My One and Only Saviour

Days are Number Problems

Ring! Ring!  Ring! My alarm went off with an obnoxious noise that made me get a headache. I sighed and looked around my room. I stared at my Black veil Brides posters and let out another sigh thinking about how much I wanted to meet them. I slowly raised from my bed and took a shower. Once I got out, I dried myself and got dressed. I put on my black ripped  skinny jeans, a gray tank top that said love in an infinity sign, and put on a BVB necklace along with silver hoop earrings and matching bracelets. Afterward, I began to straight iron my light blonde hair. I applied my makeup. A thick coat of mascara, eyeliner, and little blush. I went downstairs and made myself breakfast and went back up to my room where I brushed my teeth, grabbed my bag, looked through my phone, slipped on my black TOMS and left the house. I got in my car and began to drive to school. 

I arrived in time and rushed off to my classes. Later that day, I ate lunch alone as I usually did. See, I don't get picked on or anything. I basically go through the day without really being noticed. I guess it's because of my quiet personality. I don't really mind it though. I actually kind of prefer it. After lunch ended I went to math class. Math is my worse subject. I always end up getting called up by Ms. Smith, my math teacher and I always end up being humiliated. I'm definitely noticed in there. 

"Skylar. Please come up here and show the class how to do this problem." Ms. Smith's raspy old voice startled me.  I hesitantly went up to the board. I don't even know why I do this. I don't know why I just don't refuse and admit I wasn't paying attention instead of going up in front of everyone and majorly humiliating myself. It's just that I can never seem to stick up for myself or talk back. I hate that about myself. I didn't use to act that way. When I was in elementary, I was happy, chatty, and I was never really alone. I had plenty of friends. I used to be able to stick up for myself, but that summer after elementary, my parents got divorced. Apparently my dad had cheated on my mom and he wanted to split so that he could be with the other woman. It broke my mom's heart and she began to drink. I mean, drink. She started acting differently and her drinking turned into a major problem. My once beautiful, loving mother turned into an abusive miserable human being. She took out her anger on me. Like I said, abusive. She has been abusing me ever since then and I'm 17 now. I've never been the same. I used to pretend I was happy, but I was not strong enough for that, so instead, I completely isolated myself. Anyway, that's why I am the way I am. I'm broken. 

I dealt with the humiliation and soon, the day ended. I got into my car and drove home. I walked in to see my mother on the couch passed out with a bottle of who knows what on her stomach. I shook my head and went upstairs. I blasted on "Wretched and Divine" and a few other songs as I completed my homework. After that, I decided to eat something. I microwaved soup and went back upstairs. I brushed my teeth, took off my makeup and went to sleep, thankful that it was Friday.

Sorry about how short and boring this is. I felt like writing something and I'm still not really sure how the plot will go from now. I know that in the description it said that she cuts her thighs every night, but I may or may not change that. Anyway, thanks for reading this. (I may not continue with this because it kind of sucks. >.<)