Forgotten Faces

I stayed in my room for who knows how long. I just sat there on my bed, wondering why it had to happen. Why did Justin want to do this? Why did I have to be the one he grabbed? Did I do something wrong along the years?

I cried and cried. I cried until my eyes hurt, and when it was hard to breathe. I cried until I felt there was nothing more to come out of me.

I still felt so dirty. I felt so used. I should've been used to feeling like this though.

I began to scratch at myself, hoping to scratch away the disgusting feeling that was all over my body. I could feel the pain, but I didn't care at this point.

My parents wouldn't come and stop me. They just this all as a phase that every teen aged girl goes through one way or another.

"Quit crying," I mumbled.

I cleared my throat, and I tried my best to put my hair in the proper places.

I quickly ran over to my mirror. I looked over myself. I looked so disgustingly ugly and dirty.

Just by looking in the mirror, I could call myself a whore. I was nothing more than that. But my question was: could I ever not be a whore? Was there ever going to be an even in my life to change anything and possibly everything?

I felt the tears begin to fall again. I was so pathetic, and I couldn't help it one bit.

"It would be better, if I were dead." I whispered.

I opened my dresser's drawer. I slowly moved the multiple pairs of jeans until I got to it. I just stared at it, at first.

I slowly picked it up, and I studied it. It's straight edge could end everything for me. It's shiny blade was everything I needed right now.

I sighed as I put the razor back. I didn't even know why I had that in my dresser. I was never going to use it. I never had the courage to use it.

I slammed my drawer shut, and I walked over to my bed, sitting on it.

I sighed, as I laid down. I made myself huddle together into a little ball. I closed my eyes, pretending to be elsewhere.

What would it be like to be somewhere else? I would love to visit Spain. I would love to visit anywhere but here.

What if someone had rescued me? Would I be happy right now? Or would I still be wondering about many different things that inhabited my life?

Was I really that selfish that I would complain about everything, any way I had it? Or was that just my human nature?

I would give anything to have someone here, to tell me that everything was going to be fine. I wanted someone to say, "Don't worry. Be happy."

"Don't worry. Be happy." I muttered.

I felt another tear fall down my cheek, and I bit down on my lip.

I was hopeless.