Status: Active. Updated whenever I have time :)
You're Not Alone, We'll Brave This Storm
Prologue
I can’t quite remember when it started. When my dad started beating me. I think it was when my mom and sister died in a car accident and I survived.
I was only seven years old at the time but I can still remember the pain. The excruciating pain I was in. That’s all I remember other than hearing screaming. Whose screaming I still don’t know.
I woke up in the hospital with two broken ribs, a broken ankle, and a deep cut on my back that goes from shoulder to hip. I can still remember the utter loathing on his face when my father told me that I was the only survivor of the crash.
Ever since then all he’s done is drink, do drugs, have sex with cheap whores, and hit me whenever he has the chance. I have scars littering my body from the beatings and a scar of the cut I got in the crash on my back. Although the ones on my wrist are mainly from me.
Yes, I do cut. It’s the only way I can deal with being in this hellhole. I only have one more year of this shit and then I’m done. One more year before I’m done with this bastard that I call my father, with the abuse, and with the kids at school.
Not only do I have to deal with the abuse at home, but I also have to deal with it at school. I’m considered an ‘emo freak’ at my school. All because I wear black instead of pink, Hot Topic instead of Hollister, listen to hard rock and metal instead of pop and rap. It doesn’t help that I’m a skinny, fragile looking, quiet, 4’11 girl. I’m the perfect target.
I’m used to it though. I just listen to music and stay out the way. I try to keep a low profile. I have very few things I come out of my shell for.
The art and music teacher’s are the only teachers in school who care. They’re the only ones who talk to me at school other than to yell insults at me. It’s pathetic but I’ve known them for forever and they’re both young. They don’t know about the cutting or abuse; no one does, but they always try to help me at school. The other teachers normally join in on the verbal abuse so they are the only ones who do help me at school.
I was just the short, quiet girl who wore black and sat in the corner, listening to music, trying to drown out the world. The girl who wore hoodies all year long to hide the bruises and scars. The friendless girl who got beaten and abused. The girl who only really loved music, skateboarding and the very few friends she had.
Until they came. Until they changed everything. Until I fell for him.
I was only seven years old at the time but I can still remember the pain. The excruciating pain I was in. That’s all I remember other than hearing screaming. Whose screaming I still don’t know.
I woke up in the hospital with two broken ribs, a broken ankle, and a deep cut on my back that goes from shoulder to hip. I can still remember the utter loathing on his face when my father told me that I was the only survivor of the crash.
Ever since then all he’s done is drink, do drugs, have sex with cheap whores, and hit me whenever he has the chance. I have scars littering my body from the beatings and a scar of the cut I got in the crash on my back. Although the ones on my wrist are mainly from me.
Yes, I do cut. It’s the only way I can deal with being in this hellhole. I only have one more year of this shit and then I’m done. One more year before I’m done with this bastard that I call my father, with the abuse, and with the kids at school.
Not only do I have to deal with the abuse at home, but I also have to deal with it at school. I’m considered an ‘emo freak’ at my school. All because I wear black instead of pink, Hot Topic instead of Hollister, listen to hard rock and metal instead of pop and rap. It doesn’t help that I’m a skinny, fragile looking, quiet, 4’11 girl. I’m the perfect target.
I’m used to it though. I just listen to music and stay out the way. I try to keep a low profile. I have very few things I come out of my shell for.
The art and music teacher’s are the only teachers in school who care. They’re the only ones who talk to me at school other than to yell insults at me. It’s pathetic but I’ve known them for forever and they’re both young. They don’t know about the cutting or abuse; no one does, but they always try to help me at school. The other teachers normally join in on the verbal abuse so they are the only ones who do help me at school.
I was just the short, quiet girl who wore black and sat in the corner, listening to music, trying to drown out the world. The girl who wore hoodies all year long to hide the bruises and scars. The friendless girl who got beaten and abused. The girl who only really loved music, skateboarding and the very few friends she had.
Until they came. Until they changed everything. Until I fell for him.
♠ ♠ ♠
So how was it? I’m sorry if it’s bad. It’s my first story on here and I’m only 13. For a few chapters it probably won’t have much dialogue because they are mainly explaining things. When the dialogue does come in though, it probably won’t be that good because I suck at it. Sorry.Comment/Subscribe <3