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Welcome to UnSavable!

Thank you for taking your time to check out my book! Writing this book has been a great trill for me, and I hope it is for you!

X WARNING! X This book is triggering to audiences who are sensitive to the topics of cutting, suicide and depression. Don't fret though, I will put trigger warnings ahead of time.

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UnSavable.
Adjective;
Definition: Not savable; that cannot be saved.

I stared at the clock as the time ticked by.

2:45 PM.

Tick, tock, tick, tock,

Five more minutes left and I will finally be out of this place, school. The household staple name for depression. This school filled with snobby rich kids nearly make me want to stay at home.

Nearly.

My left leg shook rapidly and I began biting my nails again.

Can the clock go any slower?

The whole day I watched that stupid red clock, waiting for it to hit 2:50. I feel like I'm slowly deteriorating, wasting it on a clock. Which each minute passing by, I feel like I'm closer to a self destruction, and it makes me want to throw up.

It's strange because people don't normally see me like this. They don't see me fidgeting uncontrollably. They don't see me nervous, scared, and paranoid. People don't see this side of me. They always see the tough side of "Cassandra". But today they are seeing the real me.

The most pathetic, weakest person anyone can meet.

People love me for my smile. It's quite a 'beautiful piece' they say. But just like a mask, I fake my act. I fake it all.

You can almost call me a magician.

I'm a beauty, but underneath I hide a facade, the facade that can't even stand the sight of herself.

The facade that enjoys leaving ridged cuts along my lovely pale arms and legs.

She spends a lot of time wondering,

Who really cares?

Who made her this way? Why is she this way?

Mom.

I laughed lowly.

There are 3 words that describe Lisa Francis.

Rich men, drugs, and alcohol.

She loves the scent of money and rich cologne. Anything that screams 'money money money!' Is hers. My mother and I have all the money we need in the world. We are millionaires. We own Porches, Rollex's, I'm even friends with the Versace's granddaughter for Christ's sakes!

But what she wants, she gets.

School gives me a slight advantage. It lets me act normal. Whatever the hell normal is. Its a lot easier to convince myself everything is okay here at school.  Yet there always is that one person that can make your life a living hell.

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