Give Me A Reason To Believe
Leaving It All Behind
I woke up on the floor of my room. I guess I just really wiped out last night guarding my bedroom door.
I didn't want them to get in again. My whole body was aching, I just felt like a giant human bruise. As I stood up, I winced in pain as I turned to face my faded wall mirror.
There was a hole in my jeans where my leg was still bleeding. It literally hurt like hell. My pale eyes had dark red circles around them, and made me look like the awakened dead. After a few deep breaths, i decided to get out of these clothes and take a shower.
The warm water tingled the blood gushing out of my leg, and I watched it spiral down the drain. I got out and wiped away a foggy circle in the mirror. I ran my fingers across my newest bruise etched over my chest. Only the second night in my new home, and they started again.
Well, it shouldn't be my fault that they decide to get drunk on a daily basis, right? I sighed and finished drying myself off, leaving my towel with blotches of blood. I walked over to my dresser pulling out my favorite Iron Maiden t-shirt. Maybe it would help make my first day of school a little better.
Ha. That would be funny.
I slipped it on, careful not to snag my wounds, and reached for my black skinny jeans, rummaging through my closet for a random black jacket. I laced up my converse, walking back in the bathroom to apply my "maybe-this-will-make-me-look-decent" black eyeliner. I walked to the edge of my bed, managing to find my striped messenger bag. I grabbed my usual carry-along-CDs, stuffed them into my bag, and started to reach for my sketchbook on my dresser. I froze.
I saw the cracked picture frame holding the portrait of me and my brother. A hot tear trickled down my cheek. I turned the frame upside down, trying to pull myself together. I grabbed my song book, and walked towards my door, but when my pale fingertips touched the doorknob, another tear trickled. But not for my brother.
For me.
I left my room, and when i got to the kitchen, i discovered no one there. No surprise. I stood for a moment taking in all the silence, and then I heard rustling coming from another room. My heart started beating fast, and I froze hoping no one would come walking out the bedroom door.
When the noises died away, I sprinted out the door as fast as I could and I didn't stop running until I reached the end of my street.
I started walking normally, and suddenly stopped.
There is someone watching me. Someone behind me.
I spun around, not sure what I would find.
Nothing. No one.
I was sure someone was there.
I stood for a moment, and then finally convinced myself to keep walking.
But I couldn't forget. Someone was there. But why would someone would be watching me?
Next thing I know,
School.
I didn't want them to get in again. My whole body was aching, I just felt like a giant human bruise. As I stood up, I winced in pain as I turned to face my faded wall mirror.
There was a hole in my jeans where my leg was still bleeding. It literally hurt like hell. My pale eyes had dark red circles around them, and made me look like the awakened dead. After a few deep breaths, i decided to get out of these clothes and take a shower.
The warm water tingled the blood gushing out of my leg, and I watched it spiral down the drain. I got out and wiped away a foggy circle in the mirror. I ran my fingers across my newest bruise etched over my chest. Only the second night in my new home, and they started again.
Well, it shouldn't be my fault that they decide to get drunk on a daily basis, right? I sighed and finished drying myself off, leaving my towel with blotches of blood. I walked over to my dresser pulling out my favorite Iron Maiden t-shirt. Maybe it would help make my first day of school a little better.
Ha. That would be funny.
I slipped it on, careful not to snag my wounds, and reached for my black skinny jeans, rummaging through my closet for a random black jacket. I laced up my converse, walking back in the bathroom to apply my "maybe-this-will-make-me-look-decent" black eyeliner. I walked to the edge of my bed, managing to find my striped messenger bag. I grabbed my usual carry-along-CDs, stuffed them into my bag, and started to reach for my sketchbook on my dresser. I froze.
I saw the cracked picture frame holding the portrait of me and my brother. A hot tear trickled down my cheek. I turned the frame upside down, trying to pull myself together. I grabbed my song book, and walked towards my door, but when my pale fingertips touched the doorknob, another tear trickled. But not for my brother.
For me.
I left my room, and when i got to the kitchen, i discovered no one there. No surprise. I stood for a moment taking in all the silence, and then I heard rustling coming from another room. My heart started beating fast, and I froze hoping no one would come walking out the bedroom door.
When the noises died away, I sprinted out the door as fast as I could and I didn't stop running until I reached the end of my street.
I started walking normally, and suddenly stopped.
There is someone watching me. Someone behind me.
I spun around, not sure what I would find.
Nothing. No one.
I was sure someone was there.
I stood for a moment, and then finally convinced myself to keep walking.
But I couldn't forget. Someone was there. But why would someone would be watching me?
Next thing I know,
School.