I looked out of my window, thinking. I want a new life. I want to start over. These past fourteen years have been hell for me, especially the past three years. I don't even want to think of what's been going on. How do I take the pain away? I do what most people do. I cry until the pain goes away. Sometimes, I find gashes on my arms. It always scares me, knowing that someday, I might die the same way that he did. My mom can't help me. She's just as messed up as I am. My whole world went upside down when she said that she wanted to move

Sure, I wanted a change, but not this big. It's already hard for me to keep my friends, and it'll be even harder to make new ones. I sat on the couch, listening to my iPod. Only sad songs were the ones that I played. I knew nothing about pop music. Suddenly, mom came up to me.

"Andi, you need to go pack up your stuff." She said, and I quickly pulled down my sleeves, hoping that she wouldn't see the gashes on my arm. I don't even know why this happens to me.

"Mhmm." I groaned, ignoring every word that she said. I saw her turn around. Here we go again.

"ANDREA MARIE CARLTON, YOU BETTER GET YOUR BUTT OF OF THAT COUCH, OR YOU'LL GET IT!" Mom bellowed. I quickly stood up, glared at her, and ran. I can still hear her screaming for me to get back as I was heading towards the bathroom.

As I was digging through the drawers, searching for one thing that made me experience a different kind of pain, I was thinking. Should I really do this again? I shrugged the thought out of my head, and found the new, clean razor that my mom had bought a couple of days ago. I quickly closed my eyes, and let all my angry feelings out. My mom was a bitch. No one should ever leave a child with her. I don't even know why I should just run away.

A few minutes have passed, and I quickly got up and wrapped my arm around a towel. I sneaked into my room, hoping that when I lie down, all of this pressure will go away.

I woke up, and I looked at the clock. 3:00AM. Shit. I should be finished packing by now. I quickly got up, and looked at my arm. The memory of me cutting myself was a big blur. I can't remember why I was even doing it.

Let's see. I got the box that my mom had left in my room. I quickly put in the things that I needed to bring with me. I just threw in my camera, laptop, my iPod accessories, and a bunch of my clothes. I noticed something on my desk. It was dusty, like all the CDs that I haven't listened to in the past 3 years. I picked it up. Jonas Brothers. Gay. I don't even know why I bought this CD in the first place. I quickly threw it in the pile that was going to go to the garbage, and I went back to sleep.

I got up the next day to the screaming that my mother was making. I put on my black sweater over my shirt, put on my makeup and skinny jeans, and rushed out the door. My mom's eyes met mine as I got down the stairs.

"Andrea, if you ever do anything like what you did to me last night again," I cut her off.

"You'll do what, mom? Lock me up in my room? Hit me until I bleed to death? You don't understand, don't you? I'm not your little girl anymore. You can't make me do anything that you want all the time. I don't care if you're my mother, okay?" I spat out, and saw her face go red.

I continued on. "I'm trying to keep myself from getting angry at you. But you keep on pushing me. It's not helping me at all. Don't say that you're decent because you're not! You've got a problem, mom. Fight for your health. You're the only one I've got." She broke down as I said that. I'm sure that what I said won't be planted in her mind, though. It's like this one-time thing.

I went back up to my room and stayed in there until my mom stopped weeping. Of course, she came knocking on my door an hour later. I thought about just ignoring it, but I could hear her sniffling a little bit.

"Yeah?" I asked as I opened the door.

"Honey, I'm sorry for what I've been treating you." I heard her say. And she kept going on and on, but I still knew that all this was fake. After she was done speaking, she looked at me straight in the eye.

"Okay. Let's go mom, we have to move soon." I said through gritted teeth. She gave the tiniest smile I've ever seen, and walked back downstairs.


As we were loading things into our truck, I wondered. How the heck am I supposed to make new friends? I'm very self-conscious, and stubborn. Who would like a girl like me?

As we began our long ride from Seattle, WA to Los Angeles, CA, I ignored everything that I heard, or saw, except stare and listen to the songs on my iPod. Putting my headphones on full blast, nothing was bothering me, not even my mother.

I picked up my backpack, searching for some things that my mom might have snuck in there. I found a few shirts, which were shirts that I would never wear, and a few CDs, including the Jonas Brothers one. Didn't I just throw this away? I took off my headphones and talked to my mom.

"Why did you put this in my backpack?" I asked, showing her the CD.

"Well, I thought that you might still want it." Mom replied.

"Well, I don't. And please stop putting things in my bag without permission!" I argued, and put my headphones back on, thinking why my mom would even think that I would still want that CD.

As we got to our new home in LA, I looked at it. It was very different than our old home. It was newer, and bigger. The walls didn't look like someone tried to rip them apart. I moved all my stuff in my room and sat on my bed, thinking of what to do next.

"Andi, can you help me bring in some of the stuff?" I heard my mom say. I sighed, and went downstairs to give my mom a chance.

"Hi. Can you just take that one box out of the car? All the other stuff has been moved in." She directed me to our old blue Chevy pickup truck.

"Alright. But, how did you move all these things into the house so fast?" I asked. It hasn't even been that long since we arrived. Mom turned her head.

"Oh, these lovely boys helped me." Putting her hand out and calling three teenage boys. They had a very weird style. They had long, curly hair, except for one which had wavy hair. Gay.