My Final Words

Summary: The real reason she acts so cold. Her final story.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did I'm sure there would be many many corrupted kids.
Warning: Mentions of rape, cutting, abuse, non-con incest (guess it'd be labeled that...), slight cussing, suicide, character death, angsty! If you want a story with fluff and bunny-like qualities then this isn't for you.
Word Count: 1040
A/N: I was really hesitant to post this story, why? I'm not sure. This story has been forming in my head for almost a year and a half. After thinking about it for this long I finally figured out the perfect way to write it. I've always thought there was more to her character than what meets the eye. So after going through plot idea after plot idea I finally came up with this conclusion on why she's such a brat. So with that said, I do hope you enjoy the fic.

This is my story. My final note to the world. I know everyone wonders why I act the way I do. I know everyone wonders why I'm so mean when I have one of the best lives. I have the money, looks, and popularity, so why am I so bitter? That's actually quite a simple answer. Oh quite simple indeed.

It's because of him. It's always because of him. His hands roaming my body. Always his hands. Sometimes his feet or some other body part which shouldn't have ever been used against me. God, I can still feel the pain, still smell the blood, still hear my cries, hear his laughter and moans. Flesh hitting flesh in a forbidden dance, in an abusive dance. The pain. I feel it still. It's so bad sometimes.

I can taste the blood. I can feel my teeth biting down on my lips to keep from crying out. It only made him hit me more or move faster in my body. The pain of being ripped apart from the inside haunts my dreams at night. His smirk that he gave when he was done, when he left me there on my bedroom floor, covered in blood and semen.

I can feel the burning water that I used to shower in when he was done with his nightly game. I can feel the raw skin that I obtained as I rubbed my skin, trying to get the dirt away. I can see the red water slowly moving down the drain, never fully leaving me. Always haunting, always there.

I feel the sickness as he looks at me the next day, like nothing happened the night before. He talks to Mother like it was just another night. She listens and pretends she doesn't know the pain he's putting me through. So caught up in work that she probably isn't even acting like she doesn't hear the screams.

I feel the longing when I look at my "friend's" families. I feel so jealous when I look at my cousins and their families. I wish I had something like them. I wish my family was like that. I try to hide the pain within by acting cold. I can't trust anyone. You learn never to trust. They'll only let you down. They don't care, no one cares. I'm just another rich kid with no problems. Money has a way of hiding the truth.

I can still feel the dread of having to go home at night. No one wants me at their house. I'm just the cold-hearted bitch that everyone pretends to like. I hear what they say behind my back. It's true what they say though. I really am worthless, the world would be better without me here. I'm nothing. I'm a waste of space. He tells me that every night.

Every night as he punches me in the ribs. Careful not to bruise my face or any other part that is noticeable. He can't afford to let this little game get out. He tells me he hates me. He tells me I ruined his life. He tells me how much he wish I were dead.

Then he starts to rip my clothes off. He continues his verbal abuse as he pumps in and out of me. Hard and fast is how he likes it. He likes when I cry out in pain, it makes him go faster. I've learnt to take the pain. Begging only makes him do it more. Tears have stopped falling long ago. This has happened too many times.

I feel so sick when he's done. When he leaves me. He hopes I die at night and a part of me does every night. Sometimes, he'd drag a blade across my stomach. I loved the pain it brought. I felt alive after it was done. He'd leave the blade with me. He knew I would use it again. I never cut my wrists. No, instead I'd trace the old scars he caused.

After awhile you forget what it's like to be loved truely. I just wanted to die. So I cut a little deeper each time. I loved the feel of the blood that ran so warm. I loved the sight of a small drawn line leaking out a red stream of paint. It was so artistic, so beautiful.

So many nights I dreamed of releasing myself of this pain. So many nights I dreamed of just letting go and being free. So many nights. I don't have the strength to let go though. People will think I did it for pity. People wouldn't understand why I decided to end this pathetic thing they call life. I've held on long enough though.

The world is crumbling beneath my feet and I don't think I can hold on any longer. The warmth and safety the light is offering is more tempting then the cold and insecurity the cold brings to me. I'm slipping away more and more every day and no one notices. I'm losing all hope in being saved from this life. There's only one way out. Death is my last resort, my final option.

That is my story. My reason for doing this. I don't know what the world will think after they read this. An insane ramble by an insane teenager? Most likely. I feel better now you all know why I am the way I am. I hope no one suffers this way and if you do... don't be scared to ask for some form of help. Don't be too proud like I was. I'd ask for help right now, if I didn't think it was too late to save me. No one can save me now.

Father, you ruined my life, but for some odd reason I still love you. I still wish you loved me too. I wish for your approval. I hope you get locked away so you can never hurt anyone again.

Everyone else, I hope you understand my reasons for doing this. Don't think I wanted the pity, I just needed to finally break free. Goodbye.

This is my last letter to the world. This is my story. My final words.

Angelica C. Pickles

A/N: Okay, I wasn't completely sure what her middle name started with so yeah... If that is wrong please correct me. I really do hope you enjoyed this fic. Reviews are welcomed. Flames aren't wanted. Constructive Crit. is accepted and appreciated. So tell me what you think!

Haha I love bold, italics, and underlines... I probably misused all of them, but oh well. I think it makes the story look pretty.

CrazyLake42