Alone.

I guess you could say that. I never made friends in school, my parents always wanted more from me, but I loved art. And I was good at it. My older brother was the perfect child. All A's, played all sports and was even the presidents of school council.

My dad loved him, cradled him, cared for him. I was nothing, the outsider, the zero, the stupid, the whatever, all the things I was called mixed so many years ago. I was beaten when I didn't do good, my mom smiled, my brother laughed and my father just kept beating.

The session never stopped till I pass out and even still sometimes they would still continue. I would wake up in what ever room I had fallen in, crawl to my bedroom and do a face plant on my bed. The tears would fall but no more than an hour.

At school it was the same, brother was head of the football team, so they never forgot to beat the crap out of me. Teachers turned a blind eye to me, and the other kids stayed away from me, fear of getting beat up too, I guess. By the time I made it to high school, most people either hurt me or stayed clear way from me. I was skin and bones do to my mothers starvation, I think she thought that one day I would just disappear, and rid the family of my presents.

I was normal looking, if I was of normal weight, but im not, so I look twice as ugly. I try to cover the bruises but there just to many. My bones ach so bad when I finally crawl in to bed at night, It hurts to move in the morning, but I must. I want people to like me, like my art, and so I try to be like my brother. I really do, but no matter where I go, people just tear me down, break me, hurt me. So I searched, for a place to belong, a place where I don't have to flinch every time someone moves, a place to practices art, the one thing that lets me be me.

Crazy legs. A place that changed me and my life. A place that took in people who couldn't afford art school, and taught them, a place that didn't ask questions.

"hey Jet, how's it hanging?"

I take a quick peak my drawing of the fallen angle, to see Andrew, or Anna, as most people call her, sitting on a bar stool in her gothic cloths.

" Not bad, old man got a little rough, but nothing more than the normal."

" oh really?" She questioned

" Yes, really"

"Then why are you wearing an oversized sweatshirt, that hangs off you like a towel, and" I yelp when her hand taps my rib cage. " why are you lying to me, but most of all, why are your ribs broken?"

' crap' she got me there, last night, my farther found my paintings. Which, in my defense, where well hidden, but I guess not well enough. I remember being woken up by my brother who grabbed onto my hair and dragged my down 2 flights of marble stairs till he flung me at my father's feet. My farther then broke my painting in half and beat me with the frames of the pictures. When one piece of wood was used to the max, he would than pick up the next till at the wood was gone. He manly wanted to hear my bones break, and when my ribs finally did break, he beat them some more just to hear me scream.

" They might, but my farther has a wanted sign for me in the hospitals, so Im not going there" I answer quietly

"what do you mean?"

" My farther knows people in each hospital, so if I show up there, when I come home, I get beaten for getting fix, or pain meds."

"Jeez and I thought my home life was screwed, but compared to your, mines like god- damn heaven" she laughs.

"Man, Anna, hell would be better than my home life, would you pass the blue?"

I quickly grab the paint from her hand, only to have find it in a vice grip.

" you need a day out, so finish up your gothic angle, and meet me at my car" she called over her shoulder as she walked away. Shacking my head I quickly finish her demands and rush to her car. Not knowing that this trip would change my life forever.

I need a beta! anyone want to help? please!