I slowly stepped out of Katie's car, wincing as the scabs on my legs cracked. I could already feel the warm blood trickling down my legs. Thank God for black jeans.
"Bye Mrs. Russo!" I yelled over my shoulder, waving with one hand. "Bye Kat!" Katie smiled as the car drove away, but I couldn't help but note the look of fear in her eyes. I didn't blame her. I was scared to walk into my house, too. What if my step dad was there? I couldn't face him if he was.
I glanced at the drive way; no cars. So far so good. I made my way to the door as fast as I could, slipping my key into the lock. The door creaked open, revealing the small corridor on the inside. The walls were painted a dark green, and on the far wall there was a coffee table. Pictures of my mom and step dad cluttered the walls, but not a single one contained me.
I silently slipped through the door, making sure to close and lock it. As I slipped down the hallway, I heard no sound. Maybe I was all alone. That wouldn't be unusual. I climbed up the carpeted stars, glancing down behind me every so often. Finally, my white door was in sight. I turned the nob and ran in, slamming it behind me. My bed caught my fall as I let gravity take over. I sighed in content as I laid there, just begging the pain to go away.
This was all routine with me. In about a week the pain would be gone and, if I was lucky, I wouldn't see either of my parents for about a month. Was this even legal? For my parents to leave a fifteen year old alone for all that time? I didn't care, I loved being alone. It defiantly was better then spending "quality time with my family." Every time I did, I ended up being hurt. Physically or emotionally, it didn't matter.
Pain is still pain whether you can see it or not. Personally, I believe the pain you can't see is more painful. A cut or bruise would go away, where as an emotional scar would always be there. It would haunt you for the rest of you life, never letting you forget. Every action would revolve around the pain. Every decision would be based on if you would get hurt more. You would never be the same. No matter how hard you tried to forget, you wouldn't be able to. I remember a time when I was five years old. Still so young, but the memory shines bright in my head.
"Daddy?" I asked, my voice small and scared. I turned the door nob, the gold metal stinging my skin. The door creaked open, revealing my parents room. The fan above the bed was on, spinning around and around and hitting me with cold blasts of air. The desk had papers piled high, either from my mothers work or my dads. The dresser stood on the left wall, brown and shiny.
The bed was quite large; king size. The brown bed posts stood in the air, draping the white canopy over the bed. The cream quilt had pink flowers on it, it was my favorite blanket in the world. Me and my parents would snuggle up in it on cold winter nights, or when I was scared of a thunder storm. I took a step forward, the floor boards creaking under my feet. Suddenly, the quilt moved. My eyes widened as my ears filled with grunting noises and moans.
"Harder, Josh." Someone muttered, a voice I did not recognize.
"Daddy?" I asked again, this time louder. Suddenly it was silent, and everything was still. In the blink of an eye a naked lady I didn't know shot out of the bed and into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. My dad sat up, staring at me with a red face.
"Demitra, I thought you were asleep!" He yelled, attempting to cover his naked body. I gasped, my little mind not comprehending what had happened. All I knew was it was bad. I turned to run, my teddy bear slipping from my grasp. I ran all the way up the stars, into my room, and into my bed, flinging the covers over me. I sat there, shaking, wondering what had happened. Who was that lady? Where was my mother? Why was this happening?
"Demitra!"
I sat straight up, my head colliding with something hard. My hands immediately grasped my forehead, feeling for the damage. Luckily, none was done except for a throbbing pain in my skull. Then I noticed someone laying on my lap.
"Kaite!" I exclaimed, eyeing my friend. She was holding her head, moaning something about ice. I nodded and jogged down stairs, wincing in pain the whole way. I quickly grabbed a Ziploc bag and scooped ice into it, zipping it shut. After placing the scooper back in the ice machine, I spun on my heels, only to find Katie sitting on a stool ten feet away from me. She held out a trembling hand for the package, and I gladly handed it to her.
"Thanks." She whispered, placing the ice on her face. She sighed in relief, tension visibly leaving her body. Katie wasn't usually one to admit to pain, so I must've whacked her pretty badly.
"What are you doing here?" I blurted, almost wishing I haden't. She glared at me, shooting daggers into my already hurt skin. I flinched, not because I was in the process of sitting down, but because her glares scared me that much.
"Well, I wanted to know how you are going to compete this weekend, but that was before you decided to knock me out with your head!" She exclaimed, exasperatedly. Crap. I had totally forgotten about my swim competition!
"Um, I'm not sure...I mean, I know I can't but this is the big one. If I don't compete in this one I won't be able to race all summer." I frowned, feeling the disappointment sink in. I loved competing, it was the only thing I enjoyed in life. Yet another thing my parents had been able to ruin for me.
"Aw, I'm sorry Demi! I know how much you love it." She sympathized, but I could tell that she was till upset about the bruise forming on her face.
"It's alright, I'll get over it." I said, shrugging, while pulling a spoon from a drawer in front of me. It was my spoon. It had a little 'D' carved into the end, flowers tangling around the letter. I smiled as I thought of my grandma, who had given it to me. She died a year ago from a heart attack. I grabbed the carton of vanilla ice cream out of the freezer and took my seat next to Katie, plunging my spoon into the cold substance. Katie rolled her eyes at me, shaking her head.
"Just because you can't compete doesn't mean you should go off your diet." She dropped the ice and did the 'tisk tisk' sign with her fingers. If only she knew what my real diet was.
"Shut up." I muttered, shoving another spoon full into my mouth. It tasted so good, cold, fluffy, and sweet. Spoon full after spoonful went into my mouth, and before I knew if half of the carton was gone. And then it hit me. I suddenly felt nauseous, the contents of my stomach churning. Granted, the only thing in my stomach was the ice cream, but still. Without even thinking I jumped from my chair and ran from the room, tearing down the hallway and bursting into the bathroom. I shoved up the toilet seat just in time for the ice cream to come up, making a splashing sound in the toilet.
My vision blurred as I rested my head in my hands, trying to calm my racing heart. Breathe in, and out, I told myself. A cold sweat covered the back of my neck and face, causing me to shiver.
"Demi? Are you alrigh-" Katie's words were cut off as more of the ice cream spilled from my mouth, causing me to shiver again. I hated this. Katie was at my side in a minute, holding my hair back for me. She used one hand to rub my arm as she cooed calming words. I could barely process them though, my body was shaking. Ten minutes later, after throwing up all of the ice cream I had eaten and what was left of last nights dinner, I was sitting on my brown leather couch, curled up in a thick fleece blanket. I was still shivering.
Kate came back into the room, handing me a cup of carbonated water and saltine crackers. I took them with a smile, but set them next to me on the coffee table. If I ate anything right now, I would definitely be sick again. Katie plopped next to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. She kept quiet, knowing I liked silence when I was sick. Eventually, she just couldn't stay quiet any longer, though.
"Are you sick?" She asked, furrowing her eye brows till they met in a straight line. I sighed and shook my head, not wanting to talk about it. "Then why did you throw up?"
"Kat, I really don't need to talk about this right now...it's just.." When it came to Katie, I was such a crap liar, "Whenever I eat anything, that happens." The truth it was, then. She immediately stood on her feet, placing her hands on her hips.
"Demitera! I thought you told me you started eating again!" Katie also knew about my anorexia problem. I hadn't told her, but she had figured it out when she lived at my house for a whole week last summer.
"Yeah, I know. It just happened." I shrugged, indifferent. Honestly, I just didn't have the energy to fight or defend myself in that moment. I didn't care enough about the subject.
"You still didn't answer me! You said you quit that, right?" She looked at me with sad eyes, on the verge of tears. Again? How could I tell her this so she wouldn't be mad?
"I....lied?" Okay, so those were not the words I was looking for. She fell on the couch, sighing in defeat. "I really did try Katie! But I just hate throwing up so purging wasn't working for me and-" I cut off short. Oh, damn it. Kate glared at me, her face growing red. I could see her biting her lip, trying not to yell at me. I remained silent, waiting for her to reply. None came. She just stood up and stalked out of the room. I tried to speak, but the words got caught in my throat. I tried to move, but my muscles wouldn't listen.
As the front door slammed, I felt my heart crumble. She was my only friend. The only person who cared even the slightest for me in this world. I cursed under my breath, cursing the cruel world, my parents, my parents parents, everything and anything I could think of. Why was my life so horrible? I had been trying my hardest to be good my whole life to make up for my parents mistakes! I have never been drunk, I didn't do drugs, and I had fairly good grades! That's uncommon with most fifteen year old's in my town.
I couldn't take it anymore. I just couldn't. I laid my head back, resting it on the cool leather as the memories pounded at my head. My first day of kindergarten. Everyone was mean to me and in the end my teacher had to dive me home, only to find out my parents were gone. I spent a week in foster care, and my parents were still nowhere to be found.
I saw my eighth birthday. That was the first night I spent alone. Alone in the dark because no one was home and the electricity wasn't working. My parents hadn't paid the bill.
I saw my grandma die, holding my hand. "I love you." she whispered, her hand falling limp in mine. I screamed, tears streaming down my face. Why was love so cruel? Why was everything so horrible? Why did no one ever show me an ounce of kindness? I was nice to everyone, always doing my best. I got good grades, I was polite, I could do almost anything on my own, and still everyone tossed me aside like I was a piece of bad meat.
I jumped off the couch, not able to stand it any longer. I forced myself to run, ignoring my legs that were screaming in protest. I burst into my parents room, almost knocking the door off the henge's. My eyes burned with tears as I yanked open the dresser drawer, feeling around for what I was looking for. Finally, my hand brushed against the cold metal. I grabbed the handle and turned around, jumping on my parent's bed. Slowly, I slipped under the cream quilt with the red flowers. The one that used to be my favorite.
This is how I wanted it to end. The blanket that held the memories of the only happy time I had ever known holding me until I knew no more. The nights my parents and I would spend in this blanket made me smile. Back when my parents got along and we were a family, - when my dad was still alive - that was the only true happiness I had ever experienced. The nights when we would watch a movie, or hide from the storms. I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. I slipped my finger on the trigger, pulling the gun to my head. It touched my temple, making me flinch from the cold.
Katie flashed before my eyes. I saw her smile, laugh, tell me she loves me. A slight smile tugged at my lips as I saw her give me a necklace for my eleventh birthday. My hand absentmindedly reached up to my neck, clasping the metal hanging there. It was a locket. It said 'Best Friends' in cursive on the front and inside held two pictures of me and Katie. One we were on a horse, Katie holding the reins. And the other we were in a swimming pool, our cheeks pink from working so hard. I began to cry as I thought of how she would miss me.
It was selfish, I knew that, but I just couldn't take it anymore. The pain Katie would feel was nothing compared to the hurt and heart ache I felt every single day of my life. From the moment I woke up to the moment I went to sleep at night I felt worthless and unwanted. Katie would forgive me, and forget about my unimportant existence in the amount of time it took to blink.
And as for me, I would finally be free.
"I'm so sorry, Katie."