Living With the Enemy: Adrian Johnson (A Brothers Best Friend) Chapter One

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I am writing this story, because I always read stories like this but things never actually go the way I want it to so, I am going to write how I wanted it to go :3

Bianca:

I lie in bed, blocking out the partying from downstairs, with my iPod. It was Noah and I's birthday, but like usual, he's the one that gets the party. He's the one with the football friends. He's the one my parents love. He's the one that got the car for his 16th, my 16th, I got not even a happy birthday. 

I can think of a few reasons why maybe my parents didn't love me as much as Noah. 

Maybe it was because I wasn't popular like him, in fact, in our snobby dorm roomed school, I had no friends. Maybe it was because I wasn't pretty as Noah was handsome, I didn't attract guys and he attracted too many girls for his own good. Maybe it was because I was scarred, and he was smooth and perfect. Maybe it was because my only friend is a ex drug addict high school drop out, and I constantly get into trouble with him, while Noah was never caught, since he was the school quarterback. 

Maybe it was because I was a burden on them when I was born. I was the accident, they wanted their little perfect one child household and when my mom got pregnant I was just fucking that up.

I think baby Bianca me knew that because she started to slowly develop into me. The girl who used to be a cutter.

I'm a year younger than my brother, and I just happened to be born on his birthday. I was the one who was invading his day. Today is my 17th, and his 18th, today was September 1, 2011. 

What kept me happy was that in two hours I was having my own little 2 person party with Jesse and I. 

Jesse and I made had a good friendship. 

September 1, 2008 

I ran to the corner it looked deserted and dark, it was 3 am, it sure as hell better be deserted.  I sat in the shaded area of the night and pulled out my bag. 

"This is the last time Bianca," I said to myself, "You don't have to put up with any of their shit anymore." 

and with that, I pulled out my razor. I rolled my sleeves up in the night air brushed across them. My halfway healed cuts felt colder than the rest of my skin.

"You won't do it," I nearly jumped out of my skin. 

"Whose there!" I yelled. 

"You wouldn't cut  yourself." I rolled my eyes and sighed at this annoying voice. 

"Watch me," I sliced across my arms not flinching that much. it was trickling blood slowly, too slow for my liking. I went to take another deeper dive when a hand grabbed my hand, took the razor, and threw it across the street. 

"I've got more," I went to go grab my bag. 

"Just come on." he said, pulling me to my feet, taking my bag and throwing it over his shoulder. 

If you ask me why I was following a complete stranger, I've got no answer for you. 

"So, getting raped wasn't on my to-do list but I guess it's going to be." 

"I'm not going to rape you." He gestured for me to step into the average apartment. 

"Isn't that what all rapist say?" 

"If I wanted to rape you, I could've waited until you killed yourself," 

"You don't catch me as a necrophiliac, but hey, I guess I could've been wrong,"

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