Light Into The Darkness

First Chapter

Victoria Jones

"Living was never easy for me." I scribble the words into my thin sheet of paper using the three dollar pen dad gifted to me, before he passed away.
My whole life has been a circle of sadness and misery, I cannot escape that for I have reached to a point where nothing I can do fixes the reality I am a prisoner to. No, I haven't quite given up, but now I am numb. I still try sometimes, when I'm feeling a bit pepped up or excited by something but I always end up hurting myself or cutting and crying in the shower because no one can hear me there. I have been into several hospitals an rehab centers but I feel like nothing is actually working with my condition. So, I just live on the line and try to hide everything inside.

How did it all start? That question is one I ask myself so frequently. How did I become so hopeless and miserable. Maybe it was his death or her addiction. Maybe it was something I am still unaware of.
I shrug all of this of by crumbling that paper and tossing it into the basket beside my bed. I prepare my bag and I check the weather outside. Rainy and dark. I come down from my room and I look for my mother. There she was, drinking her consciousness off on that ragged sofa. She started to be like that when my father died five years ago, when I was still 12, so happy and vibrant.
"Mom just stop all of that." The irony is that I'm trying to let her quit drugs and alcohol when I can't seem to stop cutting.
"Stop what dear?" She hiccuped.
I rolled my eyes in disappointement an despair and I stepped out of the house towards God knows where.
Walking and talking to myself have always been daily habits. I live in Eugene, Oregon and I tend discover little by little of it by going to the beach every single day. Where I could just sit and and watch the sun as it rises and and as it sets.
Today it was a fine mural of orange, black, and yellow. I let out a sigh as I prayed for better days. For a better me at least.
I have always trusted God, even in this case, I knew he had a plan in al of this. Even If I couldn't see it exactly.
"Dear God, please take me out of this hole. May you send me a rope of ligh to which I hold on out of the dark and the misery. I know you're there and that you're seeing me crying and pleading into emptiness. I don't want anything but love and joy. Grant my wishes, Lord."
And that is how I usually wrap up my visit to the ocean, by praying silently into the open skies. By holding onto whatever pecks of hope I still have deep down, where the darkness didn't succeed in reaching. Where there is still light, calmness, and pure harmony.

I walked back home as I threw some pebbles on the ground. They ticked into my head, but that never disturbed me for the noise inside is deafening and stronger that anything my hands can create. I was surprised by a group of people coming towards me. As they came closer, I noticed that they were from my highschool. I rolled my eyes.
"Hey there Vic." Brianna, the school's most popular bitch greeted me.
"Hey Brianna, it's Victoria incase your little brain forgot." I replied.
I spotted a few more boys as well;
Hayden Grey, Brianna's on-off boyfriend.
Xander Brooks, his side-kick.
And most importantly, Ryder Maxwell. The school's snob and quarterback who everyone loves and worships.
They gave me crooked smiles but Ryder just frowned and gave a displeased look.
I kept on walking towards my home for my little tour was coming to an end.
And like always, I passed by our local cemetery to greet dad...I placed my hands on the cold brick-engraved letters, 'Vincent Chase Jones'.
I shed a tear or two as I spoke to him about everything that has been going on in our lives, and I said how much I had missed him.

It's like when he left, the world turned grey, no one laughed that wholesome beautiful laugh anymore, no one even tried to talk about it because we all knew that there would be no benefit, and we certainly would not feel better.
The emptiness we had sunken in was way too emerging, there were some days where I could not breathe properly, other days where I could not stop crying and cutting. He was the rock of this home and everyone relied on him. But when he left, we fell off that cliff.
My mom is not abusive, she has never layed a hand on me in violence, but she is abusive towards herself. Towards her own soul.
She tortures it everyday by doing meth and marijuana, in hope to feel 'levitated' and forgetful of the past. But that'll never happen, the past will cling onto our hearts like its own veins, pumping happinness and sadness through our bodies and letting us breathe the way we should.

I got up to my room all over again and practically did the same routine.
It was getting kinda late, so I iust took off my clothes into more comfortable ones and I headed towards the bathroom for a simple night routine, I looked at myself in the mirror,
plain blue eyes, some freckles underneath them all the way to my nose, as my tan skin shone lightly as it met the fluorescent lamp. I held my hands out to look at the faded scarring, it was starting to give a pinkish color. I breathed out, closed my eyes, and continued.
I set my phone on the charging stand as I slid onto my bed in attempt of getting some sleep for school tomorrow.