I stared out of my bedroom window as the rain poured down, the wind throwing it randomly into the glass and the both close and distant rolls of thunder creating the depressing symphony playing in my darkened room. Part of me longed to go out there into the rain and just simply disappear into the stormy night. Part of me didn't think that it could be much worse out there at the mercy of the elements compared to in here in the relative safety of my father's house. My eyes traveled from the window, back to the piece of metal that kept glinting in the flickers of lightning.

Yes, the piece of metal was a razor blade that I had taken from a disposable razor I found in the bathroom. Yes, the thoughts running through my head were definitely along the lines of pressing that blade into the pale flesh of my wrists and cutting until there was no hope of stemming the flow. No, I'm not some depressed teenager who is looking for attention, nor am I one of those people who gets off on the feel of pain or the taste of blood. The truth is, I want to escape. I want to get away from this house, the person who lives in it, the people I see on a daily basis. Yes, all I want is to escape.

I'm not going to tell you that my life is miserable, although it is, at least as far as I am concerned. I'm not going to tell you that my father is a horrible alcoholic who smacks me around and on occasion sneaks into my room at night to do things to me no father should ever do to their child, although he does and I hate him for it. I'm not going to tell you that my mother never wanted me, the product of being raped by my father, and abandoned me with the man who raped her, although she did just that. I'm not going to tell you that in the one place I should feel safe, school, that everyone looks at me as if they know all my dirty little secrets, which they do and it makes me feel all that much more disgusted with myself.

All I want is to escape it all. All of the pain, the tears, the misery. I just want to live a normal life, like a normal teen, in a normal house, with a normal family. I want to feel normal, not dirty, not disgusting, not defective. In school, I never speak. No one talks to me, not even the teachers. It's like they know that I won't answer them, no matter how many times they ask. A teacher once tried to get me to talk to the school counselor, having the impression that there was something I wouldn't talk to just anyone about. In the end though, both that teacher and the counselor gave up on trying to get anything out of me. I wasn't about to spill all my secrets to a stranger, even if they were there to help students like me.

The storm outside doesn't mirror my emotions at all. I'm not filled with swirling emotions. It's not like I'm caught trying to decide whether to confess my feelings to someone I like because I fear their rejection. No, rejection isn't my fear. I fear someone knowing me. I fear someone finding out the things that I hide. I don't want a relationship built on lies and any relationship I enter would end up that way. I can't tell anyone what happens when I go home. No, the secrets of this house will go to the grave with me. No one will ever know that my father is the serial rapist that the cops have been looking for for years. No one will ever know that my own mother could have prevented so many other women from being raped, as she was the only person who could ever identify him.

No, everything was my burden to bear, but I don't want it anymore. I want to escape from having to keep these secrets, from being violated, from being hurt. This thin piece of metal could grant me my escape, if I have the nerve to do it, to pull it across my flesh. I could escape so easily from the hell I live in as easily as this blade could cause the crimson liquid within my body to flow freely and escape its human container. Am I even human anymore? I don't know if I am, I feel more like an animated doll that simply goes through the motions of being human. Yes, I'm definitely more like a doll, keeping the secrets of my life hidden behind sewn on lips and glassy eyes that only reflect the world outside and not the one within myself.

Slowly I pick up the blade, twisting it between my fingers before hovering it over my wrist. I stared at the pale skin, the blue veins lying just under the surface, the de-oxygenated blood flowing through them. It would be so simple. Press the blade to the skin with as much strength as I can and then pull it down, hard and fast. It was so simple, so why was I hesitating? Don't I want to escape? Don't I want to put an end to my nightmare?

I sighed softly and placed the blade into my desk drawer. I wasn't strong enough this time, but maybe next time I would be. Maybe when the next storm rolls in, I will have enough strength to escape my life. Maybe, but for now, I'm tired. I just want to sleep the dark, dreamless sleep that always comes when the rains do. Laying back against my pillow, I let my eyes drift shut, the symphony of the storm raging outside lulling me into the sleep that I desired, needed. In the morning, I would go to school as I normally do, go through the automated motions that I always do, and hope somewhere deep in my forgotten heart that something might finally change.