The Lost Girl

Chapter One

Authors note: The video above is a musical meant to set the mood for this story. Please leave comments and vote!!! Thank you so much for reading! Enjoy!

And that was it. It was over. It was if....as if my very soul had been pierced. As if.... I had entered into an indescribable void. A void...in which I was blind. A void in which I was lost. It was if the darkness of the void had blinded me. I could not see, I could not dream.... I could only remember. My heart had died. It had been cast away forever into this void... this empty, heartbreaking void, this oblivion. My life.....it was pointless. I had no meaning. I was a mistake. I was and evolutionary experiment that had failed. I was a failure. My one goal, my one purpose, was over. I would never have another 'chance.' I was trapped. I was trapped in my own body, my own mind. What is reality? What is the purpose of this life? What is the reason for enduring this? No one cares, so why even try? Why spend a lifetime living in strife, holding back your pain, your agony because you are scared that the word will find the real you, the real you who no one ever sees, the real you who no one cares about, the real you that no one would trust, the real you who no one knows? What's the point of it all when you just die in the end? What's the point when your purpose for living had been destroyed? Is it even worth it?

My knees sunk to the floor. My head leaned back on my shoulders. My tears streamed down my face. My mouth gaped open in agony. My fists pounded on the wall. My shoulders racked with the emotions racing through me. It felt like I was alone. I would never open up my door. I would never let anyone in. I won't let anyone have the opportunity to hurt me. I was lost in a pool of my own hatred. It felt like I was drowning. I could almost hear my heart screaming to be free, to be free of this life. I felt like a part of me was missing. It felt like a was only half of a person. I could see the blood of my own knuckles streaked against the wall. I could feel my skin begin to tear. I could see the bones cracking through my flesh. I could see pain written on my face through the reflection of a pool of my own tears forming on the ground. I needed to get out.

I could hear my door creaking opened. I could see lights flashing outside. I could see blurred faces rushing me outside. Urgent voices echoed around me. I could feel hands pressing against my chest. I could feel a needle piercing my skin. My screams burned my throat. My body thrashed around. My fists flew at anything in their path. I heard a muffled scream as I felt my hands a feel being bound by something. I could not think coherently. My thoughts flashed back to when I was young. I remembered the anger, the suffering of my childhood. I remember the yelling, the screaming, the pain, the pills, the smells of liquor and alcohol. I remembered the abuse, the torture, the hands always ready to strike. I remembered the mockery, I remembered the faces of the people who killed part of my soul. I remembered the people who I loved telling me how much they loved my with their faces twisted up into a mangled gin. I remembered sitting in my home with people I barely knew. I remembered the pills that had controlled their life for so long. I remembered the party that had taken their lives. I remembered wearing black to sit at a funeral of the people who had stolen everything from me. I remembered driving in a car to a new family. I remembered voices whispering into my ears that everything would be alright. I remembered faces of people who would never be my family. I remembered my rebellion. I remembered my hurt. I remembered the feeling of being lost. I remembered going to a stranger and giving him everything, just for him to leave me. I remembered the razor that sculpted the scars into my wrists. I remembered the therapy sessions, the medication.