I only have one request before you read this, read the author's note below, it will explain everything.

Dearest reader,

What you are about to read isn't some made up story. There is no happily ever after coming, at least not for me.

If you're reading this, you should know that I'm not really sure why exactly I'm writing this all down. Maybe it's just so I can get it out, maybe it's so I don't forget. Whatever the reason, you should know that this won't be a happy story.

I always wanted to write a book, and I've always liked writing about myself, narcissistic right?

When I was younger, I always imagined where I would be, in high school. I would be happy, on my way towards becoming whatever the dream of the moment was. I never once thought I would be where I am now. You know, when you're little, you can't even imagine the horrors people will force you to face.

Thinking back, I don't think I had much fear of anything. I was numb, both inside and out. If those girls could have felt even an ounce of what I was feeling, they would have never done any of it. They would have stopped.

I can remember the tears, how they would sting at my eyes as I fought to hold them back. I don't think I even remembered what happiness was. If you saw me though, I could have fooled you. I was the same happy bubbly Delly on the outside, but the inside was a different story. It was like a war was waging on the inside, and the only defense I had against myself was the fake smile that forever graced my face.

I'm not sure why I kept going, most people say it's because I was strong, but I wasn't. I was weak, barely able to keep myself propped up. There were times that I just wanted to give up and die, but I kept that stupid smile on. I tricked so many people that way.

When you're told you're worthless for so long, you start to get it. You understand that everyone hates you. You understand that you should hate yourself. You understand why no one likes you, and you understand that you shouldn't like yourself.

I was a skeleton of the bubbly girl I used to be. I was alive enough to loathe my being, but dead enough to ignore the pain.

The cuts and bruises, I could barely feel them. For a flash of a second, when the pain was searing through the newest place, I felt something. And then, as quickly as it came, it was gone. It was in those moments of pain that I found what I thought was peace.

Those moments of pain were always short-lived though. My weak will power couldn't keep away the monster that was growing inside of me. It was like the pain was soothing me and for some reason, I was enjoying it. Happy, silly, sweet Delly, enjoying pain? It was almost too sad to accept. I was an addict to the way the pain made me feel, it made me feel alive again.

Like any other addict, the addiction got deeper, and I was able to let the pain last longer. I was drawn to my new power, but ashamed of it too, maybe that's why I hid underneath the baddy sweatshirts and bracelets. I just kept getting knocked back down, how else was I supposed to handle the constant embarrassment? I forced myself into a life of solitude.

The things my so called friends said, they didn't matter anymore. I hated myself, you would think that they would have stopped trying to hurt me then. What more could I do? Did they really want me to end it that bad? I had no friends, the ones that called me my friends were nowhere near what a true friend should have been. Hell, the definition of friend was very warped.

My life was on a set track, wake up, hate myself, survive school, hate myself some more, and go back to bed. There was no love, there was no feeling, and there sure as hell was no happiness. I guess these are just the confessions of a victim.

If you're reading this, you should know, I won't hold anything back, and by the time you're done, you won't want to either.

Sincerely yours,

The Victim

Sighing, I put the pen down, how much longer am I going to do this to myself? Oh right, until I can't feel the pain anymore.

My phone buzzes against the desk, Thom probably wants to pick me up for the game tonight. I let the call go to voicemail. This is my time, my private time.

When I decided to write everything down, I never imagined it would be this hard. Rubbing my eyes, I pick the pen back up, looking down at the notebook I've saved for so long.

Part One I pick the pen back up, chewing on the end as I think.

Beginning Hell.

The pen drops back on my desk and I stand with authority, somehow empowered by the feeling I'm getting from the writing. Finally something else is taking over the addiction.

Grabbing a sharpie off my desk I shut the notebook, quickly scrawling Confessions of a Victim across the front in big letters. Then, I shove it under my bed, filled with the new purpose writing has given me.

This is my final story. There will be nothing after the final chapter is posted. This story is different than anything you will read from me. This is MY personal story, and I really hope you enjoy it. At this point, I don't care what kind of a response this gets. If you're looking for a cheesy love story, you're in the wrong place. If you want one, I have plenty of suggestions though!

I want to thank you in advance for all the support you have always given me, it has really meant the world in so many different ways. You all are the best people I have ever encountered. My PM doors are always open, and I would love to chat with any and all of you.

This story does go hand in hand with Fixed, so you could read them at the same time, the last chapter of fixed that is written at the moment is where this story has begun!

Love to All,

DedicatedWallflower

PS, have I mentioned you all are wonderful? Also, update will not be until the last chapter of Fixed! I just wanted to get this out there!