Becoming A Warrior

Chapter 1

 “Leave me alone!” I screamed.

                “Come back honey, we’re not done here.” My father yelled after me as he threw a beer bottle at my head. The bottle shattered and I knew that my head was bleeding, but I didn’t care. My only goal was to escape his drunk rage. I ran through the halls of the house until finally reaching the bathroom where I slammed the door shut, and locked it. I slid down on the floor and let the tears rush down my face. I didn’t know what to do. Or maybe I did.

                I crawled to the cabinet and grabbed my razor. I slammed it on the floor and grabbed the first blade I saw. I slid the razor across my wrist, 1 cut, 2 cut, 3 cut, and before I know it I’m at 10 new cuts. There goes 4 weeks clean. But, why does it matter? Nobody cares anyway. Nobody has since my mom overdosed. Ever since then my father has come home drunk at least three times a week. And, every time he’s drunk…I get punished.

                After I was in the bathroom for about 30 minutes I was pretty sure dad had gone to bed. And there I was alone again. I slowly made my way to room and slid into bed. I put my headphones in and started playing my favorite. Demi Lovato. She’s the only reason I still hold on and keep going. If only I could meet her.

The next day

“Bye dad.” I said as I slowly made my way out the door. He was obviously hung over from the night before, and I didn’t want to cause any more problems.

                The walk to school was long and lonely for me. I hated being home, but school was worse. I got bullied every day. I didn’t have but one friend, Kyle, and he killed himself last year. I still have nightmares. I watched him die…I didn’t know what to do. When I found him he had already hung himself and it was too late. He stood up for me, looked after me, and I felt safe with him. When he died…I cut for the first time. Now, I feel lost. Incomplete.

                As I approached school I heard a familiar laugh. It was Kelsie. She had made my life a living hell for years. She began to bully me in 4th grade. By the time we reached 6th grade she began to beat me. I’d come home with bruises all over me, and nobody ever cared to notice. Now we’re in 8th grade. It’s been a year since I lost Kyle, 4 years since I lost my mom, and for some reason I’m still stuck here. And, here my day begins.

“Hey slut, how are you today?” Kelsie sneered.

I tried to avoid her and keep walking, but that didn’t work. “Where do you think you’re going”, Kelsie said as she stepped in front of me grabbing my wrist. I flinched in pain, because she grabbed the cuts from the night before. “Leave me alone”, I tried. It didn’t work. Before I knew it Kelsie had me pinned to the ground and was kicking my ribs. I just laid there and took it until the bell rang for class. And this…the start of another day.

Last Class

                By the time last class came around I had been beaten twice and called a slut, whore, and a suicidal freak. To them, that was an understatement. The final bell was about to ring when the teacher said she had an announcement. “Okay class, I know you all are eager to get home, but I have news I think you will all enjoy. As you all know bullying has become a huge issue in our school, so the school board has worked extremely hard to get this special speaker to come out. Class, in three days Miss Demi Lovato will be here to speak out on bullying. I hope you can all attend.” The final bell rang, and everyone left the classroom as I was always the last to leave. My teacher asked to speak to me.

                “Yes Ms. K?” I asked nervously. “Hello Skylar. I’m beginning to get concerned about you. Your grades are slipping, and I’ve noticed some bruises appearing on your body.” Ms. K chocked this out. I quickly put on a fake smile and said, “Thanks for your concern, but it’s just that I have some really rough older cousins and sometimes they forget that I’m younger.” Ms. K didn’t seem convinced, but she nodded and dismissed me from class. That was that.

                I slowly walked home alone, and just like any other day passed by Kyle’s old house. I hadn’t visited his mom in a while, and I was in no form of rush to get home. I put on a smile, fought back the tears, and knocked on the door. Kyle’s mother answered the door with a smile. She pulled me into a hug, and asked how I was doing. I lied and told her I was good. We didn’t talk about Kyle at all, and I am grateful for that. I would not have been able to handle that. I spent almost two hours there before leaving, but oddly I wanted to stay. I felt safe there. But, she wasn’t my mother and never would be, so I had to go.