A/N: So I'm in a dark mood and felt like writing this. The title came from the song 'Falling Inside The Black' by Skillet which I had playing on repeat while I wrote this. Let me know what you think of it, sorry if it doesn't make any sense, I'm not exactly thinking clearly.
For those of you reading my fic 'A Need To Strong' don't worry. You should have an update within the next three weeks. I got kicked out of home and this is the first thing I've felt like writing since. Plus it's hard to update anyway since I need to go do a library to do so. Anyway, A.N.T.S is not abandoned, merely waiting until I feel more myself, I promise you an update within three weeks or you can all kill me. :s
Enjoy.
Falling Inside The Black
Annabelle stood on the roof of St Trinian's with a bottle of vodka in hand, reflecting on her life. Since she had come to St. Trinian's she had found a family and a home but she had come to relies that none of it mattered. No one there really knew her. She'd never opened up to them and she would never be able to. Everyone in the school besides her aunt (who didn't really know the full truth anyway, only the official version of events) thought she had the perfect rich daddy's girl upbringing. They never bothered to look below the image she presented. Never bothered to find out what was beneath the mask she had on. Hell, none of them even realized she wore a mask. They couldn't see the hurt and fury and agony she was constantly in. And that was what made her relies…no one ever would. After everything that had happened, she was broken beyond repair. She was barely human anymore. She functioned the same as the others, but she wasn't the same. She was fractured, broken, incomplete. There were parts of her missing that she could never get back. She would ever be able to be happy. She would never be able to laugh or find joy in things or love. She especially would never be able to love. Not after everything that had happened.
Everyone thought the worst parts of her life happened at Cheltenham. They were wrong. Her father, drunk, abusive, hateful. He was her living nightmare. Nights spent screaming in agony as her took out his rage on her. His sick, twisted mind gaining pleasure from the hurt he inflicted on her that only got worse the older she got. No one ever wondered why she changed in the bathrooms. Why she never showed her back to anyone. Even when they saw that stupid video of her streaking on her first night after they stole her clothes no one noticed how she kept her back to the walls. Thankfully the video feed was extremely pixilated so they couldn't see her scars anyway. Couldn't see the word Freak carved into her stomach. Couldn't see the scars from the numerous lashings she had on her back, nor the scars on her shoulders from where blunt nails had dug in and dragged across pale flesh. They couldn't see how damaged she was.
She took a swig from the vodka bottle, balancing carefully on the ledge of the ancient buildings roof.
No one would miss her and she could escape the useless life she led. Her father wouldn't care. He might miss his punching bag and unwilling sexual outlet but that was about all. He got off on resistance. The more she screamed, the more she begged, the more she bled, the more turned on he was.
'Sick basted.' She thought with pure hate.
No, no one would miss her.
The school girls would easily forget her; she didn't even belong to any tribe. She didn't fit in to any of them. Kelly wouldn't care, being Head Girl she had bigger things to worry about than a useless new girl.
All it would take is a few millimeters forward, a slight over balance, and she would be free. She could join her long dead mother (killed at her sick father's hands of course) and maybe be happy and wanted in whatever came next. Though most likely she would go to some hell dimension since people liked hurting her so much surly the dead would enjoy the sport as well.
She would never be free. Never be wanted. Who could ever love a freak? A useless whore?
No, no one would ever want her. They would be better without her, just like her father had always said.
She finished her bottle of alcohol.
She was so tired. So worn out. She just wanted it to end, to all be over. She wanted the memories to stop. She wanted the flashbacks to end. She wanted to feel please for the first time in her life.
She wanted death.
She was slipping. Her mind finally cracking and she was falling through those cracks. She was falling into the black abyss of death. Just the smallest movement forward and she would be free.
What would they do with her body? Would they even notice she was missing? Would they find her body? They wouldn't care, she knew that. They might pretend to for a few days, a week tops, and then they would forget all about the useless freak who never fit in. They would forget her. At least she would die in the only place she had ever felt home. Where she had seen normality and people who feel things other than rage and hurt and blood lust.
It had been a true gift to see that. To see people who cared for one another, even if she could never have been one of them. She didn't have the ability to be. She couldn't feel those types of emotions.
She lifted her hand holding the now empty bottle and let it drop over the edge. She couldn't even hear the sound of the glass breaking she was so high up.
She smiled a dark, twisted, sadistic smile full of self-hatred.
Yes, it would be for the best. A freak like her shouldn't even exist.
She didn't even think about what she was doing. She was falling inside the black of her mind.
Her body fell forward and over the edge, free falling rapidly the long distance to the ground.
She felt the agony of every bone in her body shattering. She felt her own skull cave in. And she smiled, loving every second, loving the pain.
And she fell inside the black of death.