Plastic dolls

Chapter 1

  I look at a girl. Her face puffy from the tears that had fallen earlier. Her greyish blue eyes dull and lifeless.  Her blonde hair dishevel from running her hands through it over and over. The frown on her face permanently there and her fists clenched tightly. I watch as the blood slowly trickles down her upper thigh and I release a gasp. I clutch my thigh and wipe the blood before it drops onto my white fur carpet.

  Yup everyone, I am that girl.

  I look at myself through the mirror in my huge room, wearing nothing but my underwear and bra. I place the scissors on the table and wipe the blood from them. My hands are shaking and I can't get my breathing under control. I drop to the floor and start weeping again even louder. I know no one will hear me because I'm alone. I'm always alone.

  My parents have been gone for 2 weeks on yet another one of their 'business trips', but even I know they get out of the city to party, drink and cheat on each other with only God knows who. I know the only reason they don't get a divorce is because of me. The mistake that they never wanted. The one who stopped them from actually living.

  I draw my knees close to my body and this time I don't wipe the tears from my eyes. Instead I let the saltiness of them enter my mouth and fall onto my white shirt, staining it a little. 

I know what you're thinking. Rich girl with family issues? Who cares right, I mean she doesn't have to be crazy and cut herself.  Everyone has problems. What a psycho.

  But to me it's more than that. I feel myself suffocating. I feel every essence in my body screaming for me to let go and maybe I will. Maybe I will take that last step, that last breath. You see I'm like a jar. With all the shit you put in it, it's bound to get full. That's just logic. But what if it overloads with shit? Will it explode? Or will it simply fit all that stuff in and screw the cap on it, hiding all the evidence of the hurt and anger bottled up?

I have everything. More than everything. But maybe that's not enough. I don't have freedom. I don't have an identity and maybe if I wasn't so scared I would do something about it, but I am and I'm sorry. For everything.

  I push myself off the ground, throw on an oversized shirt and get under my covers. I hold onto the sheets as if it will protect me from the darkness of the night and squeeze my eyes shut. Sleep doesn't come easily, but when it does I enter a dreamless state with only one thing on my mind.

  Oblivion.
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Short chapter, but only the beginning. I was literally so bored and I had this idea at like 3 am in the morning lol. Anyway this book is going to be dealing with depression, drugs and other stuff, so viewer discretion is advised. I hope you enjoy the first of many chapters from this book!