Prologue:

Harley's POV:

I smile peacefully in my beloved slumber, the dreams that take over my mind are better than the reality I live in. It's bitter sweet though, dreaming of my family is one of my favourite past times, but it is hard opening my eyes and realising all over again that they are no longer here. I won't see their beautiful happy faces, or hear the contagious laugh of my little brother, or get to hear the angelic sound of my mother singing as she cooked us all breakfast every morning. I can no longer feel the warmth or security of my father's strong arms as he hugged me goodbye every single morning before work, I even miss the few childhood friends I left behind. I still enjoy the dreams, I just dread waking up to my reality, so badly wishing I could live in the moments I treasured the most.

My eyes flitter open painfully, startled by the loud banging coming from the other side of the timber bedroom door, rudely yanking me from the dream stemming from one of my favourite childhood memories. You would think by now I would be use to the rude awakening since this is our usual routine throughout the week. A single carer bearing the burden of waking the sleeping children and teenagers residing within the crowded care home, a place all unwanted children seem to end up within. I am no exception.

"HARLEY! GET THE FUCK UP!" Caleb screams, standing on the other side of my locked bedroom door, clearly already pissed off before the morning has really started.

"I'M UP!" I scream back, rolling my eyes as I hear footsteps lead away from the timber door of my crumbling bedroom.

I groan lazily, staring at the ceiling above me and counting out the cracks that line the yellowed roof. The once white ceiling a yellowed colour due to the last foster kid smoking within the small dirt filled room, staining the white Walls and ceiling an awful looking yellow. I sigh, dragging my sleep filled and sore body out from under the warmth of the daggy old quilt thrown over the stained mattress. I stand to my feet, the floor boards squeaking loudly under the pressure of my weight. I yawn, stretching out my stiff limps, receiving the movement back in my otherwise numb limbs.

I snatch my tatty old towel off the hook on the back of my solid timber door, allowing my bare feet to pad against the old creaking floor boards. I take a deep breath, wrapping my fingers around the door handle and unlocking the door to allow me to exit my own bedroom. I yank the door open viciously, jolting my shoulder as it sticks momentarily on a bowed floor board. I close the door behind myself, stepping out into the bustling hallway and making my way into the bathroom a few doors down.

I slip inside the surprisingly empty bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it behind myself. I run my tongue over my chapped lips, I move over to where a loose tile beside the bathroom counter hides one of my biggest secrets. I drop down to my knees, extending out my trembling hand to allow my nimble fingers to lift up the loose tile, revealing the razor blade that had laid hidden. The silver metal shining under the glare of the bathroom light bulb, a sight that draws me in easily as my fingers fumble to pick up the sharp object.

I strip my sweat filled clothing from my body, throwing the clothes into the already full hamper. The exposed skin of my naked body trembles, goosebumps settling over my naturally tan skin, shivering under the cool breeze brought by the brick building. I slide down the side of the bathtub, pressing my back into the cold tiles painfully as I spin the sharp metal blade between my fingers. I fall into a trance like state, my gaze firmly held on the sharp object causing my heart to beat wildly inside my chest, slamming against my rib cage painfully.

I inhale a sharp mouthful of oxygen, slashing away at the tender and scarred skin of my inner forearm, ripping the skin apart, watching droplets of blood form after every single cut I make. Tears brim my eyes, blurring my vision as they fall freely down my cheeks, a low whimper tumbling from my trembling lips. I carefully place the blood stained metal blade back into its hiding spot, placing the removable tile back over the object that caused the damage to the tender skin. My secret once again hidden, the object forgotten as I stand on my unsteady legs. I climb into the shower, watching the blood trickle down my arm as I use my other hand to reach forward, turning on the taps. A stream of boiling hot water cascades down over my trembling body, washing away the blood from my mutilated limb like it never existed.

I sigh contently as my body adjusts to the temperature of the water beating down over me, calming my racing heart. I move to wash out my dyed lock of blonde hair, smiling proudly at the dip dyed electric blue ends that stop just below my boobs. The heated streams of water calm my tightened muscles, loosening the stress filled knots in my shoulders painlessly. I run the bar of soap over my dripping wet body, scrubbing away the dirt that coats my naturally tanned body from the previous day, wincing as I press against a patch of bruise skin.

I sigh dramatically, ceasing the heat stream of water from cascading down over my body perfectly, missing the warmth the liquid brought. I step out the shower and onto the slippery tiles, nearly losing my balance multiple times as I reach for my tatty old towel. I carefully wipe the droplets of water from my body, avoiding the sensitive skin that is either covered in blackish blue bruises or violent looking self inflicted wounds covering my body. I run the already soaked towel over my dripping locks of hair, attempting to try to dry it to the best of my ability, giving up when goosebumps rise over my exposed body.

I wrap the stained tatty old towel tightly around my body, taking a deep breath and unlocking the bathroom door. I violently throw the timber door open, bolting down the hallway, avoiding the children who line the hallway as chatter sits in the air. I shove open my bedroom door, slamming it shut behind myself, locking it before anyone could come bursting into my safe haven without warning. I scurry across the room to my wardrobe, it's an old double door solid oak one but it's missing both the doors, no surprise really. I throw on matching bra and underwear set, wrapping the towel around my still wet locks of hair, searching through my limited amount of clothing for an outfit to wear.

I slip on my favourite pair of skinny jeans, even though they are majorly faded. I pull on a band tee, throwing on a baggy black hoodie and sliding on an odd pair of socks, protecting my feet from the cold chill seeping through the creaky old floor boards. I search my room, attempting to find the only pair of shoes I own, silently cursing myself out at misplacing the most important item of clothing. I locate my shoes under a pile of dirty clothes, yanking on the slightly too small faded Converses onto my sock covered feet, wincing in pain as my toes cramp instantly.

I stuck in a few deep breaths, ignoring the pain shooting up my legs, indicting my feet utter distress. I grab my blow dryer and hair straightener off the floor beside my bed, making my way down the now empty hallway to the bathroom. I plug in both items, running a brush through my hair and painfully yanking the knots from my long locks of hair. I move on to blow drying it and straightening it immediately, dealing with my own hair that proves to hate me most morning to my own distaste.

Once my hair sits perfectly, I move to apply the heavy lays of make up to my face, using a thick layer of eye liner to bring out the richness to my chocolate brown orbs. I look myself over in the mirror multiple times, adjusting either my hair or make up until I consider it perfect. I exit the bathroom, walking back to my bedroom to finish getting ready.

I snatch my crappy knock off iPhone from under my pillow, shoving it into the front pocket of my quickly deteriorating backpack, carefully reaching for my MP3 player that holds the songs to help keep me somewhat sane, shoving the precious item into the pocket of my hoodie. The MP3 player being a beloved gift from a close friend, he gave it me a week before he was sentenced to a juvenile detention facility to my dismay.

I shake my head, clearing my haze filled mind of the memories that blur my vision. I pull on the nearly broken backpack, picking up my skateboard from where it was last discarded beside my door frame. My rich chocolate brown orbs scan my pathetic excuse for a bedroom, searching for anything valuable I might have forgotten, coming up empty and proceeding to leave the safety of my bedroom. I close the door behind myself, sucking in a deep breath and heading downstairs through the snide comments of the multiple other teenagers who call this care home their home too.

Rachel is probably the worst, she will do anything to abuse me both emotionally and physically. But if that isn't enough, she uses her little clicks group of stupid girls to attack me, instructing them to hold me down whilst she beats the shit out of me, or encourages them to throw around degrading remarks. It doesn't change, it's always the same stuck up bitch who thinks she is better than me, even though she is one of the thousands of children rotting away in this stupid welfare system.

This morning is no different to every other lousy one, Rachel waits for me as I descend the stairs, moving to attempt to trip me without prevailing, thank god! She hisses, annoyed at her failed attempt to cause me harm and probably the proud smirk sitting perfectly on my lipstick covered lips. Her hatred toward me wins, she moves to use her words to harm my already dangerously abused emotions.

"Oh, look here. The fat whore has arrived," she chuckles, smirking proudly. "Are you gonna go pig out, fat slut?"

I suck in a sharp breath, tears brimming in my make up framed eyes painfully. I bite down on my bottom lip viciously, attempting to stop the tears that threaten to spill at any given moment, trying to suppress the unbearable emotional pain that causes through my veins. I turn on my heels, bolting out the front door as their laughter burns deeply into my brain, threatening to drive me insane. I shake my head viciously in an attempt to clear the raging thoughts inside my already fucked up head, refusing to let her words to get to me, knowing they already have but avoiding admitting the truth for my own sanity.

My feet pad against the pavement, propelling me forward down the street, blocks away from the place I have no choice in calling my home. I have no idea where I'm going, I don't really care as long as it's far away from that fucked up place. I need to clear my mind, erasing my worries just for awhile and allowing my reality to fall away. I can't keep doing this, it's too fucking hard and I don't want to live like this, but it's all I know now.

I look up, pulling myself from the trance like state of being trapped in my own mind, finding myself staring at the skate park a few blocks away. It has become one of my favourite places, an escape but not only that, a place where I can freely drink alcohol with a few of the older guys that spend their days here. They don't know my past, nor do they know my present, something I have craved since I lost everything. It's a safe haven.

I throw down my skateboard, stepping onto the wooden board and propelling myself forward. I join a few of the guys sitting around the concrete park, throwing my backpack down in the growing pile, moving to guide the board over the obstacles. I enjoy the breeze the whips at my face, blowing my hair backwards due to the pressure, making me feel alive.

Time flies by without any realisation, three hours having past by without my knowledge, a genuine smile etched into my chapped lipstick covered lips. I sit close legged in a circle with multiple guys, all of them older than myself. We pass around a bottle of vodka, each of us taking a swig of the burning liquor, coughing as it slips painfully down our throats. I pass the half empty glass bottle on, the warmth pulsing through my veins, my mind in an alcohol fuelled haze. A smirk slipped onto my lips, my body and mind buzzing amazingly, I feel amazing!

The wicked buzz is short lived, rudely destroyed by the presences of the last person I want to see. A woman in her late twenties with wavy golden locks of blonde hair, ocean blue orbs and a curve filled body moves across the parking lot. I would know her anywhere, she is one of the few care workers at the home who actually cares about the unwanted children lost in the system, she cares about us. She unfortunately is one sent out to find me, the school having let carers within the run down care home know of my absence. I feel bad for her, knowing she spends hours looking for me just to deliver to me school despite my protest.

"HARLEY DEVONNE SOPHIA RAIDEN! GET IN THE CAR, NOW!" She yells frustrated, drawing not only my attention but everyone else's too.

"B-But I don't wanna," I whine, refusing to budge from my current position.

"I don't care!" She says through gritted teeth, moving to yell. "I SWEAR TO GOD IF I DON'T HAVE YOU BACK AT THE HOUSE IN 15 MINUTES, KAYLA WILL MAKE SURE YOU REGRET DITCHING!"

I groan defeated, I unsteadily stand to my feet, knowing how deadly serious she is about the implied punishment. I yank my backpack viciously from the pile, throwing it over my shoulder and picking up my skateboard, chucking it under my armpit to hold the wooden form of transport. I mutter 'goodbye' to the staring males, climbing down to join the impatiently waiting woman I fondly call Ellie. I drag my feet dramatically, rolling my eyes and trailing behind the older woman leading us to where her car sits in the parking lot.

I climb into the passenger seat, buckling up my seat belt, crossing my arms across my torso and huffing dramatically. She rolls her eyes, starting up the fancy government funded vehicle, reversing out the parking space in the fairly empty parking lot. She presses her foot heavily against the gas peddle, the vehicle bolting forward, speeding down the back streets breaking the speed limit easily. I reach forward, turning on the radio to take in the angelic sound of Titanium by David Guetta, causing a face eating grin to take over my facial features.

I hum along, refusing to allow my voice to combine with the music. After the heartbreaking car crash that claimed the life of my parents and baby brother Oliver, I made a promise that I would never sing again, throwing away my dream of following my musical ability. It is a promise I made because of the unbearable pain in that moment, it was something that reminded me constantly of what I had lost.

I shake my head, clearing the haze filling my mind as we pull into the driveway of the care home I begrudging call my home. The last line of Titanium rips through the silence, the hair on the back of my neck standing up. I grab my degrading backpack from where I had dumped it on the passenger side floor, slipping the straps up to my shoulders and climbing out the surprisingly fancy government funded vehicle. I slam the door shut begrudgingly, dramatically crossing my arms protectively over my torso, allowing the older ocean orbed woman to grip my shoulders securely, dragging my feet anxiously as she guides me inside the crumbling building I unfortunately have no choice in calling my home legally. My mind is hazy, my breathing rapid, my heart racing, slamming against my rib cages in anticipation of the punishment yet to be delivered to me, knowing it could be physical blows to my body like multiple times before.

I come face to face with a clearly pissed off woman I know very well, her charcoal orbs raging with anger and frustration, her slit end filled locks of Raven hair pulled back into a neat pony tail. I watch her fists ball at her sides, knowing quite well the impact produced by those fists. Ellie shrinks back, trying to make herself as small as possible under the rage filled gaze of her supervisor.

"WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN HARLEY!" Kayla screams, stepping closer to my already trembling form, intimidating me easily.

I shrug, knowing she doesn't care for my expected answer, she never has before. A balled fist with a great force behind it connects with my already tender abdomen, knocking the oxygen out of my lungs easily causing me to cough loudly. I grab at my stomach, refusing to fall to the floor, allowing myself to become vulnerable. Her rage filled charcoal orbs move their gaze from my pain filled body to the ocean orbed worker.

"Ellie?" She snaps, gritting her teeth.

I push away the tears brimming my make up framed rich chocolate orbs, my gaze moving to take in the situation unfolding before my eyes. I watch the normally bubbly woman in her late twenties look like a deer caught in head lights, shrinking back into herself, gripping my shoulders a little tighter in fear. I wouldn't put it past Kayla to deliver a strong fist to the terrified worker.

"Y-Yeah?" She stutters, refusing to make eye contact with the charcoal orbs of rage filled supervisor.

"I will ask you only once, where was she?" Kayla questions, implying a genuine threat through gritted teeth, clenching her fists at her sides, impatiently waiting for the answer to her question.

Ellie swallows the lump in her throat, moving her gaze to stare at her shoe covered feet, "The, uh, sk-skate park.."

I sigh terrified, leaning backwards into the firm grip on my shoulders, awaiting another painful blow to my already battered and bruised body. I exhale thankfully when the expected blow never comes, my heart still slamming against my rib cage, my breathing rapid under the pressure of my racing pulse. Ellie guides me back out the crumbling building of the pathetic excuse of care home, helping me into the passenger seat due to the pain radiating out of my abdomen, buckling me in before rounding the front of her fancy government funded vehicle. She slides into the drivers seat, starting up the shiny black government funded vehicle with its tinted windows, reversing out the driveway and taking off down the street with her foot pressed firmly against the gas peddle.

It only takes ten minutes to arrive in the parking lot of the over run public high school, a large building bumbling with students of all ages filed with raging hormones, I fondly call this place my own personal hell. All the unwanted foster children belonging to the system shoved into this dump of a government high school, meaning Rachel one of my beloved tormentors also attends this pathetic place. I sigh, yanking my backpack off the floor violently and retrieving my skateboard from the back seat, climbing out tinted vehicle. I slam the door shut dramatically, sliding the straps up to my shoulders and crossing my arms securely around my pain filled torso.

"I'm walking you to the office to make sure you actually attend," Ellie says sternly, gripping my shoulders and guiding me towards the front double doors of the hell hole.

I roll my eyes, dragging my feet against the cement covering the parking lot, nearly losing my balance multiple times. I trip up the stairs, silently thanking the ocean orbed woman for stopping my bruised body from colliding with the ground. We make it inside, my feet padding against the slippery surface of the hallway floors, moving slowly towards the office a few feet away. We arrive to find the unsurprised receptionist behind the desk, her eyes only gazing up to take in my presences for a moment, rolling her eyes and handing the sign in clip board to the golden locked, ocean orbed care worker. Ellie writes my information down, signing me in with some dumb excuse for my absence throughout the morning classes.

I roll my eyes, shaking my head and making my way down the empty hallways, shoving my earphones in and blasting the angelic sound of 'Fallen Angels' by Black Veil Brides. A few people ditching their classes linger in the otherwise empty corridors, throwing snide comments as I pass but my focus is on the perfect voice of Andy Biersack and his glorious band. I keep walking despite the pain radiating from my probably already bruised abdomen, hanging my head to avoid making eye contact with anyone I pass.

I turn the corner, walking along the hallway that are lined with lockers against the walls. I stop at my own locker, unlocking the metal storage place with a groan tumbling from my slightly parted lips. I feel a pressure on my shoulder, violently throwing me backwards into a wall of lockers, my earphones being yanked from my ears painfully as I fall to the ground with a string of swear words slipping past my lips unintentionally.

I grit my teeth, scrambling to shove my prized MP3 player into the pocket of my skinny jeans that bring some safety to the device. I groan at the pain radiating around my body, all my limbs aching painfully and my ass now numb. I move my gaze up to the person who's body is towering over my battered and bruised one, meeting the wicked gaze of my constant tormentor who smirks proudly down at me. She stands towering over me easily, her fist clenching at her sides as Taylor, Jade and Misty crowd around behind her, all of them laughing at the torment being inflicted upon me.

"You are just a fat slut who should just kill herself already!" She screams in my face, her words cutting into my heart like knives, her feet connecting viciously with my clothing cover body harshly.

Rachel urges her pathetically cowardice friends to join the assault, their feet violently connecting with my already battered and bruised body. I grit my teeth, pathetically whimpering under the utter brutal force of their sickening blows to my body, using my arms to shield my head at all costs. There is no escape from the brutal force, my pleads for their actions to cease going unanswered, ignored by the pleasure the four teenage girls get from beating me senseless.

"Oi!" A voice yells, echoing throughout the emptied hallways.

The constant pain filled blows ceases, the sound of multiple pairs of feet padding against the slippery hallway floor, fleeing from the scene of their crime. I sigh in relief, thanking god for saving me from the overwhelming torment, praising the teacher who came to my rescue. I remove my arms from their protective spot around my face, sucking in a sharp shallow breath and rolling onto my back in severe agony. I grit my teeth, urging my body to get the fuck up and stand on my own two unsteady feet. My body refuses to budge, leaving me bloodied on the slippery surface of the pathetic excuse of a high school, silently asking god what I did to deserve this.

I pry my eyes open, meeting the worried gaze of caring emerald orbs of a woman in her mid twenties. I know the caring woman, she's one of the art teachers, she started at the beginning of the school year. Miss Thomas just happens to be my third period art teacher, she rules her classes with a stern warning given and a consequence if any of her student step out of line. No of the teenagers here mess with her, they know better. Despite my rebellious nature and troublesome ways, she took an instant liking to me without a single hesitation. It is kind of refreshing in many ways, to have someone who has faith in your abilities and cares about your overall wellbeing in this crappy world.

The emerald orbed teacher extends her hand down towards me, gesturing for me to take the extended limb to allow her to hoist me to my unsteady feet. I stare at her extended hand, pleading with my aching arms to reach for her polite gesture. I watch her gaze scan over my probably bruised face and busted lip, a grimacing look appearing in her emerald orbs, silently telling me I look pretty beaten up. I reach for her with my trembling hands, her grip tightening around my bloodied hands and pulling me to my unsteady feet. My legs threaten to buckle under the weight of my body, my knees wobbling as my head spins in a dizzy spell.

"What happened, Harley?" She questions, concern riddling her facial features, worry flooding her intriguing emerald orbs.

"Nothing. It was just a misunderstanding," I lie effortlessly, avoiding the worried gaze of my favourite teacher in this hell hole of a government funded high school.

"Fine, but I will walk you to class. You don't deserve to get in anymore trouble today," she says softly, gripping my upper arm and leading me down the hallway towards my English class at the end of the corridor.

We walk in an awkward silence, Miss Thomas helping support my weight, allowing me to hobble down the hallway towards to dreaded English classroom. I use the sleeve of my hoodie to wipe the blood from my face, suppressing the pain filled whimpers that threaten to fall from my lips. I grip the door handle, shrugging off her grip and pushing open the flimsy classroom door. I step inside the crowded classroom, every students gaze fixating on me and snide comments being whispered between the hormonal teenagers. Mr Hobbs hushes the class, instruct them to go on with the given assignment and turning his attention to my late arrival to displeasure.

"It's nice of you to finally join us, Miss Raiden," Mr Hobbs remarks displeased, staring at me over the frames of his old styled glasses.

"I'm sorry Mr Hobbs, I needed to steal Miss Raiden away for a chat. It would happen again," Miss Thomas explains, showing off her award winning smile and pearly whites.

"That's okay, Miss Thomas. Thank you for ensuring Miss Raiden made it safely to my class," he acknowledged, smiling softly at the younger woman in her mid twenties.

She smiles back widely, bidding the older man in his late fifties goodbye and closing the flimsy classroom door as she exits. The older man turns his attention back towards me displeased, instructing me to take my seat at the back of the already crowded classroom seating arrangement. I roll my eyes, mumbling a smartass remark under my breath, dragging my aching body to an empty seat in the back right hand corner. I dump my withering backpack on the floor beside my desk, sliding into the seat positioned perfectly behind the rickety old wooden desk. I slip my MP3 player from the pocket of my jeans, shoving my earphones into my ears as 'Roger Rabbit' by Sleeping With Sirens plays perfectly, Kellin Quinn's glorious voice drawing me, allowing my mind to wonder as I fall into a trance like state, blocking out the whole world.

I slip out my sketch pad from the safety of my backpack, opening it to a blank page and guiding the led pencil held firmly in my grip over the clear surface. I lose myself, creating a drawing from a pleasure filled memory from my childhood, remembering the moments I miss the most that blur my vision. I don't notice the students filing out the classroom, the normal chatter filled room blocked out by the angelic sound of 'The Last Night' by Skillet, my gaze focused purely on the drawing scribbled across the page effortlessly.

I move my gaze upwards, capturing a glimpse of the quickly emptying classroom to my dismay. I rip my earphones out, shoving the MP3 player into the pocket of my hoodie, slipping my sketch pad back into the safety of my tatty old backpack. I stand to my unsteady feet, yanking my bag off the floor and slipping it onto my shoulders, exiting the now vacant classroom. My feet pad against the slippery surface of the hallway floors, disappearing into the crowd of hormonal teenagers trying to escape this hell hole they fondly call high school.

I make it outside the slowly crumbling building, stumbling down the front steps of the ageing shit hole of a government funded high school. I slip my skateboard out of my backpack, throwing it to the ground with a small thud, stepping onto the anti slip covered surface of the wooden board, propelling myself forward down the bump filled pavement. I avoid the people that line the footpath, speeding down the street heading towards the place I unfortunately call my home, not temping the known consequences for failing to arrive home from school.

It takes ten minutes at arrive at the ancient building of the government funded care home, I pick up my skateboard and heading towards the open front door of the pathetic excused of a home environment. I drag my feet passing the thresh hold, the floor boards creaking under the pressure of my weight, everyone's gaze finding me and snide remarks floating around in the chatter filled foyer. My presents doesn't go unnoticed by the care workers or my constant tormentors, the same one leader knocks me to ground and laughing at my misfortune she created, delivering a swift kick to my already battered and bruised ribs. Kayla stands there smirking, watching the physical abuse unfold, never intervening or stop the uncalled for attack on me, she finds join in the pain inflicted upon others. I plead for help, begging my biggest bully to stop the assault on my already beaten body, silently praying to God to save me or kill me.

My name is Harley Devonne Sophia Raiden, I am one of the many children lost in the foster system, unwanted responsibility no one wants. I am treated badly but multiple people, my abuse going unreported on a daily basis as I can't help but consider taking my own life.

I'm Harley and this is the story of my life.