Never Give In ( BVB fan fiction )

Chapter 1

Pray to All the Wrong Decisions
Never give in, never back down.
"Fuck G, I wish i could pay for school without working in this hell hole." I pulled out a pack of Marlboro's, yanking a slim cig from its depths and lighting it.

"I know Ash, but you yourself said it's the only way, since your parents won't help out."

I looked down at my thin 105lb frame, flipping over my wrist in my hand watching the flame from my ciggarette dance across the thin white scars. I wasn't happy about gaining those 5lbs.

"Ashley! Hurry up you're going to make your brother late for school!" My mom screamed through the small house to the master bathroom where i was currently emptining the contents of my stomach.

"I'm coming mom!" I slipped my fingers into my mouth and pressed them against the back of my throat feeling the bile rise up telling me there was nothing else in my body. Once 280lbs and a freak to boot, now i was only 100lbs, still a freak, but i looked a lot better. Flipping over my wrist I pulled a thin shiny razor blade from my jeans pocket and sliced across my wrist, punishing myself for eating so much the night before. Quickly staunching the blood and slipping a BVB wrist band on i raced out of the house, straighening my jean shorts as i grabbed the door to the car, swinging it open.

"fu...ck..." i muttered to myself, it's 7:45. I drove like a madman to school making the 20 minute drive last 8 minutes.

"Ashley, shit you're going to kill me one day!" my brother grabbed his bag and rushed down the sidewalk.

"Well look who it is." I spun around in time to feel the jab to my stomach. I looked up through my blood red bangs at the most popular guy in school. "What are you looking at? ...fat, worthless whore." He spat in my face and walked toward the school. I jumped up grabbed my BVB bag, slung it over my shoulder, and headed off to school ignoring the intense pain in my stomach. I walk in, looking over at the two kids who used to be friends with me. Then i noticed they were headed my way.

"How's the cutting, bitch?" Kel's dark eyes turned on me. "Bet you just can't fucking wait to go get laid by your newest whore can you?" A tear slipped from my eye, I was getting tired of this. It was my last day of senior year, things shouldn't be this bad, but i knew they would be, it's been the same thing since 2nd grade. "Really you're still obsessed with that gay, whiney, teen angst shit." E said pointing to my ripped up BVB shirt over my red tank. I pulled my Aviators down over my eyes and with as much grace as I could muster, stumbled into the bathroom.

I bent down over the toilet and pushed my fingers down deep making me dry heave until stomach acid burnt my throat. I needed to be thinner. Everyone still hates me, I NEED to be perfect. I cried silently, flushing and making my way to the sink. Pulling out a makeup bag I fixed the damage I'd done. I pulled out my cell phone and flipped it from the back, which had the BVB signatures scrawled across it in silver ink, my prized possession, and tapped on the screen to make it light up. After unlocking it I tapped on the message from my mom. 'we need to talk when you get home.' Shit what'd I do now?

making my way into the auditorium I slipped down in my usual seat, away from everyone, hidden by darkness. The rest of the day was a blur, people screaming at me, calling me a whore, being pushed up against walls and beaten, getting in trouble with teachers,
and throwing up every chance i got, trying to be perfect for all of them. Crying I slipped back into my car, well my parents car, dreading whatever was going to happen when i got home. As my brother slid into the seat beside me I pushed my standard Purdy glasses down to cover my eyes, so he wouldn't see i'd been crying.

"how was your day Ash?"

"Fine, you ready?" I asked pulling off and headed home. The minute we pulled into the driveway a sense of fear dropped over me. I hated coming home. I grabbed my bag and walked into the house. The first thing I see is an envelope perched between my mom's hands. The second thing, my dad standing behind her.