Scar-Crossed Lovers.

Chapter 3.

"How was school, honey?" her Mother called from the kitchen, her cellphone glued to her ear as she giggled into the receiver. Annie had slammed the door seconds before which ricocheted back open due to the amount of force, ignoring Veronica's pathetic attempt at a conversation. Who could converse with two people at once? No doubt it was Tim on the other end of the phone anyway.

Stomping up the stairs into her room, Annie closed the door behind her with a vicious thud before she threw herself down onto the bed and screamed into her pillow with every last ounce of strength she had. If only I had the courage to end it all, the thought flooded her mind. She couldn't think of anything else other than ways of committing suicide.

She'd had enough. Today had been the last straw. The girls at school had finally found out that she'd been cutting herself and the taunts had become unbearable. They could call her a goth, or an emo. They could tell her she had greasy hair and she was fat. None of them insults affected her; they bounced off her like two positive magnet ends repelled each other - she knew they weren't true. But the scars, they were another story altogether.

Why did it matter what they thought? Because it was what she thought of herself too. Ugly, invisible, tainted, worthless. Every negative word to describe someone that was in the English dictionary was aimed at her right now, or at least that's what she thought. She couldn't take it any longer.

Like a lifeless zombie, she arose from her bed. Her eyes were all glazed over, as though she wasn't seeing anything. Nothing except the razor blade that lay beside her Macbook, begging to be used. She swore she could hear it teasing her. End it all Annie, they won't miss you. Slice your jugular. It'll be over in seconds and you won't have to see me ever again, or them.

She lifted the blade to her neck, the smooth skin there untouched, as soft as a baby's bottom. She spun herself around so she could look at herself in the mirror, but it felt like it wasn't even her any more. It was as if some entity had possessed her, but she knew what she was doing and what she was leaving behind.

Nothing. That was the problem. She wasn't leaving behind a happy life; there was no pet, or siblings, or friends. Family? Well, that was a loose term in Annie's eyes. More like associates in this poor excuse of a life.

She was a disappointment, and she couldn't find a reason to stay. Her Father had Sienna, her Mother had Tim. She had no purpose on this Earth and along the way of trying to find one, she'd lost what it was that she was searching for to make her stay. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she placed the thin sheet of metal to her skin.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Veronica shrieked, making Annie drop the blade from the shock of the outburst. Her Mother stood in the doorway with wide eyes, her mouth open from the sheer terror of what her daughter was about to inflict upon herself.

Her hands were trembling, her eyes asking so many questions as they searched her daughter's, but there were no words to be spoken between them. Her question had been rhetorical; they both knew exactly what it was that she was about to do.

"You don't care about me", Annie mumbled in a monotone, her gaze turning hard as she stared her Mother down. The anger and bitterness and every other pent up emotion she'd been holding in for so long suddenly came spilling out.

"You're a pitiful mother! You never make the time of day for me, your only child. It's always Tim this, and Tim that. You've been so naive that you haven't even noticed the endless scars that paint my body, Mom. You've been so selfish that you haven't heard my cries at night, or noticed that some days I come home from school early with mascara down my face because I just can't do this anymore", her voice was stone cold. It filled the room with an eerie chill.

"Annie, baby", Veronica was cut off by the glare and the turned up mouth that Annie had sculpted onto her facial features, as though she'd just been sick in her mouth a little. Her Mother gulped, not quite knowing what to say and also knowing that no matter what she said, it wouldn't make a difference. Her daughter, her precious little Annie was too far gone into her depression that she'd never see the light again, at least not being here with her.

"You're going to live with your Father."