My Past Summer Fling; Is Now My Screwed Up Reality

My Past Summer Fling: Is Now My Screwed Up Reality ~42~

A/N: Hey guys, this is a series of flashbacks in the past way before the summer happened. This is when Krys was still struggling with her father's death and harming herself. This is how she meets Riley, Quinn and Garey. Hope you like it :)

~Flashback~ Four years ago...

I sat alone in the hall with my back against the cool aluminum lockers, my faded, ashy, brown, over-sized hoodie was hanging loosely on me as usual. My hood was pulled all the way over my head, covering my rat's nest of hair that was knotted and greasy. With my knees pulled up to my chest and my arms resting in the crevice beneathe my stomach, I mindlessly traced my fingers over the smooth scars along my sickly colored, ivory skin. I counted them all silently. Nine on my left arm and seven on my right, only three of them were fresh on my right arm. There was still dried blood on them, the bumpy texture of the ragged gash was oddly comforting. I noticed that two of my scars below it formed a V, I wondered briefly what made me carve that, but I gave up easily. I only wished I had my razor so I could reopen one of my healed scars, the release would feel good at the moment.

Another day in the hell that was high school, trying to focus my mind on anything but the ripping, searing, burning pain I was feeling in lue of my recently deceased father. It wasn't working out at all, how did anyone expect me to go about life in a normal way when I was mourning the first and only loss in my family? Did they think I was some type of cyborg with no feelings or emotions at all? Probably so, since they people here were heartless bastards, I had to be one too. I'd like to see any of them deal with what I was dealing and still go around acting like nothing was wrong. I bet you most of them wouldn't even be walking around school at all, they'd all be in bed balling their eyes out. If I could stay confined to my bed for the rest of my life I would but my bitchy sister is making me go to school. Of course she couldn't gives a rats ass about anything but herself, hell she was selfish enough to miss her own father's funeral.

My heart clenched as my dad's smiling face flashed in my mind for the bazillionth time. I closed my eyes and swallowed the swelling lump in my throat wondering if it would ever get better, or maybe just a little easier. But then I thought about it and realized I would feel too guilty enjoying life without him, it would be selfish of me to walk around happy while he was rotting...No he wasn't rotting, he was walking around in heaven like a new man. If I knew him, and I did, he'd be up there in his pj's having a cup of coffee with Jesus, telling him the story of when I was born. I smiled sadly at the thought, I remembered him telling me countless times about the day I came into the world. He had met with my mom so that she could break the news to him about her surprise pregnancy, they had gotten into a pretty intense argument and in the middle of it she went into labor. Worst part about it was they were in the middle of a coffee house, Tisane Tea & Coffee Bar to be exact. She hadn't been expecting it and they didn't have time to get to a hospital, they called up an ambulance and they delivered right there in the booth. Since that day my dad deemed that place his favorite coffee house, and he never stopped going back there for a cup.

"It couldn't have happened at a better time," he would say with a goofy grin on his scruffy face. "Oh, and the look on your mom's face was worth more than the capital's bank account," He'd always chuckle like it was the most clever thing in the world. I would roll my eyes whenever he'd say that and he'd pinch my cheeks and tell me, "You were just about the sweetest little thing I'd ever laid eyes on, hell you could steal a blind man's heart."

A single tear rolled down my cheek as I shoved the memory to the stow away vault in the corner of my mind. It was best for me to try and be numb, clear my mind and think of nothing at all. Most of the time I'd end up counting the beats of my heart but then I'd start imagining the blood swishing around inside of it, and I'd want to drain it all out of my veins. This led to the cutting and once I started I couldn't stop, it was the only pain that came and went when I wanted it to, it was the only pain sharp enough to drown out the pain of losing my father. The only pain I could control...