by now, I wasn't up to making anything. I slowly sat down on my bed and ate some chips. Soon, I was so bored with myself that I took out a small box from my dresser drawer. Inside the box was about 3 or 4 joints of pot and a needle full of herion. I grabbed a joint, lit it, smoked it, and got high.

+So how do you all like the first chapter? I know this has nothing to do with a teacher yet but this chapter is mainly giving you the idea of how her lifestyle is. Please review+