Beautiful Death
An Explanation Of My Sins
I felt the sharp tip dig into my arm and hissed slightly at the pain soon the cool liquid now flowing through my veins took affect and I felt amazing.
“Bella-murte! What do you think you are DOING?!”
Uh must my brother full name me all the time?
Bella-murte, sounds nice huh?
Well we’re half Italian, my father’s side, my mother died giving birth to me and that’s the name my father gave to me “Bella-murte” means beautiful death.
Morbid name isn’t it?
Well fathers reasoning is that I was the beauty from my mothers passing.
Fucking stupid name if you ask me.
“If I’ve told you once I’ve told you a thousand fucking times! My name is Bella! B-E-L-L-A!” I snapped.
“That’s not your Christian name and you know it Bella.” He sighed.
“It’s the name your gonna call me, prick.” I glared.
Well I seem nice don’t I?
Please excuse my behaviour, I always make shit first impressions, and it doesn’t help I’ve just injected the latest drug my boyfriend has supplied me with into my bloodstream.
“Bella, you know this stuff’s bad for you, and so is that guy, what’s happened to you?” he whispered.
Like I could tell him.
Massimo would flip if I ever told him what had driven me to drugs.
He got the better name by the way, mine sounds cooler but his means “the greatest”.
The name alone shows who father favours.
“Like you care, and stop blaming jay for everything I do, I have my own brain you know!” I said viciously.
What I’m saying is true, father blames me for mother’s death and he allows it to show, he’s never beaten me, or made me want for anything, but the warmth and love he has for Massimo has never been shown towards me.
This hurt me deeply and now I do what I can to make the pain disappear.
Massimo and I are twins, but it was me that caused my mother to died, some complication with the way I was positioned led to her having to have a caesarean and well something when wrong and she passed away.
“Bella, we start our new school today, please, try and clean yourself up?” he begged.
I nodded knowing that by the time I reached school the effects would have worn off anyway.
School, huh! Why doesn’t he just say it like it is? We’re off to a rehab facility for minors, of course we’ll be schooled there but it’s not why we’re going.
“Have you finished your packing yet?” I shook my head I hadn’t even started packing, I really should have. Massimo sighed “I’ll help you, come on.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon packing in silence.
Father drove us to rehab.
His goodbyes to Massimo were very emotional; he kept asking where he went wrong, how he screwed up his son, his beautiful baby boy.
You see, Massimo cant stop cutting himself, at our last school - a real school – we were picked on for being Italian, and twins, and for the way we dressed.
I got beat up once and some people held him down and made him watch, that’s when the cutting started.
Father got to me and the goodbyes were simple.
A kiss on each cheek and an “I’ll miss my girl” from father.
Translation into English “I’ll miss my slave”.
Harsh on my father?
I might be, but it’s always been this way and it will never change.
“Bella-murte! What do you think you are DOING?!”
Uh must my brother full name me all the time?
Bella-murte, sounds nice huh?
Well we’re half Italian, my father’s side, my mother died giving birth to me and that’s the name my father gave to me “Bella-murte” means beautiful death.
Morbid name isn’t it?
Well fathers reasoning is that I was the beauty from my mothers passing.
Fucking stupid name if you ask me.
“If I’ve told you once I’ve told you a thousand fucking times! My name is Bella! B-E-L-L-A!” I snapped.
“That’s not your Christian name and you know it Bella.” He sighed.
“It’s the name your gonna call me, prick.” I glared.
Well I seem nice don’t I?
Please excuse my behaviour, I always make shit first impressions, and it doesn’t help I’ve just injected the latest drug my boyfriend has supplied me with into my bloodstream.
“Bella, you know this stuff’s bad for you, and so is that guy, what’s happened to you?” he whispered.
Like I could tell him.
Massimo would flip if I ever told him what had driven me to drugs.
He got the better name by the way, mine sounds cooler but his means “the greatest”.
The name alone shows who father favours.
“Like you care, and stop blaming jay for everything I do, I have my own brain you know!” I said viciously.
What I’m saying is true, father blames me for mother’s death and he allows it to show, he’s never beaten me, or made me want for anything, but the warmth and love he has for Massimo has never been shown towards me.
This hurt me deeply and now I do what I can to make the pain disappear.
Massimo and I are twins, but it was me that caused my mother to died, some complication with the way I was positioned led to her having to have a caesarean and well something when wrong and she passed away.
“Bella, we start our new school today, please, try and clean yourself up?” he begged.
I nodded knowing that by the time I reached school the effects would have worn off anyway.
School, huh! Why doesn’t he just say it like it is? We’re off to a rehab facility for minors, of course we’ll be schooled there but it’s not why we’re going.
“Have you finished your packing yet?” I shook my head I hadn’t even started packing, I really should have. Massimo sighed “I’ll help you, come on.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon packing in silence.
Father drove us to rehab.
His goodbyes to Massimo were very emotional; he kept asking where he went wrong, how he screwed up his son, his beautiful baby boy.
You see, Massimo cant stop cutting himself, at our last school - a real school – we were picked on for being Italian, and twins, and for the way we dressed.
I got beat up once and some people held him down and made him watch, that’s when the cutting started.
Father got to me and the goodbyes were simple.
A kiss on each cheek and an “I’ll miss my girl” from father.
Translation into English “I’ll miss my slave”.
Harsh on my father?
I might be, but it’s always been this way and it will never change.