My Way Home Is Through You (Saints Protect Her Now)

I clutched tightly on the sheets, holding in my everything that wanted to scream out of me. I was in so much pain that it numbed my body and helped me get threw what I was going through. I wanted to have someone come in the room unexpectedly, see what was going on, and help me. I wanted to be helped but I didn't know how to get it. My only defense was to stay still and not move; the more I moved, the more it turned him on.

He moaned, panted, and thrusted as I kept my eyes on the ceiling, as if I were in a coma or in serious shock, but it actually wasn't like that. I went through this torture everyday since I met Rob, so I was use to the sexual abuse, and after a while, it started not to hurt me physically with the help of a needle and my drug of choice.

He moaned out one last final time as he released in me, quickly collapsing beside me in a heap of heavy breaths and pants. I kept my eyes on the ceiling, feeling disgusted and worthless. The only thing about this that I was somewhat happy about, was the fact he would always use a condom, in fear that he would pregnant me and have to figure out away to lie to the orphanage to not get himself questioned, since he was one of the only guys I would see there on a regular basis; there was no one else for them to question other than him.

I could feel him staring at my lifeless body as I kept my gaze on the ceiling. He put his hand on my thigh and asked, "Why don't you ever get into it?"

I paused as I stared at the ceiling as I thought about his question slowly, trying to figure out how this man could not understand the damage he was doing to me. I slowly turned my head to him and blinked a few times into reality.

"Do you know what you've done to me?" I asked in a state of shock as I tried to shake off what he had just finished doing.

He stared at me for a while before responding, "I'm helping you forget the stress in your life..." he grabbed onto my arm, squeezing it tightly in his grip, making me tense up; "If you could only understand what I do for you," he said as he gritted his teeth, squeezing harder.

"Let go of me, Rob!" I pleaded, trying to pull my arm away from his grip, "I need to go to the washroom, let go!" I shot at him.

He eventually let go after watching me struggle for a few more seconds. I looked at him before getting up and putting my over-sized pajama shirt on and walked across the hotel room as I made my way into the only washroom.

"Kenzie, you know, a few pounds would look good on you!" he called out before I closed the door and slid down the door, letting my knees come to my chest as I sat there, trying to get in touch with my sanity again.

"Kenzie! Come on! I promise I can make it worth your wild! It's our second last night together, I'll treat you and lick your cl--"

I faded his voice away by turning on the washroom vent, hoping it drained him out and let me get myself back together. I clutched my head in my hands, trying to get the images of what he had done out of there.

I felt disgusted with myself and what I allowed for the past five years. He loved that I would never say a word to anyone else about what he would do to me, but I could never forget how he told me he would kill me if I were to say one word to anybody about it. I just had to compromise with myself and let him do whatever he wanted to me as long as I was able to leave freely when I had the chance to; and finally, my chance came as long as I got through this weekend.

"YOU'RE NOT THROWING UP IN THERE, ARE YOU?!" he yelled, banging on the door as I kept my head on my knees, "You need to gain weight, fucker," he mumbled. He had the most dramatic mood swings I had ever seen which caused him to either be a nice guy or the abusive monster that did more to me than just rape me.

To be honest, the reason why I would never gain a single pound again is because that's what he wants! It's what he finds attractive on other woman; not chubby though not skinny neither, and to my understanding of what other people told me, I was beyond skinny. I wasn't one to throw up every time I would eat something though, to be honest, I just didn't want to eat - I lost my entire appetite do to him. I could only imagine what Gerard was thinking yesterday as he kept his arm around my tiny waist. It made me paranoid just thinking about what was going through his mind.

I slowly got on my knees and opened the door a crack to see if Rob was around; he wasn't. He was probably laying on the bed, waiting for me, or he could have been fixing something to eat in the small kitchen. My plan wasn't to peak my head out and make sure Rob wasn't waiting for me, in stead, I wanted my bag - I needed the stuff that was stashed away deeply in my bag.

I reached my hand over to the wooden chair that was standing randomly by the washroom door where my big traveling bag was lying. Once I had snatched it, I closed the door, locked it, sat back on the floor in front of the door, and rummaged through the stuff I had put in there. I pushed my wallet, door keys, cell phone, Ipod, cover-up and eyeliner to the side until I found my therapy.

"Ouch! Fuck!" I whispered harshly, stabbing myself in the hand with the needle I was looking for; It's not the first time my choice of therapy went against me.

I sighed as I looked down at my bleeding hand, somewhat admiring the blood that poured from the small stab wound. It seemed like the smaller the wound, the more it bled do to the impact that came from the object that caused it to bleed. I couldn't help but admire the blood since it made me realize that I was human and did deserve something better in life, not that I was going to get it.

I grabbed a tissue and put impact on the cut to help it stop bleeding. I let the tissue stick to my hand as I grabbed out my syringe, my spoon I kept around with me in case I didn't make any back up heroine to shoot up when in situations like this one, my lighter, a little plastic tube, and a cotton ball.

I went over to the sink and allowed warm water to drip into the plastic tube as I quickly threw the bag on the top of the garbage can lid. I sat back down on the tiled floor and dropped some of the water onto the spoon and quickly grabbed my lighter on the floor, and let the flame heat up the water from the bottom of the spoon before I mixed in the heroine to the water. I sprinkled the heroine into the warm water and put the lighter back under the spoon, letting the water dissolve and mix into the drug.

When the process had finished, I grabbed my cotton ball and put it on the spoon in the puddle of water, letting the cotton absorb the moisture so the heroine didn't carry in bad germs or bacteria before I injected it in myself. I quickly grabbed my syringe and slowly pulled back the plunger of the needle and watched it as the empty tube filled up with the liquid.

Once the needle was ready, I was too. I took in a deep breath and slowly let the needle go through my skin and process into the vein in my arm. I bit my lip as I injected it in slowly until there was no more liquid in the tube. I allowed myself to let out a few tears as I realized what I had become and what I was faced with in the next room.

I pulled out the syringe and placed it back in my bag along with my other tools I used for this moment. I let my head hit the back of the door as I stared up at the washroom light, letting the liquid flow through my bloodstream and allow it to do it's dirty work.

My head was spinning with such pain that it was numb. I felt so calm and relaxed, but at the same time, I wanted to run a marathon and dance and mosh until day break. I was free from my stress and ready to conquer the world until it killed me.

I slowly got back onto my feet and looked at myself in the mirror above the sink. I looked the same except more dazed out than usual. I glared at my reflection as the person in the mirror glared back at me. She was a mess and a waste of breath and space on the earth; her ugly, long, dark brown hair in her face, her darkened, shadowed eyes, her pointed nose, her pale ivory skin, and her brown dilated eyes were nothing but a waste of a human and just pathetic. She was pathetic.

"You're fucking ugly!" I spat out at the girl in the mirror; "You should have fucking killed yourself along time ago, you pathetic piece of shit!"

As if the reflection was going to answer, I waited for a response that wasn't going to happen. Looking at myself made me feel as if I wasn't even connected to the person in the mirror, as if she was going to walk around and do her own thing, as if she wasn't me at all.

"You have a razor in your bag, why don't you just get your life over with?" she said to me, making me glare even more and want to punch the mirror in, "Fucking Hell, you should have done it long ago."

I began to hyperventilate as the girl in the mirror smirked at me and looked me up and down as if she knew I was going to act up on her words. I quickly covered my face and pushed my back onto the door again, yelling into my hands; "IT'S A TEST! This weekend is only a test!"

"How could you ever get over what you've become?! You're an anorexic, sexually abused, physically abused, lost, suicidal, heroine-addict, mentally sick, faithless, abandoned teenager!" said my reflection as I kept myself hidden by my hands.

I peaked through the cracks of my fingers at the twin who was trying to intimidate me. She was not my reflection - she might have looked like me - but she wasn't doing what I was doing, she was something evil, trying to get me to kill myself before the weekend was over.

"YOU. ARE. WORTHLESS." screamed the girl in the mirror, picking up a vase off the sink and pitching it at the mirror until it shattered into tiny bits, making me think it was going to go threw and hit me.

I screamed loudly and turned my body to leave the bathroom and run out of the hotel. Once I had opened the washroom door, I found myself in arms - warm arms - something I haven't felt in years. As hard as it was for me to believe it at first, I had figured out they were his arms - Frankie's arms.

I looked up and was staring into the face of the boy I left behind five years ago - he had not aged but was just how I remembered him from his sweet teenage face to the shirt he was wearing the last time I saw him. He had the same dark brown hair, the most amazing memorizing eyes, the nicest softest skin, and the most reassuring smile he could ever spread across his face.

I stared up at him, wanting to burst out in tears that were held up for so long. I ran my fingers across his face slowly until they reached his lips and I ran my fingers over them until they ran down his neck and into his soft hair. He was my protection even if he wasn't around, because I always remembered and felt him around even for the years I was locked up in my own cell.

"You're here..." I spoke softly, watching his eyes as they lit up at my soothing voice and thumb stroking his cheek. He let his tiny smile play across his lips at me and I wanted nothing more than this moment - this moment of happiness.

Frankie slowly peaked his eyes into the washroom, spotting my syringe falling out of my bag, and then he quickly eyed me again, letting his smile fade into a frown and allow his head to fall and look down at the floor in complete sadness.

"Frankie, no, don't be upset. I don't want you to be upset with me, please..." I pleaded, almost allowing tears to escape my eyes. "Frankie, please..." I tried lifting his face to look at me.

"This is only a test," said that same voice but from behind me as she laughed, causing me to turn around and look at the mirror that was no longer smashed into pieces, and all I saw was my reflection, holding up a razor to her wrist and starting to slit slowly.

I jumped at the sight of myself killing myself in the mirror and I jumped back and closed my eyes tightly until the laughter of my own voice went away. When it did, I opened my eyes, only to see myself in the mirror as I was: standing outside the washroom at the door where me and Frankie once stood, except it was only me.

I turned myself to look at where Frankie was standing only to see nothing in front of me other than a table with a vase on top of it in the distance. I knew it was only my head and the heroine messing with me.

I leaned my body on the door frame and kept replaying Frankie's face in my head as he looked at me and smiled and then looked away sadly as he noticed what I had done; how hurt he looked really got to me and tore me inside. I had to keep reminding myself that it wasn't real and he wasn't standing there, just like how my reflection was not trying to kill me.

"You ready?" Robs voice surprised me from beside me.

I slowly looked up at him with sad eyes and nodded quickly. I watched him walk back to the bedroom, and once he was out of my sight, I went back to the place where I stood when I was being held in Frankie's arms, and I put my hand to where his head was as I pretended to stroke his cheek with my thumb again.

I paused, knowing nothing was going to happen and I wasn't going to bring him back. I slowly shuffled my feet back into the bedroom.