Tragedy||C.H

Chapter 1 <3

Willow Mae Sanders

Why does everything I love leave me? I've had two friends die of suicide, one from a car accident, and three for a shooting downtown. I've been beaten up three times this week on my way home from school because I'm "too emo." My boyfriend, that I've been dating for three years, cheated on me. And to top it all off, my idiotic parents are deciding on whether to put me in a mental hospital or up from adoption.

I can't believe it. I can't try. I can't make friends. I can't trust anyone. I can't love anyone. Why do I try? I. Give. Up.

I'm sitting in my councilors office right now. Bored out of my fucking mind. I'm drawing and half ignoring my councilor.

"How are you feeling?"

"I feel like shit."

"What's wrong?"

"Everything."

"What happened?"

"Do you pay attention when I tell you anything?"

"I do, I just want to know what's happening now."

"The same fucking things."

"And that is?"

"Six of my friends died, I've been beaten up three times this week for being 'too emo', my boyfriend cheated on me, my parents don't want me anymore, I'm still cutting, I'm fucked up. I'm royally fucked up. I'm done with everyone. I'm done with life."

"Ah, I see."

"Do you? Do you really?"

And with that, my time with my councilor was up and I left. I went into the waiting room, where my idiotic mother was sitting. I walked over to her and she looked up from her phone.

"You ready?" She asked me.

"Yeah, but I have to make another pointless appointment."

"They're not pointless Willow. They're helping."

"Whatever you say," I reply, rolling my eyes.

I walk behind my mom over to the receptionist to make other appointment. I didn't pay attention to what they were saying, I just looked down at the floor. I heard the door open and I looked up.

I saw a guy, about my age, walk in. He had bright green hair and was pretty pale, like me. He also had an eyebrow piercing, like me. He was looking down at the floor, playing with one of the hundreds of bracelets covering his wrists.

He looked up at me and started walked over to where I was standing. His, most likely, mother was walking next to him.

He gave me a slight smile that I returned. He look down at my wrists that were covered by my sleeves. He knew why. Everyone knew why. And I just had to live with that.

I looked down at his wrists, with his million bracelets and all. He moved some of his bracelets to the side, he struggled, but he did, to show his old scars and fresh cuts. I don't know why he did this. But he did and I thanked him for it. Silently, but he knew.

I rolled up my left sleeve and showed him mine. All of them. From the scars from years ago to the fresh cuts from last night and everything in between. All of it. We both exchanged smiles, sympathetic smiles.

My mom tapped me on the shoulder and I turned around.

"What?" I asked.

"The receptionist said that there's a high school youth group that begins in a few minutes. I think you should go," She said. She probably only wants me to go so that she doesn't have to deal with me at home. And so she can stay here and flirt with the dads of the mentally ill kids.