heres the first possible chapter..

          If I say I love you then I like you, If I say I like you I’m only being nice, when I say don’t leave me I mean I love you.



I’m taking my life one day at a time and coming with reasons to stay every hour. I really can’t explain how I feel right now, it’s that empty feeling you get when everything in your life seems to be going downhill and you have nothing left...I guess this feeling is normal for me since I’ve been dealing with it for the past seven years. Before then things were normal for me. I had the perfect life. I had a loving mother and father; a beautiful house with a dog and cat; no enemies only close friends. All that changed when he left me in the summer of 2009 though. I gave him my heart but he went and broke it. Literally ripped it out and shredded it to pieces after he had stitched it up from the pain from the past. It went downhill after that...Mother lost her job, father became an alcoholic and hit us. I would walk through school with my head down to hide the tears, I covered up the scars and bruises with wristbands and sleeves. My friends would ask me what was wrong but I would just say it was stress. If one of them saw my wounds I would smile and tell them I was just being clumsy and fell out of a tree. The act worked until people started assuming I was cutting myself which made things even worse. Father got a call from the school, he told mother and she burst into tears that day. They both drank later that night to the point of delusion. At that moment I became the enemy. A 14 year old girl at the mercy of her peers, there was no way out. All I could do was cry and cover my face. I don’t even remember the rest of that night except I woke up outside on the lawn. I was a bloody mess, I felt the back of head and felt a patch of hair missing, there was a taste of copper in my mouth, and a pungent stench of dried up blood wafted inside my nose. I didn’t even want to look at myself, for that is how I felt myself to be. A child with no hope for salvation. That’s how it was meant to be. My mother began the same routine as father; go out during the day and get high, go out at night and get drunk, then come back home and cause hell. They sent me to see the therapist many times to see why I was a problem child, and every therapist would ask to see my arms. If I refused they would ask why. I would tell them it was from a tree. I knew they didn’t buy it but if it kept my father from prison then so be it...I just wanted to be a good daughter…so many counselors asked if I had been using drugs or had been feeling depressed or anger at all. Every time it would be the same response “don’t worry it’s just stress”. I had no hope left but I didn’t want to worry the people I cared for…that’s just me though, I hated seeing sad looks up their faces even though they all had assumed I was psychotic. Every day became more grudgingly worse than the last. You may have thought me the odd child but you didn’t even know me so you if you said anything I’m 100% sure you would be wrong. I began to lose all my friends and by the end of winter break I was alone in this place we call home. I really didn’t care, I just wanted it all to end but then I met him…