At a young age the girl had lost herself in her books because it became all she had. She traveled to different worlds far away from the anger and resentment that she felt. She hated the fights of her parents that ended with only her tears. She hated that they acted like everything was fine in public when it wasn't. That she had to smile when at only 6 it felt like she was dying. So she would go to school and sit there with the books ignoring the kids around her. Slowly isolating herself and retreating into a world that was all her own. There was no pain here, there was no hurt here. Only bewilderment and awe. After a while all she would do was go home walk into her room and lock the door behind her.. There was no more how was your day at school honey. She unlocked the door and locked the room door behind her. Her mother didn't know that she was getting bullied at school but she should have. The girl resented her for not knowing for never paying attention but always giving love out to her sisters.
At eleven, she began cutting because she just couldn't take it. Little scars inside her forearm that her mother never noticed. Almost desperately, almost always crying out for attention. Until the scars became bigger scars and the kids at school asked questions. She would giggle and laugh saying that her cats like to scratch. Her classmates knew what they were, the teachers knew what they were. no No one spoke up for the girl or asked what was wrong. So she cut more until she felt her feelings leave her. The depression and suicidal thoughts that kept on rising. She tried escaping the world around her but books weren't enough and singing at the top of her lungs wasn't enough.
At twelve, she snuck into her moms room and downed the rum she kept hidden under her bed. Her throat burned but at least she felt the burn. She felt something. She laughed and danced so much that day and still her mom suspected nothing. For just that moment the girl had felt happiness and always found herself reaching for that bottle when she needed it. The magical bottle that let her experience emotions and vivid colors. The world around her had become too gray and she couldn't feel the way she used to.
At fourteen, the bottle wasn't enough so she looked for love. On websites where men appreciated her so unlike her father. Talking of dalliances although she was an innocent. Technically an innocent besides for the man at 8 the monster she never spoke about ever. There were so many men so much older and worldly. She liked that they liked her even if it was only for her body. They gave her a sense of gratification she had never found. So she found herself using them and them using her in degrading ways. So she thought ahhh this must be what love is. This must be what love feels like. She got too accustomed though to the degradation until it rooted to deeply into her soul. Along with the depression and low self esteem that had always been there keeping her company. She had attached demons to herself. Demons she had tried to silence by herself too many times in the night. She couldn't do it because she was a coward, she was always too afraid to take the final step. Too afraid to jump or to take the knife she held in her trembling hands to her wrist. So she stayed there for a while cursing God and this godforsaken existence he had inflicted upon her.
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