I stepped my foot with such force in my car's accelerator. The storm was now in full swing. Thunders grumbling on top of me. I clenched my teeth. But I'm not scared. 

Why would I be?

I've seen, felt, heard things much much worse. 

My brother. He jumped off of a building on my graduation day. He landed across me on the road, lifeless and his limbs were scattered apart. I saw him die. I saw my brother kill himself. As I looked down on me, I saw his blood splattered on my newly shined black shoes, my white toga for my gaduation. I touched my cheek only to feel blood, too, splattered on my cheek. Almost covering half of my face. I was only 10 yrs. old back then.

They wouldn't give him a funeral that was fucking infuriating. Since, he commited suicide and all. And I couldn't help but just accept that fact. But he's my brother. I want him to see all of us who loved him so much gathered around to see him one last time, I pleaded.

Is it so much to ask for? But they still won't listen.

As things in my life was going for a total downfall,

My mother, pregnant for 7 months, went into labor a few weeks after my brother's suicide. The baby was premature. My little sister has a weak heart. Three huge holes in my precious little sister's heart. I looked at the nursery where all the nurses are checking her every minutes just to keep her alive. I gazed at that small baby and couldn't exactly imagine its small heart has 3 huge holes.

She survived though. But 6 years later, she was diagnosed with stage 3 cancer. She was basically living in the hospital now. Every day, I visit her and try not to bawl my eyes out in front of her because apparantly it would make her feel much less hopeful. 

One day, I visited her after school. And this question that she asked me almost took my heart away.

"Who are you?" and I tried to explain that I'm her sister but she still won't remember. Later on, a bunch of doctors observed her. She remembers mom. And dad vaguely. 

But she can't remember me.

The doctors can't explain it. And that was not enough for me. It never will be enough.

Back at home, mom and dad started fighting. Every night. I lost the importance of sleep. Even if I tried to, I can't. Not the way I used to crash when I was the girl 7 years from now. I could hear them shouting at each other. And then when I just had enough, I stormed out of my room, sobbing. I followed their voices.

And saw my dad punctured my mom's neck with a knife. I saw the blood gushing out off my mom's neck. I dropped to my knees, shaking. I was sweating too much and all I could think was my mom could be dead. The horror. My energy that was left of me was like sucked out of me as darkness invaded my vision and I passed out.

I found out my mom survived, thankfully. My dad? He's sentenced for a lifetime imprisonment. But that punishment isn't enough for the show he gave me. He almost killed my mother. In our house. With me just standing by the corner.

You're probably wondering who's these bitch who thinks her world is ending, whose life's sucks like a room filled with Miley Cyrus clones?








My name is Angelica Pierre.





And I'm on my way to hell.

Hey guys! :)

This is another story. 

A little bit different (same genre, though) from what I'm used to write about before (so bear with me.) but I'm feeling good about this. 

Tell me what you think :)






And enjoy the chapters ahead of you. ;)

Teehee. :)

P.S. The dedication is for the awesome person who made the awesome cover. :) 

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