Prologue | Anastasia
My name's Anastasia, but I hate formalities so you can call me Ana. I'm a 17 year old suicidal maniac who's attached to nothing but music, alcohol, drugs, sex, and sadness. Don't get me wrong, I fell in love once. He broke my heart and took it with him. Now, before you go and stereotype me.. No I don't wear all black like I'm attending a funeral every day. I... Well I have my own type of style. I don't care about the new styles and trends. As long as it covers up me and my scars when I'm feeling too lazy to cover them up with makeup; then I'm good. I attend Seattle Prep and I couldn't hate life more. No one likes me, but I could care less about having friends, most of them are temporary anyways.
I don't know what I wanna be in life, I just wanna stay young forever. I mean, all I do is go to school sometimes, go to house parties, raves, and do illegal shit. I know what you may be thinking... How did she get this way? It's simple, I was raped when I was 11 years old, by a family friend who I used to think was so hot, his name was Logan and I practically had a crush on him. He was 19, but I couldn't care less about his age. When he raped me, I didn't see it as rape. I sickeningly enjoyed it... Emotionally I felt it was wrong, but physically, my body gave me away. It felt good. After it happened, I admitted my feelings for him and he laughed at me and then took me to his friends house so they could rape me like he did. He used me, but I eventually got over it. A week after that, I was introduced to drugs by a person who I thought was a friend, Jason. I snorted coke, smoked cigs, smoked weed, took LSD, drank booze. It was an escape for me.
I kept doing it all, till the feeling wore off. That's when I tried cutting. At first, it stung. But later on, I couldn't stop. One time, I cut too deep, the bleeding wouldn't cease. But, I wasn't afraid. I'm still not afraid. I trust no one and I'm not afraid of dying. I live with my mom Carla and my step dad Ray. They don't know about the drugs, alcohol, or the fact that I was raped, but they do know I cut. I usually wear jeans, or cover them with make up from time to time.. and the only body parts they've ever seen my cuts, are on my arms. They think I stopped, but I just cut on my thighs.
I get bullied and shit, though I wouldn't call it bullied because I defend myself, which actually result into me giving someone a broken nose. I have anger issues, but can you blame me? People are annoying.
I know I'll have to get my shit together one day, but to be honest. I don't think I might even make it to 30, knowing that I'm on the path to destruction. But I'm always prepared for the day that might happen, I always have and always will treat each day as if the next day were my last.