I woke with a start, grasping the sheets beside me. I knew that I had dreamed something bad. I couldn't remember it though, so I decided to move along. I walked silently to the kitchen and raided the fridge for food. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I closed the door and turned around, about to sneak back to my room. My mother was standing a few feet away from me. Dark brown hair, dark brown eyes. She took a step towards me, "Who told you that you could eat mine and your father's food?"
I stuttered, not knowing what to say to her. I was about to answer her when my body took a toll to the ground. She had stricken me in the jaw, "Get out of my sight you little pest." I scrambled to my feet and ran for the bathroom. I pulled back the mirror to a secret hidden compartment I had built a couple years back. It was used for my diary, but when I burned it, I started using it for my razor blades. I started cutting after I was raped by my real father the first time he got out of jail. My mother was the only one who ever cared for me. She always got drunk though, and I believed it was because of him. One night at a bar, she got drunk and tried to drive to this guys house. She was trying to move on from my real father. She drove over a train track, not worrying about her surroundings. The train didn't stop, though. It kept going, killing them both. I was adopted out to an abusive family after that. I lost my brother to another family in a different country.
I pulled out a small and fragile blade and dragged it across the flesh on my upper thigh. I winced at the sting, but I didn't mind it. I did it again and again until my upper leg had thirteen fresh scars. I turned on God Bless You by Black Veil Brides and hop in the shower. I watched as the fresh blood ran down the drain. My mother would have never approved of this. Me taking my own life. Slowly. Painfully.
I would walk until the end of the line that day. I would leave and never come back. I would leave all the bullies behind. All those nasty comments and all those nasty names. I would leave my bruises. But not my blades. Never. They were my pain killers. I walked past the big theater where Black Veil Brides was supposed to be playing that night. I heard a gunshot and I dove to the ground in pain, gripping my arm for dear life. When I released my hand from my arm and found blood, that's when I saw the black spots. I knew by then I only had a few seconds before the black in my vision would consume me.
When I woke, my wound was treated and I was lying down on a small couch. I heard shushing behind me and I turned only to see the biggest surprise in my life. I am in the Black Veil Brides tour bus.
YOU ARE READING
Seventeen year old Valeri Johnson, or Val, or Ri is kind of in an awkward point in her life. In the middle of depression and somewhere close to peace of mind. Her mother died when she was young. Her father is in prison. she was adopted out to an abu...